#he's meant to brutally crush the dreams of others to get to the top and his reaction is WOW THIS FEELS AMAZING

[uniformbravo]

blue lock is so funny. what if soccer was fucked up and Mean

[hannieween]

pillow talk | city lights series | h.js

Deep down, you knew you were growing an attachment to... whatever this was. Joshua was not intoxicating, you were wrong about that, he was addictive.

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: angst, smut (18+) ✮ aus: rock singer joshua, neighbours with benefits ✮ word count: 11.7k

→ part i – part ii – other fics

₊🎧: closer to you - jung kook ♡︎ | bad sad and mad - bibi | not sorry - i.m ♡︎

₊ nsfw warnings under the cut

✮ warnings: smut with plot, low-key instant love, slight corruption kink, foul language, dirty talk, dom Joshua, sub reader, big dick Joshua, a bit of praise/degradation kink, oral sex (f), a bit of grinding, pussy stretching, brat taming: spanking and bondage (f. receiver), protected sex, doggy, dumbification, multiple orgasms (f, m) pet names: bunny, baby, pretty, sweetheart, princess (hers)

part iii

It was about one in the morning when your brain decided it had its fill from your bed and it was time to get to work. You let out a frustrated groan and threw your bedcovers away, stretching your arms as you made your way to the bathroom to wash your face.

The last two weeks have been a nightmare, in both the literal and figurative way. Not sleeping for a few nights straight does more damage to your body each time you go on a streak like this. It affects appetite, causes mood swings and those two symptoms together make your life living a nightmare.

But in fact you were in the final stages of finishing your manuscript. So not sleeping meant you had more time to work on it and, perfectionist that you are, you devoted every waking hour to finishing it.

That is to say, you haven't seen Joshua for the past fourteen days. 

The last time you had seen him, you realized the feelings that were beginning to grow in you were not just lust and desire. You felt a certain kind of affection, endearment to him that was dangerous given the nature of your relationship with him.

So, you did what you knew best: bury yourself in writing and reading. And to really sink yourself in work, you'd either go to a library or a café to write.

Sometimes you gave yourself breaks, you went to the gym, to the market, went out with Yena, it was all good. It kept your mind off the thought of your neighbor turned fuckbuddy turned crush.

Is he a crush? Who knows. The waters are muddy after sleeping with him. Was he still a crush if you felt something unspeakable for him?

Who knows.

Though you haven't had any interactions with him, your brain couldn't stop reminding you of him. Even your social media appeared to be knowing that you had something to do with his band, since your feed was plagued with Midnight Haze photos.

One day you decided to venture a little into his personal page. His page was kept up to date with posts that were mostly of him on stage. The shots ranged from him playing guitar, his eyes set on the chords, brow furrowed in concentration, tongue in between his lips.

The most recent photos were of him in a professional recording studio. Apparently Midnight Haze was recording something. So at least, he was busy as well.

It didn't come as a surprise to you when you had dreams of him—or nightmares, you called them.

Brutal, cruel nightmares of him in which he'd be with you: he'd called you his, whispered sweet nothings in your ear. More painful to you was knowing that he was off limits.

Because he told you that himself, after your inquisitive mouth pried on his thoughts on relationships. He's been single for years and he's not actively looking for someone.

It seemed easier to you to best leave it alone. And most painful for you to know that he wasn't looking for you either.

Or so you thought.

It was Friday night. The city was not particularly busy at one in the morning but the few cars on transit had music playing loud on speakers as they passed by.

You made it to the rooftop of your building, feeling so drowsy and frustrated from the lack of sleep that you rested your head on the top of the ledge, using your forearms as a pillow.

The restlessness caused by the inability to sleep made your chest and head tired.

You've tried many things to combat insomnia. Ranging from getting sleeping pills or gummies (which worked, but didn't like the co-dependence they created), calming teas (didn't work), exercise (at what cost, really), special gummies (fun but don't really work after a while), etcetera.

So, like the dramatic you were, you decided to suffer through it.

The rattling noise caused by the exit door of the rooftops startled you, making you snap your head back to see Joshua stepping out into the chill air of the night. 

You wanted to say that Joshua was a sight for sore eyes. Yes. But deep down, you only knew that seeing him, being around him would only end up bad for you.

"Hi, Joshua," you mumbled nonetheless when he crossed the space between you and him.

Dressed all in black, hoodie, sweatpants, sneakers, he looked irresistible. And on top of that he looked disappointed too, or upset.

A question rose in the back of your mind: did he hear you use the fire exit to come to the rooftop and that's how he found you were here?

You had to tilt your head back to look up at him. His tired eyes studied your face, almost as if he had forgotten the features from it. Even in the cold air, you felt blood creep on your cheeks, so hot you thought it'd cause frostbite.

"You've been avoiding me."

Oh, he was upset.

"I haven't," you lied and you even put up the act of it and shook your head innocently.

"Why?" he asked, ignoring your obvious lie.

"I'm not avoiding you, Joshua. I've been busy, that's all," you replied.

That last part was true. But you made sure that you stayed busy to have little time for him.

"Did I do something wrong? The other night. I understand if you don't want to see me but I just want to know," he asked slowly, his curious eyes gathering every single movement and expression you made.

Your whole body shook with the memory of the last night you saw him—of him taking care of you after fucking you hard, making you feel things like no one ever had made you feel.

"Everything's fine, Joshua. You did no-nothing wrong," you stammered nervously.

He didn't look satisfied with your answer. Probably because it was pretty evident that you were holding back the truth.

It was crazy how well he read you, he didn't even know you for long.

"I uh-'m about to finish the manuscript," you blurted, not knowing if starting small talk was the smartest thing, but in your anxiousness from seeing him again, that's the first thing you went for.

Joshua blinked. "That means you won't need me anymore," he said in a hollow tone as a corner of his lips rose slightly in a faint but bitter smile.

"That was the deal," you frowned, bewildered at his reaction. "I'm submitting the final version on monday."

He nodded silently, pushing his black bangs from his forehead with one hand.

Something inside you fluttered again. God, he's so beautiful. His plump lips and big dark eyes, his large pretty hands, his soft voice. Intoxicating.

"So I have three nights left," he frowned slightly.

You nodded, the fluttering inside you intensified, stealing your breath away.

"If you'd still have me, obviously," his pierced eyebrow arched. "Unless that's why you're avoiding me."

He couldn't be farther from the truth.

A frustrated sigh broke in your chest. "Shut up, Joshua," you whispered into his lips, using a hand on his nape to pull him to you, which he kissed back instantly, and almost fervently.

Joshua's chest vibrated with a groan when your other hand crept up to reach the crook of his neck. Kissing him again this deeply and passionately almost broke you, it did something to your brain, like taking a breath for the first time in days.

"You drive me crazy," he groaned, pressing your body with his own against the hard wall of the ledge.

You gasped and looked at his eyes before his mouth was on yours again. Your hands grabbed his face as his mouth kissed you heatedly, almost angrily.

"Do you remember your safeword?" he breathed against you, pushing his forehead to your own.

The safeword immediately was uttered by you, no second thought paid to what this would cost you, what this would mean to you.

"That's my girl," he whispered as his fingers gingerly grabbed your cheek, to kiss your lips softly over and over again.

It killed you how much some simple words would have your knees wobbling. You weren't his girl. But god, you ached for it to be true.

"Joshua," you whispered back in between kisses.

"Mm?" he hummed, moving his lips to your jaw and below your ear.

"Please, just..." you moaned when you felt his lips reach the crook of your neck, where he breathed softly as he placed open mouthed kisses on your skin.

"What is it, princess?" he asked, still torturing you with tender kisses on your neck, your body pressed against the wall of the ledge on the rooftop.

"Let's go to mine," you managed to get out, your fingers reaching the side of his head, feeling his soft dark hair.

"What if I want you right here?" he groaned gruffly, his mouth coming back to yours to kiss you, muffling a weak moan from you. "Would you like that, sweetheart?"

A rush of adrenaline at the thought of Joshua fucking you against the wall burned in your bones. "Yes, oh god, yes," you whimpered pathetically.

He hummed in approval, his hands grabbing your waist to give you a gentle squeeze. "You'd let me fuck you anywhere?" he nudged his nose with yours.

You nodded slightly, the tip of your nose brushing his. "I would. Anywhere, Shua."

"Even if someone sees?" he asked, darting a look down to your lips then your eyes.

You considered it for a second. "Yeah, I think so," you nodded. 

His dark eyes glinted in fascination, a mischievous smile showing his teeth. "Lean against the wall, bunny. I wanna lift you up."

You did as he told, leaning your shoulder blades against the brick wall of the ledge the same time he hoisted your legs around his hips, pressing your body between his own and the wall.

"Why are you in your pjs?" he asked with a small smile when he appeared to be seeing you clearly once you were in his arms.

"I can't sleep," you explained, trying to kiss him again but he pulled his head back a bit, stopping you.

"Why?" he frowned.

Because of you.

"I just can't sleep," you insisted flatly. "You know this."

"I know but–," he pointed with his nose at your bunny pyjamas. "You're shivering."

"It's cold," you replied with a meek smile.

He rolled his eyes with a sweet smile. "Right. Seems like we're taking this to your place, then."

"Nooo," you cried out, cupping the side of his head to try and kiss him again, you grazed his lips as you added: "I wan' you here. Right now."

A low moan coiled in his throat when your tongue swiped past his lower lip and brushed against his. "Brat," he whispered, adjusting your body in his arms to pull away from the wall, carrying you altogether and toward the door that led back inside the building.

You instinctively wrapped your legs and arms around him to hold onto his strong body until he put you back to the floor to lead you down the stairs.

"Is your lock still the same?" he asked when you got to your door.

You nodded, your body had stopped shivering now that you were in the hallway of the heated building.

He entered the number combination of your door to open it for you and you were quick to hold onto his hand to take him directly to your bedroom, earning a soft chuckle from him.

Something broke inside you, something desperate, eager and hungry. You were growing addicted to him and been deprived from his touch for two weeks.

You turned to him and grabbed his head as he dipped for a reciprocated needy kiss. Your hands slid down to his chest to push him against your bed, he stumbled backwards.

Though his body barely touched the foot of the bed, he understood what you wanted. 

"Impatient little thing," he sighed, revealing an amused smile.

"I missed you," you admitted despite yourself pushing him again so that he climbed to the bed backwards before kicking his shoes. You followed his movements, climbing the bed after him.

Impatience is a funny thing, it manifests in you in the most unexpected ways. It made you confident enough to get him under your body, his hands reaching out to knead your thighs through your bunny pyjamas as you straddled him, feeling his already hardened length as you pressed against him.

You repeated the movement, anchoring your hands on his hard chest to press on him again and again, thus grinding on him, making yourself moan and salivate upon feeling how big he felt, how hard for you he was already. 

"Fuck," he whispered softly, grabbing your hips to follow your movements, his face contorted slightly. 

"Did you miss me?" you asked meekly, your heart thumping violently against your chest.

"Is that what you wanted?" he retorted bitterly.

Then his hands tightened on your hips, and deciding it wasn't enough, he slipped them under your pyjama bottoms and undies to grab and knead your ass along with a groan.

"That's not an answer, Joshua," you pointed matter-of-factly.

A low chuckle escaped his mouth. "You're bossy tonight, princess," he muttered.

You pressed your hips down a bit harder and more demanding against his hard cock. You knew you wouldn't last long like this, since you were already feeling breathless and tired.

Joshua's eyes were trained on you, shining with a glint of fascination. His hands grabbed your ass firmly, following the movements of your hips against his cock. He even blinked slowly, as if not wanting to miss a fraction of a second of this.

His hands moved up from your ass, following the line of your back, gathering your top along to remove it completely with a bit of your help.

Joshua knew you were growing tired, he could see it as his awe-struck eyes were looking at you fixedly. "You're good at riding, baby," he mumbled with a small smile. "But you're a bit tired, aren't you?"

You nodded embarrassedly.

His knuckles grazed your nipples and started teasing them with his fingers, pinching at them softly, making you moan and buckle your hips against him.

"I need you, Joshua," you admitted and half pleaded.

Joshua chuckled softly, an amused look on his face. He kept watching you lose control on top of him, grinding on top of him desperately, your panties were so wet already that the fabric was sticking to your throbbing core.

You were beginning to feel desperate for release just from rubbing your fully clothed cunt against his hard (and also clothed) cock, moaning as his fingers teased your nipples.

"Please, please, Shua. I need you so bad," you whimpered as you swayed your hips desperately on him, beginning to feel that if you continued you would cum without him even touching you properly.

"What do you need from me, baby? You seem to be getting off like this," he muttered with his honeyed voice, looking at you with smiling eyes.

"Shua, please, I need you to—god-" you were cut short when Joshua lifted his hips from the bed slightly, pressing his hard cock against your core.

Your hands slid up his chest and held onto his shoulders to angle your clit on top of his hard cock, rubbing it desperately through your clothes and his.

"Take control, Joshua," you swallowed hard, panting from the exercise. "I need you to take control."

With all of the ease in the world, his hands grabbed you before he pushed your body on the bed and swiftly moved his body on top of yours.

"See that wasn't so hard," he muttered with a grin.

"You're enjoying this," you pointed, narrowing your eyes.

"It was fun watching you almost come with half your clothes on," his pierced brow arched slightly.

You blushed and tried to roll your eyes, feeling certain that although he said he was having fun, he was aching to take control as much as you were.

"You're being mean," you pouted, pretending to be offended.

A large hand cupped the side of your head, pushing away your hair with his fingers.

"That's what you get for shutting me out, sweetheart," he grunted before clashing his hot mouth on yours.

The kiss was greedy and dominating, almost as if he wanted to kiss your very soul. Joshua had never kissed you like that before, and you thought that maybe in past kisses he might have been holding back.

You moaned in his mouth, your hand sliding on his nape as the other held onto his shoulder.

"I looked for you, I knocked on your door but you never answered," he muttered in a dangerously low tone, sending chills down your spine.

He moved back and yanked your pyjama bottoms down, bringing your ruined panties along, leaving you wholly naked on the sheets of your messy bed.

"'m sorry," you muttered, looking down at your bare body left at the mercy of his scrutiny.

"Mmm, yeah. I've heard you say that before," he smiled playfully, making your insides jolt again.

He slowly placed his two hands on each side of your head, his arms towering on your sides as he dipped his head to place a feathery kiss on your lips, so slow and barely kissing that you felt his breath on your tongue.

"I think you like it," he said faintly into your lips, his voice below a murmur. "You disappeared on me to make me want you, is that it?"

"No, Joshua, I–"

"Because it worked," he cut in, lowering down his body so that his elbows pressed on the bed, you felt his weight on you. "I missed you."

"You did?" you asked, searching his eyes.

"I shouldn't—I know," he said as he clasped his mouth against yours, as if not wanting to hear what you'd say.

You moaned in protest on his lips.

Joshua broke the kiss with a soft smacking sound from his lips. "I'm your fuckbuddy, your toy to use."

"Joshua, you're not–" you tried to protest.

"I give you everything you want," he continued, pressing his forehead against yours, avoiding your gaze. "I make you feel good. I fuck you and leave the next day," he ran the tip of his finger down your cheek. "All for you to write about it."

The words started to sink in, and you got the full view of you in his perspective. And you understood why he was upset.

The transaction between you and him might not be as fair as you initially thought—he gets your body, however he wants it, whenever he wants it, or so it was the deal before you chickened out.

And in turn, you get pleasure, you feel wanted because of him and on top of it you get to use those experiences with him to finish your book.

"Joshua," you tried to protest, but he quickly brought a thumb to brush over your wet lips.

"I don't want to hear it," he whispered softly. "You owe me no explanations."

"But I feel like I do," you replied shamefully.

Joshua shook his head slightly. "We'll talk when I'm done with you," he pushed his forehead against yours again. "I need you right now."

At that, you were quickly subdued under his feathery kisses that progressed to more demanding, heated kisses. His tongue brushing yours, his lips firmly clasped on yours as his hands roamed freely on your bare skin, caressing your hips, to bring your legs around him so he could be between them.

In the back of your mind something protested: you didn't want Joshua to go on one more night thinking that you were using him. Even if you were.

But a louder voice told you that it probably seemed better to give him what he wanted now and then you could talk.

You pinched at the sides of his oversized hoodie, bringing it up and you slid your hands under the bundles of fabric to feel his bare back, eliciting a groan from him when your hands made their way to his lats.

Joshua pulled away to get rid of his hoodie, revealing his bare torso. His hair got ruffled in the way, so you reached out with your hands pushing his black hair away from his eyes.

"You're not going to tie me up this time?" you asked, remembering the last time you were in this position, except you were firmly tied to the rails of your bed.

"I have something else planned for tonight, sweetheart," he replied shortly, kissing under your jaw and using two fingers on your chin to angle your head for him.

You gave him no answer, and resorted to whining when you felt his lips on the crook of your neck, sucking slightly in the spots he knew well that would earn lewd sounds from your mouth.

Last time he did this, he marked your neck and chest with love bites, so visible and so enticing that you noticed a few curious glances from people you met on the street. You liked it, though. Liked that whenever you looked in the mirror you had a little reminder of him.

You sighed softly when his mouth made its way to your tits, where he landed more wet kisses around your areolas, biting at the soft flesh, making you cry out when his mouth captured your nipples, playing with them with his tongue and fingers each.

While you squirmed under his body, the only thing you could do was hold onto his shoulders, stroke his hair and tug at it whenever his bites would get harsher, making you moan desperately for more.

"Shua, please," you whimpered when his tongue flickered on one of your nipples, teasing with bites and more kisses.

He hummed in response, moving his hand from your waist and between your bodies, to then slip his middle and ring fingers inside you with no warning.

You gasped loudly and tugged his hair harder, making him stop teasing your tits to give you a glance as he pushed his fingers in and out of your slippery walls, massaging them with every thrust.

Soft whimpers were muffled by his mouth when he hovered on top of you to look at your face as he worked you cunt open for him, making you feel the drag of his fingers against your walls.

"What happened, baby? You were so bossy five minutes ago," he cooed, the corners of his red lips lifting slightly.

You swallowed hard. "I need you to-ahm fuck, Shua," his fingers started scissoring in your gummy walls as you tried to speak.

"I love it when you start cursing," he muttered, looking at you with a glint of amusement.

His hand started pumping on you harder and he crooked his fingers against your walls to reach for your g-spot, making you cry out and grab at his shoulders, digging your fingers on his skin.

"I need you inside me, Shua. Please," you whimpered pathetically, feeling your cheeks blaze under his devious gaze.

He pulled his fingers out of your throbbing core and thrusted them inside your mouth for you to lick them clean.

"Where did you put the condoms, sweetheart?" he asked, watching you suck his fingers obediently, only to drag them out of your mouth with a faint smack from your lips.

"In my drawer," you replied a second before Joshua's mouth was already on yours, lapping his tongue on your own to get a taste of you. 

Joshua knew you meant the drawer where you kept all your toys and underwear. He went to your first drawer and opened it to fish out the strip of condoms, get rid of the rest of his clothes, and come back to your bed.

He crawled back to you where you waited for him patiently, enjoying the sight of him naked once again.

"I want you on your knees," he muttered as he softly placed tender kisses on your lips and chin.

"M'kay," you nodded and Joshua pulled back so you could turn and follow his instruction.

A second later you felt his hand on your lower back press gently. "Bend for me, bunny."

You placed your hands on the bed as you angled your ass for him without a word, your breath coiling in your throat, making you bite your lips.

His hand slid from your lower back down to your ass, making you whimper when he caressed your skin carnally.

"You have the prettiest ass," he muttered, his other hand joining in and grabbing you firmly, adjusting you for him.

One hand left your ass and soon you felt his cockhead nudging at your entrance before pushing his length in your tight and wet walls, drawing out a long whine from you from a mixture of pleasure and pain of having him almost splitting you open with his cock.

You heard him release a heavy breath. "Fuck," he whispered when he bottomed out, grabbing you firmly before dragging out and pushing in again. "You're okay?"

You nodded. "Move, please, move, Joshua," you whimpered, feeling your pussy throb around his cock, adjusting to his size again after days of not having him inside you.

He chuckled faintly. "There's my bossy girl," he muttered before complying, rocking his hips against your ass.

Then the room was filled with the sound of sex as his hips picked up pace, slamming against your ass repeatedly, making your body bounce against him and the headboard creak and bang against the wall.  

You let out a strangled moan as you lowered yourself down to your elbows, arching your back for him. "God, Joshua," you groaned, feeling him hit deeply inside you.

Moans and whimpers spilled from your lips, which were partially muffled by pressing half of your face on your pillows.

"Fuck. You look so good like this, princess," you heard him whisper again in that awe-struck tone and you wished to have a way to see his face as he fucked you like this.

Maybe you could ask him to fuck you in front of a mirror next time, you thought. But then that would have to happen very soon, since like he said, your deal will be off in three nights.

His hands clenched on your ass and you felt him lift a hand from one of your glutes, only to bring it down in a harsh slap that reverberated across your room.

You yelped in pain, your skin sizzling on the area, and prickling when he used the same hand to rub gently. Arousal grew on your body when you felt him caress the recently tingling area.

"Harder," you muttered against your pillows. "Fuck me harder, Joshua."

You heard him chuckle softly. "Ask nicely, baby," he groaned before bringing a hand up and spanking you again harshly.

"Please, please, Joshua. I need you to fuck me harder. I need it, I need it so fucking bad, please," you cried and whimpered as your fists clenched your bedsheets, holding on as if your life depended on it.

His fingers dug on your skin before ramming his cock so deep and hard inside you that the very air escaped your lungs. The very act of having him fuck you so hard made you lose all control, your mind completely blank, all focus on his cock fucking you open.

You pressed your forehead on your pillows to muffle your cries, savoring your sweet release.

"I want to hear you, princess," he reminded you, his hand lifting again and landing in a harsher slap this time.

"Fuck!" you yelled, your head snapping back.

Your walls throbbed and clenched around his cock, feeling the sizzling on your skin be softened by his hand rubbing gently in your ass.

"Joshua," you gasped before he slapped your ass again, his hips pummeled against your ass incessantly, just how you wanted. "Fuck, I'm so close, 'm so close. Can I come? Please, please, 'm almost there."

"There's my good girl," he muttered, his hands clenching on your skin, fingers sinking on the sides of your hips as he continued to ram into you. "You can come, baby. Come on my cock."

A couple of thrusts later your orgasm washed over your body, burning so deep inside that it had you wailing loudly, your screams of pleasure reverberating against the walls.

Your fists clenched on your bedsheets in an attempt to stop your body from trembling, the pressure from the last waves of your long orgasm had you stirring your back as your whimpers flooded the room.

Your orgasm was long—the longest you've had yet. You whimpered his name as he rode your orgasm, hearing his soft groans under your moans of pleasure.

"God, Joshua," you sighed, starting to feel lightheaded.

The walls of your cunt ceased clenching erratically around him, but the wild need for more sizzled under your skin.

Joshua stopped ramming his hips against you some seconds later, the buzz on your ears started to die down, you heard his loud panting and raw groans.

His hands kept you in place, stopping you from simply collapsing into the bed until he slowly pulled out of your very sensitive walls, losing his grip on your body. 

With trembling limbs, you languidly let your body slump down on your bedsheets. Meekly turning around to find him on his knees before you, his head thrown back showing his sweaty neck, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

Your eyes trailed down to his chest, that was also covered in a sheen layer of sweat, to his happy trail that led to his still hardened cock. The condom was full of his cum and it was so much of it, the sight of it made you shudder in a fascination that was very new to you.

You didn't even realize when he came.

The aftermath of being fucked so hard left you beyond tired, your mind was still blank, the only thing on your mind was how good it felt to be fucked open. Your skin had goosebumps all over, and your legs and legs trembled ever so slightly and it wasn't from being cold.

Joshua came down to his senses before you did, leaning his head down to look at you. "Are you okay?"

You blinked at him slowly and nodded. "'m okay."

He patted your leg softly. "C'mon, bunny. Let's get in the shower."

Your heart fluttered frantically. "No," you mumbled, turning your face onto the pillows.

"Do you want me to carry you?" you heard him ask.

You shook your head. "I'll meet you there," you told him, turning your face for him to hear you properly.

He rolled his eyes, but showed you a small smile. "If you don't, I'll come back for you."

You smiled back. "I expect nothing less."

He climbed down your bed and disappeared from your bedroom. Minutes later, you heard the faint noise from the shower in the distance as you gathered yourself.

You felt dirty, sticky. Not because of the fact that you just had sex. And not in the way that would be solved by taking a shower.

With a sigh, you collected yourself and stumbled from your bed. Dragging your body to the shower, where you found Joshua standing under the stream of water, his hands pushing his hair back.

The urge to ask him to take you again invaded you when you saw him like this. He looked incredibly hot, his soaked black hair pushed back, his eyes closed to let the water wash his face, his mouth parted a little. The water running between his toned pecs, to his bellybutton, to-

"Hi," you smiled sheepishly when he caught you staring at him.

He offered you a smile before cupping your face with his wet hands. "Sure you're okay?" he asked, looking at your eyes.

"Yeah," you breathed, holding his wrists weakly. "'m just a bit tired."

His smile grew and his eyebrow lifted. "Well, yeah. I almost break you."

You felt your cheeks grow hotter.

Joshua moved so that you had space to stand under the showerhead. "Let me," he muttered and you understood that he wanted to help you wash up.

God, why is he like this? He made it harder for you, being so caring and affectionate with you only fucked with your head.

He washed your hair in silence, the warm water and his gentle fingers rubbing your scalp almost drew you to snooze right there and then.

"Why do you do this, Joshua?" you asked, breaking the silence between you.

"Do what?" he replied, his voice low.

"Taking care of me after sex. I know you call it aftercare, but I want to know why you'd bother to do this," you mumbled, not caring that you were being a bit blunt with your words. 

"Mmm, I think it's important to treat you right. You're good to me, I'll be good to you," he hummed. "How did you feel after having sex with your former partners?"

"I didn't care enough to stay," you darted a look back to him as he washed your back.

You actually thought that it was way too intimate when Joshua held you after sex. But you found out that you liked it. In fact you liked it so much that it was one of the things you looked forward to the most then you slept with him.

His eyes searched your face for a moment. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No. I like this," you frowned. "I'm not asking you to stop. I just wanted to know what you're thinking."

There was a brief pause, but his hands kept busy washing your hair. "I think that you're thinking too much about it."

Maybe you were. Maybe you had found that you liked it when he showed you so much care and attention after sex. And maybe that was the reason why you were falling fast for him.

"Are you falling asleep, bunny?" he asked with his sweet voice when you leaned your head back on his shoulder, letting him rub soap all over your body.

You nodded weakly. "Seems like the best cure for insomnia is to have really hard sex," you mumbled.

A soft laugh came from him and you imagined his beautiful smile. Then his lips pressed on the side of your head, making your heart flutter frantically.

"We're almost done," he muttered.

He also helped you towel dry your body and hair before returning to your bedroom. You saw him gathering your pyjamas from the floor, and before he could do or say anything about them, you grabbed him by the arm and dragged him with you toward the bed.

You snuggled him under your bed sheets, avoiding his curious eyes by hiding your face on the crook of his neck despite how affectionate the act felt.

Instantly, your stomach fluttered with all the dreaded emotions you've been trying to avoid for the past few days.

You shuddered when his arms encircled your body, tugging you as close as humanly possible to his own.

"Do you still want to talk?" you heard him ask.

"I..." you craned your neck to look at his face. "I'm sorry for distancing myself, I... was busy," you whispered, feeling the need to explain more.

But he shook his head slightly. "I get it if you need space," he muttered, looking at you with sincere eyes. "Just, tell me next time, okay?"

"There won't be a next time, Joshua," you whispered. "Deal's off on monday."

He tucked his arm under his head to look at you intently. "That doesn't mean you won't disappear on me tomorrow," he smiled softly.

"Don't worry, I won't disappear," you rolled your eyes at the last word.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll hold you to that statement."

"Okay, sir," you smiled. "How are you going to do that?"

"If I tell you you'll ruin the fun of it," his teeth showed as his smile broadened.

You chuckled, your chest swelling with emotions you didn't want to acknowledge.

He appeared to be knowing that you still had something to say but couldn't. "Get some rest, bunny. You deserve it," he muttered before kissing your forehead repeatedly.

"G'night, Shua," you whispered before sleeping peacefully for the first time in nights.

Joshua woke up before you did.

Before you opened your eyes, you reached out with your arms beneath the covers on the side he had slept in, only to find it empty. That made you open your eyes, reaffirming that you were alone in your bed.

"Joshua?" you called, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

The clock on your phone read eleven o'clock. You usually didn't oversleep, since your sleeping habits were so bad.

"Oh, god," you sighed, dropping your phone on the bedcovers.

You buried your face in your hands for a few seconds before you noticed that there was no other noise in your apartment indicating that Joshua heard you call for him.

Something clenched hard in your chest, as if the bitter reality had punched you in your heart. You jumped out of your bed, inspecting your bedroom to find no trace of Joshua's belongings. You then dressed in your pyjamas before going to the living room.

A part of you tried to tell you that he probably had plans to tend to, and that was fair. Your relationship was purely sexual, so there was no need to wake up together like an actual couple.

But the other part of you was aching to know why he had left like that.

You grabbed your phone that you abandoned on your bed. It was fruitless, though, since you hadn't even exchanged phone numbers.

Teary eyed, you tried not to let it get into you.

However, the onslaught of anxieties invaded your mind quickly. How were you supposed to react? Would you feel indifferent if you weren't infatuated with him? Nothing could rub off the fact that Joshua came in last night, fucked you and then left while you slept.

Even if you tried to distract yourself, you couldn't shrug off the feeling that if you had listened to yourself last night before kissing him again, you wouldn't be feeling this dumb.

Would pretending that what happened last night help? Probably not. But did you have the need to distance yourself from the fact that you were hurt he left without saying bye? Yes.

So you pretended he didn't exist at all and you took yourself out for a stroll to the mall, and the bookstore, buy something cute for yourself.

It was childish, you knew that much. Buying yourself cute stuff in the attempt to rid your mind off the thought of him was only a reaffirmation that he was very much present in your mind. And was costing you money, if you dared to pay more attention to it.

No, you're doing this for you. You told yourself over and over again.

You bought yourself a new outfit, a novel that had been on your feed the past month, a lavender candle for your studio, and you even indulged in buying a new lingerie set. Only for you, obviously.

You came back to your building hands full: shopping bags on both hands, and you managed to carry milk tea in the midst. So when you got into your elevator, you found yourself in a bit of a tussle.

"Do you need help with that?" you heard someone ask, making you tear your eyes from the buttons of the elevator to find a young man, of sharp nose and sweet brown eyes.

"Thank you," you smiled shyly and stepped back. "I'm on the third floor."

The stranger's lithe fingers only pressed the button on the third floor.

"Ah, look at that. Me too," he smiled politely.

"We're neighbors, then," you pointed out the obvious with the intention of being friendly. "I'm 317."

"Aaahh," he sighed while nodding his head, the tips of his ears growing red. "Nice. 318," he pointed one finger to his frame.

Your stomach dropped. So this was Joshua's roommate.

"Nice meeting you," you smiled, feeling your cheeks grow hot. But you told him your name nonetheless.

"Nice meeting you too, I'm Seokmin," he nodded politely, but you just couldn't ignore how red his ears had turned.

You knew why you were feeling hot in your face. Unfortunately, you've heard him and his girlfriend having sex a couple of times. But why was he blushed too?

Oh, crap. Has he heard you and Joshua?

"Well, see you around," he nodded again when the doors of the elevator parted and he hurried toward his apartment door.

"See you," you muttered, but he was already opening his door and closing it immediately.

You got in your apartment, kicking your shoes and dropping your bags on the floor of your living room before sitting down on your comfy couch to chew absentmindedly on the straw.

Mind reeling, you thought of the times when you screamed Joshua's name as you came. Did his roommate hear that? The walls were thin, so it was all too likely that he'd heard your lewd noises.

A soft knock on your door startled you, stopping your train of thought. And suddenly, you were running to your door, opening it to find Joshua standing outside.

Not a word came out from your mouth—you didn't say hi, or cuss him out, as you thought you would while you were busy trying to shrug him off your thoughts.

You just grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and dragged him inside your apartment as your lips met his.

"Hi there yourself," Joshua muttered, an amused smile on his lips once you broke away to let him in.

"No talking," you shushed, your hand slipping on his nape to pull him for another kiss.

He muffled a chuckle in your mouth, using a hand on your waist to pull you closer to his frame.

"''m sorry for leaving this morning, I-" he stammered quickly in between needy kisses from you.

"I said no talking," you insisted with a whine.

He looked amused for a moment. Then he bit his lower lip before bending down, his hands that were on your waist quickly lifted you up just like the night before, so you quickly caught on to what he was trying to do.

You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you and threw you on your bed, making you yelp in excitement and prop yourself on your elbows to take a look at him.

Joshua kicked his boots off before pressing a knee on the mattress. He was wearing something stylish, in line with his general style, but he also looked flawless, almost as if camera ready.

"Where were you?" you inquired, seeing his denim blue jacket, equally blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt.

Unlike the night before, his hair was arranged carefully, a few stray strands of hair hanging neatly on his forehead.

"I thought you didn't want to talk," he replied as he took his blue denim jacket off and dropped to the floor.

Joshua appeared to be in a haste. He grabbed the hem of the blouse you wore and you automatically raised your arms for him to drag your pretty top off you.

"I'm curious now," you sighed, trying to look unbothered.

You lowered your head on your pillows to watch him undo the button of his blue jeans with one free hand and then step out of them and his half naked body climbed on top of yours.

"I was busy," he told you indifferently, reading your expression with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Oh, I see," your eyebrows arched. "That's how it is. Okay."

He cocked the pierced eyebrow at you, almost mimicking your expression. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," you replied quickly. "Why would I be?"

Joshua sighed a small chuckle when your hands went to the hem of his shirt, trying to take it off his body. He helped you through it, moving his body back to pull his body from the pristine white fabric.

He tossed his t-shirt to the floor. "You tell me, baby. You're the one with the attitude," he pointed, his tone was not condescending, he sounded amused at your tantrum.

"I don't have an attitude," you bit back as you unclasped your bra. "It was just a question."

He helped you move your bra out of the way. "I had a showcase to some producers," he explained as the smile broadened on his face.

"And earlier this morning?" you blurted, your cheeks growing blazing hot.

When you saw his eyes bore into your again, there was a glint of intrigue in them. As if he'd just put two and two.

"Are you asking me why I left when you were sleeping?" he didn't wait for your answer, but you could tell that his gaze softened. "I had to leave early and I just didn't wake you cause I knew that you needed sleep."

You felt embarrassed but eased into the bed. "Oh, okay. I'm sorry," you darted a look in his amused face.

"I didn't think it would upset you," he said as his eyes captured every movement. "I'm sorry if it did."

"Oh, no, nonono," you blurted hurriedly. "I didn't—when did I say I was upset?"

"Did you think I left to make you feel bad in any way?" he ventured with a small confused frown.

"No—of course not. I just thought," you stammered, but stopped once you found yourself at a loss for reasons.

His eyes locked on yours. "Why did you think I'd do that?"

"Because I avoided you for weeks," you mumbled with a small roll of your eyes, feeling annoyed at yourself from earlier.

"Mmm, so you do admit to that, baby?" the corners of his lips rose slightly.

You bit your tongue so hard your eyes watered.

Joshua's gaze hardened, with a sigh he pushed the tip of his nose on the apple of your cheek almost lovingly before muttering: "I thought you trusted me, sweetheart."

You swallowed thickly. "Joshua, I'm sorry," you tried to explain but he cut you off.  

"You need to stop saying that," he whispered against your cheek before pressing his lips on your cheekbone. "Especially when you don't mean it."

Your brow furrowed. "I mean it," you replied innocently. "I'm sorry."

"Prove it," he muttered darkly in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I'll do anything," you replied all too quickly.

"No talking, baby," he growled in your ear. 

You watched him climb down the bed and open the top drawer to get the fuzzy handcuffs he had gotten for you.

"Joshua, I-"

"I said no talking," he repeated, and unlike you, he made his command firm. "If you want to stop, use your safeword."

Half naked, he climbed back to the bed, and sat on his knees on top of you, straddling you, without lowering his full weight on you.

"Give me your hand," he locked one wrist first and placed your arm above your head, to then wrap the handcuffs around one of the rails of your bed.

"Give me the other," he instructed and you offered him your free wrist for him to place it above your head on the pillows, safely cuffing it with your other hand.

Two fingers grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to lock on his. "Good girl," he whispered, placing a feathery kiss on your lips. "You only behave when you're about to get my cock. Right, pretty?"

You looked at him expectantly, feeling your face grow hotter.

The corners of his lips rose slightly when you didn't utter a word. "You could've been perfect for me," he whispered, his fingers moving from your chin, to graze your cheek fondly. "If only you weren't such a liar."

There was no answer from you. But he could see in your eyes that his words stung.

"How do you expect me to believe every word you say if your actions tell the opposite?" he inquired softly.

Even if you could talk, you knew you had nothing to say.

He tutted softly, with an air of disappointment. "Telling me you trust me, only to disappear right after."

Joshua moved from your body to undo the button of your jeans. You lifted your hips from the bed to help him get your jeans from your body and he smiled at your compliance.

Though you were also eager to see where this was going.

"You're so beautiful," he muttered, sounding fascinated as he looked at your bare body and his eyes landed on your face.

Your heart stuttered but when your eyes locked with his, you could've broke right then and there. But you bit back your words.

"I think I'm going to miss this, baby. I'm going to miss you so much," he mumbled.

It was then that you understood he was taunting you by saying sweet nothings to prompt you to speak, and it hurt you to realize it this late. Whether or not the things he was saying were true, he knew you would want to respond to him.

You glared at him as he moved on top of your body again. He caught your eye immediately, leaning his head to kiss the bridge of your nose sweetly.

"Remember when you told me you liked me?" he asked and waited for your answer, teasing you by nibbling your lower lip with his teeth. "Were you lying about that too?"

Though mildly hurt from his words, you tried holding his gaze, hoping Joshua would see the sincerity in them.

If he did, he didn't let it show.

He dipped his head on the crook of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses on your skin, holding nothing back. He licked and kissed on your sensitive spots, which he had apparently already learned by heart.

Joshua said nothing about not moaning so you moaned loudly as he sucked lovebites below your earlobe, and in the curve between your shoulder and neck, trailing down to your chest and tits. He hummed sweetly as he marked you mercilessly, as if trying to leave his mark in your skin so deeply that nothing could erase him from your memory.

You cried out when he bit the tender flesh around your areolas, only to soothe over it by running his tongue on the sore area softly. You wanted to call out his name—to tell him how good it felt. But you knew it was futile.

"God, baby. You're doing so well right now," he muttered faintly, almost as if he were impressed. "I wonder how well you'll behave with my cock inside you."

You whimpered at the crude language, feeling your body burn in excitement. The cuffs restraining your arms made a rattling noise when you squirmed under his body, making him smile.

"I was thinking of getting you a gag for your lies, but that won't be necessary. Right, bunny? Because you're such a good girl" he cocked an eyebrow at you.

Something inside you stirred, awakening every nerve in your body. You liked it when he spoke to you, he knew that. But feeling pleased after being called good for being compliant came almost as a surprise to you.

Your reaction must have been really evident in your eyes, because Joshua's smile grew broader, with an air of cheekiness.

Joshua sat back into his knees, hooking his fingers on the last piece of clothing, sliding your panties down your legs and throwing them to the side.

"Spread your legs for me, princess," he slotted himself between your thighs when you did what he asked not a second later. "That's it, baby," he whispered before dipping his tongue between your folds, without much warning.

You screwed your eyes shut, biting your lip as hard as you could to avoid running your mouth about how good it felt to have his tongue giving broad strokes against your core.

Joshua ate you out hungrily, almost as if he were trying to rip an orgasm out of you to get you to break his no talking rule. You got a sense that he was testing how far you could go without uttering a word.

You heard him humming in approval when he rendered you utterly languid, moaning and whimpering out in pure bliss. His tongue ran all over your pussy lips, placing soft kisses before laving at your core, drinking your sweet arousal avidly.

The squelching sounds caused by his mouth pressed against your core, plus the moans and cries that it elicited from you flooded the room—until the noise from squeaking bed under your trembling body joined in, and the handcuffs rattling against your bed posts as you came on his mouth.

Gasping embarrassingly for air, you blinked and found his head buried between your thighs. You felt his lips press soft kisses on your mound.

"Did you just cum?" he asked when you were left utterly breathless, and your body went limp on your bed covers.

You nodded weakly, your chest heaving.

"Fuck, baby. You're being so good," he gasped, his smile broadening. "I don't think I'll be able to stay away from you."

Your heart lurched, hurting so bad that you closed your eyes to his beautiful face.

When you opened your eyes, you caught a sight of him moving back from your body, and your eyes unavoidably fell off his hard length pressed against the tight fabric of his black underwear. A shiver ran down your spine when he got rid of the last piece of his clothing and you saw his hard cock practically spring out of his briefs and slap his tummy softly, the reddened tip glistening wet in precum.

Then you followed his hand that reached for the strip of condoms that were on your nightstand. He grabbed one and opened it carefully, and slid the material down his thick cock, a hand making sure the latex was down to his hilt.

Your walls fluttered at the sight of him and you almost wanted to have one hand free to slap yourself. Not even your heart could be at ease with his beauty, but your pussy went crazy about him too.

Joshua caught sight of you biting your lower lip aloofly, reveling at the sight of him completely naked before you. He showed you an amused smile, but for once he didn't tease you about your very evident attraction to him.

"Ready, princess?" he asked, when he placed his body between your thighs.

Missionary? You wanted to tease. But you just nodded at him.

He grabbed his cock with one hand, guiding it to your core to ease himself inside your tight walls. Your legs twitched at his sides at the stinging sensation of having his length pushing your walls open with little to no prep.

"You're so fucking tight, baby," he moaned once he bottomed out and started pulling out slowly. "Almost as if I didn't fuck you last night."

You moaned and squirmed when Joshua pushed his cock on you again, pulling out and then sinking in again.

"You're okay there?" he asked, bumping the tip of your nose with his.

You nodded silently.

His face was so close to yours that you felt his breath landing on your skin—it was then when you realized that he's never kissed you while having sex with you.

Your eyes were lost on his plump lips, so absentmindedly that you didn't notice that he was looking at you.

"Do you want to kiss me, sweetheart?" he asked softly, his hips thrusting against yours tortuously slow.

You nodded.

One corner of his mouth twitched slightly before pressing his lips on yours a couple of times before sinking into a slow, passionate kiss that made him moan into your mouth.

You could've melted into his lips. A sweet moan in pure delight was muffled by Joshua's mouth when you dragged your tongue over his lower lip and met his tongue with your own, that seemingly made him lose control, his hips buckling wildly.

Then he broke away from your lips with a strangled groan, retracting his chest from yours completely. In one sudden movement, he hoisted your legs up, leaning his body towards you so that your thighs were pressed against your chest—trapped between you and him.

If he seemed collected a minute before, Joshua was the total opposite when his hips started to slam against you again, dragging his cock in and out your walls aimlessly. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment.

"Fuck," he muttered in between his teeth.

The almost brutal ache to touch him robbed the air from you, you ached to feel his face in your hands, to caress his skin. You wanted to make him feel good in the same way he did for you, you wanted to please him.

"Are you there, baby?" he asked, noticing you deep in wonder, looking at him with mesmerized eyes.

You only nodded with your head, committed to his rule.

The second orgasm drew near, sizzling under your skin, his cock buried so deep in your walls that after a few thrusts, you were mewling desperately, uttering wordless pleas for release.

You thought you sounded pathetic, dumb. Desperately pleading for your sweet release without being allowed to speak a single word.

Deep down, you knew you were growing an attachment to... whatever this was: the way your body responded to him, the pleasure you got from complying with his games, you knew you wanted more. Joshua was not intoxicating, you were wrong about that, he was addictive.

Tears brimmed in your eyes when Joshua practically rammed his hips against you, fucking you so hard into your bed that your eyes rolled back, the last thing you saw was the pair of handcuffs rattling around the rails of your bed.   

You moaned loudly, back stirring on your bed, your fingers curling into fists so hard your fingernails dug into your palms. The tears ran down your temples as your second orgasm hit you just as hard as the one before it.

"That's it baby," he cooed, sounding pleased. "You're taking it so well," his voice was a mere whisper, you almost didn't catch his words over your loud whimpers and the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

When you opened your eyes again, his brow was furrowed, his eyelids fluttering close. He bit his lower lip, muffling a raspy groan as his thrusts became sloppy, ramming his cock to the hilt inside your walls a few times as he came.

Joshua eased your shaking legs back to your bed, then he retracted his hips from yours, slowly pulling out of your oversensitive core. In a matter of seconds, he was grabbing the key to release your wrists from the fuzzy cuffs.

"Are you okay?" he asked carefully.

As he worked to get your hands free, his head was hovering above yours. You looked at his dark eyes, his chapped lips, the furrowed brow in weariness when you wouldn't come up with a verbal response.

"'m good," you replied with a hoarse voice.

Though the handcuffs were padded with fuzzy fabric, your wrists were sore from the struggle. With a sigh of relief you let your arms rest at your sides, feeling the tiredness from being stuck in the same position for minutes.

"Hold on, let me clean up and I'll be right back, okay?" he muttered, planting one kiss on your forehead before leaving the room.

When he returned some minutes later, he had grabbed a glass of water for you. "Drink up."

You sat up weakly, your arms and legs felt shaky and weak from the demanding position you were for minutes that you could barely support yourself.

Joshua examined you with his curious eyes as you drank the glass of water.

"Thank you, Shua," you smiled at him.

He sat beside you on the bed. "Sure you're okay?"

You nodded, leaving the empty glass on your nightstand before slumping down on your pillows.

"Cuddle with me," you mumbled shyly.

Joshua complied silently, crawling on your bed to lie down by your side. He propped his head on his elbow, as his other arm circled you by your waist.

Trying to savor your last night with him, you closed your eyes as soon as you felt his warmth against your back. You almost let yourself pretend that this wasn't your second to last night with him. 

"Talk to me, bunny," he whispered after a brief moment of silence.

"What do you want me to say?" you mumbled, bewildered at the sudden command.

"Just tell me what you're thinking, please," you looked at him, his curious eyes scrutinizing your face. "You're not here."

You frowned. "I'm here, Joshua," you replied slowly.

He shook his head. "I know you're overthinking again."

You scoffed loudly. "Oh, yeah? And you know that how exactly?"

"Don't do that," his hand tapped your tummy gently.

"Do what?"

He paused for a brief moment, as if searching for the right words to say. "Deflect. You're deflecting," he muttered.

"So what if I am?" you replied bitterly, turning on your bed so you were fully facing him.

What were you supposed to say? You weren't even sure how you felt exactly, because you knew you were falling for the idea of him like this, holding you close to him. How could you translate that into words? He didn't believe you anyway.

"You know I'm not really angry with you, right?" he asked, maybe thinking that was the reason you were quiet.

"I know," you reassured him. "I really am sorry, Joshua."

You gave him a sincere look, Joshua sighed softly under a smile. "Don't worry, princess. I know," he pressed his hand flatly on your back. "I just wish you could tell me what's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering me," you laughed at his sincere worry. "I'm okay, Joshua."

"Mmkay," he muttered, setting the matter aside reluctantly.

You scooted closer to him on the bed, nuzzling to the warmth of his body.

"Are you cold?" he asked, noticing when you exhaled, pleased to have his warmth on your skin. "We can get under the covers if you want."

"This is okay," you replied.

Joshua locked eyes with you for a second and you averted your gaze, looking down at your bodies on your bed.

"We never got to do your list," he smiled slightly.

You returned the smile meekly. "I think you surpassed whatever idea I had in mind," you confessed.

"Oh, really?" he cocked an eyebrow. "Will I get to see what you wrote?"

You frowned, realizing that you never got around to that part of the subject with him. "Of course, if you want," you blinked.

He giggled. "Am I allowed to read your unedited manuscript?"

"I mean, the sex scenes are only possible because of you. It would be rude of me to gatekeep it from you," you pointed with a flush.

Joshua let out a breathy laugh. "Did I make it to the acknowledgements part?"

"Stop it," you laughed.

"'Special thanks to my neighbor Joshua,'" he muttered in an imitation of your voice, which sounded really far off.

"It's not an acceptance speech," you said with a scoff.

"I better see my name when I get to that part of the book," he warned with a feigned seriousness that was replaced by a small smile.

"Or what?" you quipped. "When the book is out you won't be able to punish me," you smiled confidently.

"I can do that now," he shrugged. "And tomorrow."

You rolled your eyes, unsatisfied with his answer. You half expected him to tell you that he wanted to keep going with whatever this was.

"I haven't gotten to write the acknowledgements part," you told him, trying to move the conversation. "First the manu needs to go under revision again, then if there's anything that needs to get sorted in editing and then..."

Joshua had his eyes fixated on your face, he was looking at you but his mind seemed entirely elsewhere.

"What?" you blurted.

"Nothing I was just..." he shook his head. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"You weren't paying attention," you scolded with a whine.

He easily captured the hand you used to try and slap his shoulder. "Sorry, sorry," he chuckled.

"Am I boring you, Joshua?" you asked, trying to sound offended but when his high pitched giggle wasn't helping.

"No, you're not—stop it," he captured your hand again.

You ceased your futile attacks. "What were you thinking about?"

He was still lying on his side, head propped up in his hand by the help of his elbow. You saw his face relax and lose his smile.

"Last night, when we were in the shower, you said that you didn't care enough about your exes to stay for aftercare," his eyes studied your face for any reaction. "Can I ask why?"

You were taken aback by his question, why was he thinking of that moment precisely? But you saw why he would be intrigued by your comment.

"It wasn't that serious," you shrugged. "I never saw it as something I needed from my ex partners, nor something I even wanted."

He smiled with a small cough. "And what makes me different? Why do you want me to stay every time?"

Your heart clenched tightly. "Why do you ask?"

"You got angry at me because I left this morning," he explained. "What you're telling me now doesn't add up with your hissy fit from earlier."

"I did not have a hissy fit!" you sulked with a pout.

He smiled sweetly at you. "Yes you did, princess."

You rolled your eyes but decided not to argue any further, although you knew that he partly was right, though he didn't know what took you to react to such extremes. 

"Answer me," he urged, his voice low but not commanding. Almost as though he was more impatient to know.

"I like being with you, Joshua," you replied with an obvious tone. "You're not entirely unbearable to be around."

Joshua laughed, his smile pushing his eyes into two crescent moons. "Ditto," he replied.

The jab in your heart was like nothing you had ever felt before. It pushed you to suspect that maybe you were going crazy, that maybe you had a disease that you didn't know about and that only presented itself every time you saw him. It robbed you of the air in your lungs, made you crave something that only you could get from him.

How can you ever tell him that? That was never part of your original deal with him. It wasn't fair—he said it himself, he felt used by you. Although he wasn't complaining, how can you tell him that you were falling in love? It just didn't feel fair.

"What happened here?" you asked, tracing a line along his hip bones, where he had two faint brown bruises.

"You have them too," he muttered, placing his hand on your glute lightly. "They're from last night."

"Oh," you flushed, twisting to see where his hand was pointing to, where you could notice a small bruise on your glute. "I didn't notice that. Sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he sighed with a smile.

"I kind of like it," you confessed sheepishly.

"I know," he nodded to your chest covered in hickeys, he used his pointer finger and caressed ever so slightly over your marked skin connecting lines between each hickey.

You let out a weak laugh that slowly grew louder when the tip of his finger reached close to the side of one of your breasts, closing in toward your armpit and your instinct threw you back from his touch, cringing away with laughter.

Joshua responded to your laugh with his own, but instead of leaving it to rest he reached out toward you with his hand, threatening with more tickles.

"Stop," you pleaded, laughing only from seeing his hand closing in toward you.

"I'm not even touching you," he replied with an adorable chuckle.

You slapped his hand away but that only made him laugh harder.

"Please," you whispered, gasping for air as his finger made it to your collarbones again.

"Okay, okay," he replied and sighed heavily with a smile still on his face.

The brief exchange had left your body tingling, and rapidly growing hot. Joshua was looking at you expectantly, almost as if he could hear your thoughts.

Your hand slid to his nape at the same moment he leaned closer in the bed to kiss you fervently. His tongue sliding on your mouth to find yours with a low groan.

The kiss was ardent in passion, almost as if his lips were locking yours with the need to melt into them. It almost hurt you to wonder that he probably meant what he said before: he would miss this.

He placed a hand flatly on your hip, your body responded by tingling in excitement when his thumb caressed your skin lightly as he kissed you hungrily.

"Joshua?" you mumbled when you broke the kiss suddenly.

"Mm?" he hummed with a gentle nuzzle of the tip of his nose on yours.

"I don't want this to stop," you blurted, pulling back on your pillows to search his eyes.

You held your breath. All your anxieties from the days of avoiding Joshua lied in that question. Even though you knew you weren't helping your bad case of infatuation with him, you were willing—but probably shouldn't—take what you could from what he gave you.

"We don't have to stop," he replied, locking his lips with yours briefly. "I don't want to either."

You kissed him fervently, trying to express all your emotions into one kiss, which he responded with a low moan in your mouth. So infatuated that you didn't stop and think what this would mean to you—if Joshua didn't reciprocate your feelings you'd be in a messy, ugly situation. All products of your own making.

This is, obviously, only possible if you let him know the way you really feel about him.

Oh well, you might as well make sure he doesn't know it yet.

✮ a/n: heyyoooo. thank you to everyone that interacted with part 1 and 2! tysm i really appreciate ya'll. i apologise if there's any dumb mistakes, i've tried to proofread this but i'm just so excited for you to read it

if you liked this part pls pls pls let me know i'd appreciate a like, a comment, rb it ◕⩊◕

part 4!!

also join my taglist!

[rocorambles]

Perks of the Job

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Non-Con/Rape, Bullying, Coercion, Abuse/Violence, Sexual Assault, Degradation

Prompt: “I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now.”

Summary: You realize far too late that you should have read the fine print of your job contract, questioned the golden egg that had fallen in your lap a little more as you stand face to face with the man you thought you had left far behind in your life. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Sunday, December 6th!) 

Big thank you to @sawamooora for beta-reading this~  

Even by his first year of high school, Oikawa is used to the attention, used to girls smiling and giggling at just a well practiced wink he sends their way. And although no one catches his interest, he thrives on the power he feels, the way he knows he has people so easily wrapped around his fingers with just a few rehearsed lines and a dash of his natural charm. So he’s surprised when he first encounters you. 

Unlike everyone else, you don’t even pause as you pass him in the hallway, don’t even bother to turn for a quick look in his direction.  Unlike like every other female, you keep your face focused forward and continue to class, completely tuning out the gaggle of giggling girls he has surrounding him. And suddenly his interest is peaked as he watches your retreating figure, a sharp gleam in his eyes and a new conquest in sight. 

He uses every trick in the book at first, shooting coy smiles and flirtatious winks your way, cheerfully greeting you each morning at the front gates and walking you right to the doorway of your classroom, sometimes lingering around to exchange small talk if there was time before class started. You’re polite about it, although a bit hesitant, unsure what about you has caught his interest, uncomfortable with the glowering attention you’re receiving from the females around you, but he grits his teeth in frustration when you never reciprocate with anything more than a small smile and superficial words. 

There’s only so long that one can keep a facade, even if it is almost like a second skin and bit by bit, Oikawa’s sheep-like fleece weathers down until snarling fangs and bared teeth are all that remains. You wince as he sharply tugs at your hair, glare as he purposefully knocks the items off your desk onto the floor, and lash out at him to his amusement when he repeatedly closes your locker on you. And although there’s bitterness inside of him that he’s had to resort to such uncouth methods, he can’t help the self satisfied smile when he has all your attention, when your rage filled eyes are locked on him and him alone, when you’re spitting venomous snarls just for him to hear. 

So, he’s quite displeased when third year comes around and suddenly it’s like everyone’s biological clock has suddenly started to rapidly tick. Things are different now that they’ve officially entered adulthood. 

His fangirls are touchier, more clingy, and although he rolls his eyes as they purposefully hike up their skirt and press their bodies against him when they talk, he doesn’t pull away. It wouldn’t be good for his image. And besides, being an adult means having fun doesn’t it? 

So, to the dismay of Iwaizumi and the hoots and hollers of Hanamaki and Matsukawa, he has his fun, sneaking girl after girl into the locker room, the club room, even the equipment room. 

But what infuriates him the most is the way seemingly every male suddenly has their eyes on you, the way your locker is filled to the brim on a daily basis with love notes, the way you’re now always surrounded by a flock of groveling boys all clamoring for your attention, the way he can’t even get close enough to do anything to you anymore, the way you seem to forget he even exists.

And that’s unacceptable. 

He sends his fangirls to do his bidding and although it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s not the one personally wreaking havoc in your life, when he doesn’t get to see the look of pain and anger in your eyes up close and personal, there’s still a sense of contentment when he sees your tear stained eyes and ruined uniform from afar, the way you seem to shrink in on yourself in shame and embarrassment when you come out of the women’s locker room, the restroom, places only other female students can get to you, where there are no other eyes to protect you. 

But his nails dig into his palms as his fists clench when he sees his fellow male classmates bending over backwards to comfort you, to help you, draping their uniform jackets over your shoulders to hide your disheveled uniform, cooing at your injuries as they gently lead you to the nurse’s office.

And if there’s anything Oikawa hates in the world, it’s losing.

He slams his fist in frustration as he feels you slipping further and further away from him, as he loses against Ushijima, as he loses against Kageyama, as he loses any chance of seeing his dreams of Nationals come true, as he loses in everything that ever mattered to him.

Maybe that’s why he drinks far more than he should at the third year house party, an early graduation party of sorts, a last hurrah before all of you go your separate ways. Maybe that’s why when he sees you, his eyes narrow in determination as he chugs the rest of his drink, despite Iwaizumi’s growl at him to slow down his intake. Maybe that’s why he seeks you out like a bloodhound looking for prey that it’s caught wind of. 

And all he can think of as he corners you in an abandoned section of the house, forcing your body against the wall, feeling you helplessly push against him, watching fear and confusion fill your eyes, is that he needs a win - just one win. 

But of course life has different plans for him and just as he’s shoved his legs between your thighs, just as one of his hands has slipped underneath your shirt to roughly knead one of your breasts, just as he’s crushed his lips against yours in something far too brutal to be considered a kiss, he’s being torn away from you. It’s only Iwaizumi’s familiar voice and face that keeps the ace from getting punched in the face as he snarls at Oikawa to get the fuck away from you and sober up. And all Oikawa sees is red when he briefly glances back once more before turning the corner, only to see his own best friend kindly hovering next to you, gently taking care of you and fixing your clothes for you, an uncharacteristic softness in green eyes as he looks at you. 

Betrayal like he’s never felt before suffocates him as he watches the two of you tentatively begin to dance around each other in an awkward yet endearing courtship. He watches as he loses his best friend, watches as he loses the only woman who’s ever caught his interest, watches as the two of you walk off into your fairytale sunset together, hand in hand, never even glancing back at him as you both go off on your merry way together. 

He’s not proud of the cruel smile that naturally stretches across his face when he hears that the two of you have broken up years later, a brief comment that Hanamaki slips into one of their happy hour catch-ups as the ex-Seijoh third years share a bottle (maybe a few bottles) of sake. But he fakes a look of concern and consolement, trying to conceal his curiosity as he lightly questions Iwaizumi about the break-up, airily asking what the reason was. 

And he secretly grins as he excuses himself to the restroom when he thinks about the depressed slump of the ex-ace’s shoulders, the downcast look on his face. He cherishes his dear friend, but it’s nice to see someone suffer the same way he had, to share the pain of loss, to share the agony of losing you specifically.  

But maybe lost things are meant to be found, he thinks, as he scans the resume handed to him when he enters his office the next morning, chocolate brown eyes gleaming when they see the familiar name neatly typed on the top of the page.  

You're desperate. 

After Iwaizumi and you had broken up, you had insisted on moving out and living on your own. Never mind the fact that Iwaizumi was paying for the majority of your old rent. Never mind the fact that you don't make nearly enough income to survive on your own. You had just wanted a clean break from the handsome man who had been such a large integral part of your life and despite the small part of you that pleaded to give this relationship another chance, to take him up on his offer to stay with him until you're in a better place to support yourself, you packed your bags and left. 

And now here you are, living in an awful part of town, sirens blaring every few minutes, struggling to pay rent for the old decrepit studio that's barely big enough to fit even just your modestly sized bed. But you determinedly make do, putting on your one nice interview outfit and applying your makeup as best as you can despite the cracked bathroom mirror and flickering lights, before taking a deep breath and exiting your apartment. 

You're not even sure how you landed an interview at such a prestigious company. Although being a secretary for one of their higher ups doesn't exactly sound like your dream job, when you saw what the salary range was, you leapt at the opportunity. Screw your pride. If faking a smile and acting like a glorified maid for a disgusting old man meant you were finally able to   afford a decent quality life? So be it. 

Nerves eat at you and your heart pounds as you anxiously wait for the interview to begin, but you're shocked when an employee steps inside the room only to distractedly ask you generic questions, questions you're sure just about anyone could answer, not even pretending to pay attention as he fiddles with his phone in front of you. You can’t help but wonder if this is a good or bad sign. Were you so unqualified that you were just a waste of time? Why even bother bringing you in for an interview if they had intended to turn you away right from the start?

But to your surprise when the quick and simple questioning is done, the interviewer just stands up with a smile and nonchalantly tells you that they'd be in touch soon. And true to his words, your cell phone rings not even a few hours later that same day and you gape as they extend an offer to you with a salary even higher than you had ever imagined, which you eagerly accept, not a trace of doubt or hesitation in your mind. 

You meekly follow the friendly receptionist who leads you through the intimidatingly large office, the smell of coffee and the sounds of keyboards clacking and voices chattering swirling around you as you’re led further and further until you’re finally facing a solitary office, far from the bustling crowd of the main floor, reeking of status and power. And you force a tight smile on your face as you’re left alone, taking a deep breath before timidly knocking and opening the door when a voice beckons you in. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you and if you were jittery before at the prospect of a new job and a new boss, then you’re positively shaking now, trembling like a leaf in the wind when you see a face you hoped you would never see ever again, a face that still haunts you to this day, that brings back painful memories of a tormented childhood. And you wonder if you should quit right here, right now, cursing yourself for not asking more questions about exactly who your employer was, who you’d be working side by side with as their executive assistant. 

You’re so lost in your panicked thoughts that you don’t register the tall figure approaching you, head whipping when your name is called in that lilted sing song voice of his and you shudder as familiar brown eyes gaze down at you. 

“Oikawa…”

He smiles at your shivering figure and your frenzied wide eyes when you register exactly who you’re now working for. Pride soaring in his chest when he sees the impact he still has, the effect he still has on you, even after all these years. And he can’t help but circle around your frozen figure, admiring how you’ve grown and matured since he’d last seen you, purring at the way you instinctively lower your head in unconscious submission, not daring to meet his eyes as he closes his office door, flinching at the sound of the lock clicking in place. 

It just wouldn’t do for anyone to interrupt such a special reunion.  

You’re so predictable, it’s almost laughable. Oikawa has to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he leans back against the closed door, blocking your one escape route out of this hell hole you’ve gotten yourself trapped in. It’s amusing listening to you stutter out some feeble attempt at a resignation, listening to you try to convince yourself and him that this must be a mistake, that surely you’re someone else’s secretary, not his, never his. And as cute as it is watching denial and pure terror dance across your face, he tires of your endless blathering and he maliciously grins at how quick you are to snap to attention and silence yourself when he barks at you to shut up. 

But what he isn’t expecting is the sudden fire in your eyes, the resolved steeliness in your demeanor as you glare at him head on and maybe it’s a good thing that you’d spent so much time with Iwaizumi because this is going to be so much more fun than he could have possibly imagined. 

The wolf inside of him gnashes his teeth and howls in amusement as you furiously give him a piece of your mind, rebuke him for how horrible and awful he was throughout highschool, haughtily tell him that this is the real world now and that you’re not going to let him just walk all over you, let him do whatever he wants. In fact, you’re leaving right now. You don’t need him or this stupid job. 

And his grin sharpens as you hold your head up high while you make your way towards him and the door, not even hesitating as you move to shove him aside. But then he pounces and you can’t even scream as you’re suddenly shoved down, gasping as you painfully hit the ground. 

He has to give you some credit though. Clearly dating an athletic trainer has done you some good and he winces just a bit as you thrust your knee into his abdomen, surprised by the force behind it. But the pain only fuels him more, the sharp pang grounding him, helping him concentrate as he pries apart your legs, his knees achingly pressing down into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs as he puts all his weight on top of you, chuckling when you wail at how his kneecaps painfully pin you down. 

And he almost coos proudly at you as you try to sit up, as you try to support your upper body off the ground with your forearms and hands, as you try to find some leverage to get yourself out of your undesirable position. But all it takes is him digging his knee even further into your bruised leg and with a yelp you fall back down, snarling at him with pretty tears welling in the corner of your eyes as he leans forward, pinning you fully with his arms now trapping your wrists on the floor on either side of your head.

“Don’t be like this, cutie. You’re the one who accepted the job. Not my fault you were too dumb to even look into it carefully. But I guess a dumb bitch is always a dumb bitch.”

He smirks at the way his cruel words have you twisting and writhing underneath him with renewed fervor, but like an animal sensing that it’s nearing its end, you surprise him with a last vehement action as you spit in his face when your futile struggle falls flat. And as the thick glob slides down his face, his facade cracks and a sharp cracking sound pierces through the air before you’re suddenly seeing stars as heat rushes through your face from the impact of his palm. 

“Listen to me. You’re going to shut the fuck up and behave. You’re going to stay as my secretary. You’re going to do every fucking thing I tell you to do. You know why? Because I own you. I  could ruin your entire life with a single phone call - with the snap of my fingers. Your entire career, over, with just a single email. Good luck trying to afford even your shitty little apartment when you’re blacklisted from every corporation in this city.”

Oikawa hums in satisfaction when you finally still, fear and uncertainty twirling in your eyes as your bottom lip begins to tremble, liquid pooling in your tear ducts as you shakily stare at him. But he outright laughs in your face when you latch onto your one last hope. 

“Hajime! I’ll tell Haji-”

You break off into a squeal when sharp teeth bury into the crook of your neck, tears streaming down your face as Oikawa leaves a mark that will last for at least a few days and you cringe at the feeling of his warm wet tongue tasting you, staining you. 

“Iwa-chan? I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now. Would he trust his longtime childhood friend, his best friend who he still talks to and hangs out with almost everyday, especially now that you’ve left him all alone? Or would he trust the woman who broke his heart, who led him on for so many years, only to tell him you just “weren’t feeling it” anymore when he was about to propose?” 

He lets out a derisive snort at the hurt in your eyes, the guilt he can practically see smothering you at his words. 

“It’s okay, cutie. Of course you weren’t feeling it with Iwa-chan. You were just waiting for me all this time, right? So don’t worry. Relax. Let me make you feel good and make up for all the lost time, okay?”

And he beams when you don’t even resist in the slightest as he removes your clothing, as he hungrily explores every inch of you, calloused fingertips, lips, teeth, and tongue tracing every bit of you, tasting and feeling everything that’s been out of reach for so long. 

A victorious grin spreads across his face at the slight moan you try to quickly muffle as he drags a wet trail to your nipples, tongue lightly flicking the hardening bud before his lips swoop in and harshly suck. He groans as your hips instinctively buck when his hand begins to toy with your other nipple and he grinds his straining cock against you. 

But he lets out an irritated tsk as your hands feebly push at him, as your quivering voice begs him to stop, quickly silencing you with a rough twist of the nipple between his fingers and a feral warning look as he slides down his pants and boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring out. 

And he briefly relishes the way your watery eyes are suddenly captivated by the sight of his impressive length. A sick sense of pride bubbles in his chest at the way you nervously gulp when he lines himself up with your entrance. You barely even have time to blink before he’s brutally slamming himself to the hilt inside of you with one rough thrust. 

He hisses at how tight and warm you are, grits his teeth at the feeling of your nails clawing at his back and arms as he slams himself even deeper. Your pathetic cries make him even harder as you desperately scramble to accommodate his size. 

He drowns himself in the intoxicating feeling of your walls clamping down on him, the sound of your strangled voice screaming his name mixing with the clapping sound of skin meeting skin as he pistons in and out of you relentlessly, starting a brutal pace right from the start, ignoring the terror and hurt laced in your screams as he hones in on your sweet voice repeating his name over and over again, hones in on the fact that every ounce of your attention is on him, that he’s all you can think of and feel in the moment and he wishes this moment could last forever. 

But that’s impossible and he can feel his end approaching, his rhythm becoming erratic, his body tensing, and with a few more slams of his hips against yours, he’s spilling deep inside of you, moaning as he makes a mess of your insides, careful not to let even a single drop escape as he pulls out and quickly slips your panties back on you, trapping his essence inside of you. 

You’re still limp on the floor as he stands up, casually stretching his arms above his head with a yawn before tucking himself back into his pants, brushing himself off as he makes his way to his desk. And he hums as he turns on his computer, not even glancing at the pathetic sight you make, sprawled out, naked aside from the pair of panties he had generously helped you with, your face a mess of dried tears and saliva, your hair a tousled mess. 

But you flinch when he finally speaks as you muster the will to slowly dress yourself, the will to ignore the pounding ache and dripping mess between your legs, his carefree tone tearing your self-esteem to shreds as he just continues typing emails all the while. 

“Hurry up and get to work. That’s what you’re getting paid for after all. You can consider what just happened a perk of the job and I’ll be sure to give you a lot of extra bonuses while you’re with me. Looking forward to working together.” 

Bile rises in your throat at his flippant words and the flirtatious wink he sends your way. For a second you hesitate, staring longingly at the locked door. But even with your back turned to him, you can still feel his piercing gaze boring holes into your soul. You know deep down in your gut that his threat isn’t just empty words, that as hard as life is now, it would be complete and utter hell the moment you stepped out of his office without his permission. You know that in the end, you’d be left with no other option than to come crawling back to him, groveling for mercy when your bank account is running on less than empty, when you’re forced out onto the streets. 

So, as humiliating as it is, you limp over to the smaller desk situated in the corner of the office, every step a crushing blow to your self worth and pride, grimacing as you begin to feel something thick and sticky threaten to leak from between your thighs. And you obediently sit, blinking back the tears as you turn on your own company-issued laptop, shifting uncomfortably as your aching body comes in contact with the solid surface of your chair, raising the ringing phone to your ear. 

“This is Oikawa Tooru’s office. How may I help you?” 

[shades-of-stony]

ABO Stony AUs! (Part 2)

As promised, here is part 2! [link to Part 1] I’m not sure if I’m gonna make part 3 but there are still a bit ABO fics left. 

A King For Christmas by iam93percentstardust

Summary: In 1867, Tony Stark flees New York after refusing to marry the alpha his parents chose for him. His money runs out in the small kingdom of Dacia, ruled over by King Steven of the Rogers line. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure how, he ends up accepting the position of nanny to the king’s four children: Harley, Peter, Sarah, and Morgan.

Tony bonds with the children easily but their father is harder to get to know. Steve is still grieving his wife’s death four years earlier. His continued mourning has turned the once bright halls into dark and somber shadows of their former glory. Tony isn’t entirely certain what he can do but he knows that he has to do something or else the whole country, so attuned to their leader, will sink into despair. He begins by reconciling the king with his young children.

Meanwhile, the children have decided that it’s high time their father fall in love again—and Tony is the obvious choice. They concoct elaborate plans to force the two together, hardly realizing that Steve and Tony are falling in love, not through their shenanigans but through the quiet moments they share bonding over the love they have for the children.

What, Like It’s Hard? by JehBeeEh

Summary: Omega Tony Stark has it all, until his alpha boyfriend breaks his heart. In an effort to win him back, he follows the alpha of his dreams to Harvard Law School, where he discovers there might be more to being the first omega at the prestigious school. He also meets another alpha that might just make him forget the one he drove across the country for.

Two-Point Perspective by FestiveFerret for sabrecmc

Dear omega,

Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha #95847872 has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package.

If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter.

Sincerely, National Omega Services

I Love You (From the Bottom to the Top) by RomancebyFaye for Reioka

Summary: Steve and Tony have a great relationship. They may have only been dating for a few months, but the truth is, they had been in love for years before that. Their relationship is only getting better from adding this new intimacy and Steve is very satisfied with how open Tony is in the bedroom. He’s giving and generous, sometimes to a fault, just as he is with everything.

And then Steve comes home early and catches sight of something he wasn’t meant to see. The shock he gets from the sight of watching his alpha ride a toy might not have been meant for him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting.

Now, if he can just figure out how to tell Tony how much he wants what he witnessed without putting his foot in his mouth…

Or Tony offers Steve something in the bedroom and Steve misunderstands the offer.

Until he doesn’t.

A Prime, Divided by avengersasssemble

Summary: Facing his and his infant son's possible death sentence, young prince Tony runs away to the only place where his father would dare not follow: the Northern Territories, known to house the most savage and brutal Alphas--including their bloodthirsty leader, the Prime Alpha. Forced to navigate fatherhood and diplomacy while being unable to speak the Northern language, Tony has to make decisions to save his son, even at his own expense.

Oversight by ShyOwl

Summary: It really wasn’t Steve’s fault that no one knew he was an omega.

I Love You 3000 by NazakiSama166

Summary: After the death of his husband, the only thing Steven Rogers could think of was going on and dying in one of his missions, and Steven was happy to get his wish.... that was until he woke up in a strange universe when people can shift into wolves and men can get pregnant... Oh, and did he mention that Tony was there too and was in love with his younger jackass self? And let's not forget about Peggy...

Life just loves to mess with him...

Dear Enemy by AvengersNewB

Summary: Alpha Steve and omega Tony are SHIELD agents who don't always see eye to eye, but some benefits on the side help them work things out in the most non-traditional way. Steve's jealousy after an unfortunate encounter with Ty Stone, however, makes things complicated.

Love Match by FestiveFerret

Summary: Tony had but one goal for the season: secure a marriage proposal from an alpha with the position and means enough to remove him from his father's house. Love was wholly irrelevant to the matter. 

Stuck in a... by  Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve gets into a serum-enhanced rut. Tony figures that there’d be a long list of people who’d volunteer to help Steve out, but there’s only one person Steve wants.

A Late-Night Snacks, and Other Good Ideas by  Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve's heightened senses means that he always knows when Tony's in heat. One night, he finally does something about it.

citrus and lavender by JehBeeEh  

Summary: Steve laid Tony on his bed as delicately as he could manage. Which was ridiculous because he knew, logically, that Tony was absolutely fine. JARVIS himself had told him. And that’s 100% why he had fought Natasha so hard on Tony not needing to go to medical when they came back, even though he probably could use the check up. Yup. That was definitely the only reason he had insisted on bringing Tony back to the penthouse. No other reason at all. If you keep this up, you just might start believing it, he thought to himself ruefully. Tony wasn’t his. He had made it very clear that he didn’t need some alpha in his life to mess with everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish. Especially not Steve Rogers.

Found Love in a Hopeless Place by crispybacon

Summary: Steve really, really did not want to tag along with his brother to the bar, no matter how many times the jerk nagged him that he needed to get laid. Just because Bucky’s known his Omega since kindergarten, and the pair have loud obnoxious sex in their shared small two bedroom apartment, didn’t mean Steve needed to stick his knot in any Omega that looks his way.

That’s not the kind of Alpha Steve was.

Or, Steve goes to a bar and meets an Omega with a complicated past that changes his life forever.

This is Not a Drill by sabrecmc

Summary: “Can I—can I see him? I mean meet him. Uh…welcome him to the team?” Tony clarified, probably not very well, he knew.

“Well…there’s a bit of an issue with that,” Fury said, and Tony figured this was where Fury got to whatever it was that had really forced his hand and made him call Tony in, knowing how much the man detested having to do so. “You see, well. He was suspended in the ice for nearly seventy years,” Fury began. Tony nodded along, because he could do math.

“I’m sure he has a lot of adjusting to do—“ Tony started.

“Seventy years,” Fury repeated, cutting Tony off and leaning back in his chair and making it rock slightly. “Of no suppressants.”

“Oh,” Tony managed to choke out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Oh.”

Everybody's got a hungry heart. by Perlmutt for ShadowsintheClouds

Summary: Tony Stark has never experienced a true heat due to the suppressants he's taking on a daily basis. Society accepts him as a beta, together with his friends and teammates and the alpha he's secretly in love with. But some things are just too big to be kept hidden forever. An unfortunate turn of events forces Tony to reveal his biggest secret to the world...

Baby, Just Say Yes by betheflame for starksnack

Summary: In a world where Tony's life looks a lot like Taylor Swift's, Steve realizes there always more to omegas than meets the eye.

Apple Pie and Sunshine by betheflame, starksnack

Summary: Even though they've loved each other for years, Steve and Tony have each convinced themselves that their one-night-stand was a fluke. Thing is, it also resulted in Tony getting pregnant and as the birth approaches, perhaps it's time to use their words.

blue since the day we parted by funkyspacegirlfriend

Summary: When he's twenty, the man Tony thinks will be his alpha and mate walks away, leaving Tony with a gift he'll never regret.

The same alpha reappears fifteen years later in the form of SI's new military liaison.

In my Favorite Dreams (I feel your heat) by Corsets_and_Cardigans for wingheads

Summary: Steve is on his morning run in DC when a ghost from his past comes back into his life. And he's not alone. *** “Steve?” Sam’s voice cut through the veil of the past, the crushing weight of memory that stole his breath. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

His staring must have finally alerted another parent, a woman eyeing him warily while tugging on Tony’s sleeve until he turned around. His eyes were just as expressive and wide as they were ten years ago, piercing the cold morning air straight to Steve’s own.

“Tony.”

“Wait. Tony Tony? The Tony? The Tony that Bucky busts your chops over Tony?”

His voice cracked, wrent into pieces at seeing his omega who wasn’t his anymore, body flaring in pain. Years worth of aching denial like a hot fireplace poker to his soul. “Yeah.”

“Okay then, who’s the kid?”

The Couch by Perlmutt

Summary: Steve overstepped a mark, when he accidentally called Tony, his mate, tiny. Because his omega was very self-conscious when it came to his height. So he needed to show him that he thought Tony's perfect just the way he was, if he didn't want to sleep on the couch for the next week. Luckily Steve was the man with a plan...

be the summer in my heart by billyscissors

Summary: After Obadiah betrays the Southern Isles, he offers Omega Prince Anthony Stark as tribute to appease the Warlord of the North

[quietmyfearswith]

thorned flowers ; andy barber x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count —8,528  words

summary — in which andy barber mourns the loss of his family, until he finds another reason to be hopeful for the future.

warnings —SMUT, DARK THEMES, stalking, drugging (like putting some fertility things in their food and drink, oral (female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, andy being sad, SOFT!DARK!ANDY, dubious pregnancy/breeding

pairing — soft!dark!andy barber x fem!florist!reader

a/n — DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!,, this is my entry for @imanuglywombat​‘s “is that even a sex position” challenge. and the certain position was the special breakfast(you can find it liked in the smut part)... anyway here is the second oneshot for my folklore series! next is either a oneshot for the same series or a preference... feedback is appreciated!

tagging — @la-cey​ @pedropcl​ @iloveshawnieboi​

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

As Andy drove closer and closer to the graveyard, he felt the sweat from his hands drop onto the steering wheel — making it even more difficult for him to grip onto the leather. The last time he visited Jacob was when they buried him a few months ago; the pain was too much for him to bear, making it difficult for him to go and visit his deceased son — the son he loved, cared for, and protected. The son whom he once had precious memories with was now gone.

It wasn’t that he had fully grieved his loss, but he was getting there. But he didn’t just lose his son in that fateful accident that happened nine months ago, he had lost — or more accurately, divorced — Laurie when she confessed that she still had doubts about Jacob’s innocence and crashed the car for she couldn’t believe the monster her son had become. Every ounce of self-control was used by Andy the moment he got the chance to speak with his ex-wife in the middle of her hearing; every curse word he knew was thrown at her for her brutal actions that led to his untimely death.

Now as he faces the aftermath of every single thing that has transpired over the past months, he couldn’t help but feel empty. Happiness was something he longed for; he once had it all, but a series of events reversed that situation quickly. He would do anything to once again look forward to going home, knowing that he had a loving wife and joyful child; instead of coming home to his house filled with silence and agony for it serves as a reminder of what he once had.

Well, maybe not what he had — it wasn’t perfect and the ideal picture he always dreamt way back then. A fresh start, he thought silently, a new start with someone who can fulfill my dreams.

Parking in parallel, Andy looked to see if there were oncoming cars before going down to enter the flower shop. The soft bell that hung above let out a small chime as he opened the door, his blue eyes scanning the different floral arrangements that were littered across the store. Roses, lilis, orchids, sunflowers — all of them looked and smelt lovely. It made him smile how pleasing to the eyes every bouquet was, making it difficult for him  to choose what to get.

“Hi! How can I help you?” A voice spoke up which made Andy turn his attention to the girl wearing overalls who just came from the back room. Once he quickly took in her appearance, though her face sweat a bit and her overalls had patches of greens thanks to the plants, he thought she looked adorable and cleared his throat, “I was hoping to buy some flowers.”

Smiling widely, she wiped her forehead with a towel draped on her shoulder as she said, “I’m happy to help,” She stood by the shelves as she pointed through some flowers, “These have just been arranged today. Oh! And these lilacs and peonies just came in today, too.” Andy couldn’t help but chuckle softly upon seeing how cute her excited state was. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the occasion or for whom these flowers are? Just so I could suggest a few things to you,” She turned to him after listing some of the fresh flowers she had.

“It’s for my son, I’m visiting his grave today.” Y/N wanted to smack herself; her shop was located less than ten miles away from the nearest graveyard. His gloomy, silent aura should have been a clue on how he was mourning, she thought. “I’m so sorry to hear that, sir. How an arrangement of lilies and roses?”

Following her as she walked towards the opposite side of the store where a shelf containing an arrangement of lilies and roses were displayed. With a nod, Andy confirmed, “I’ll take that please.” Grabbing the vase, she excused herself to move onto the counter. Placing it on the wooden surface, she went to get a watering can to place some more water for the flowers. Wanting to talk with her more, he decided to initiate a conversation, “Slow day?”

Peering her eyes up as she returned the can, she nodded her head a bit, “We’ve had customers, but there’s no rush, you know?” Mindlessly, he bobbed his head up and down as she continued, “Some are for their wives, some for their mistresses — but don’t tell!” She placed her index finger on her lips to make her point and the lawyer couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore and shook his head at her goofiness.

“And you’re the first to buy then go to the cemetery, usually they don’t come this time of the day,” She gasped upon realizing what she said; as she punched in his total she didn’t have time to analyze what she said, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry about that, sir!”

Eyes widening at her apology, Andy wondered why she was saying sorry for, “What for?” Looking down as she played with the denim material of her outfit she muttered shyly, “Well you know, I didn’t mean to bring you up. Or the whole cemetery thing.”

Catching her drift, he nodded and genuinely smiled as he reassured her that he took no offense, “It’s alright, you didn't mean harm with it, yeah?” She nodded as she changed their topic before she could embarrass herself any further, “Your total comes to $26.25; how would you like to pay?”

“Credit,” He curtly replied as he took out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans; as he was inserting the PIN, he found himself wondering why she suddenly meant all business. Staring at her focused expression which included her lips slightly pursued gave him a faint clue that perhaps she didn't want to embarrass herself any further.

“Here’s your receipt,” She slid the paper across the counter; as she placed her hands on the glass jar to move it closer towards the customer, Andy placed his on top of hers as he too made a move to grab the vase. Surprised with the warmth and spark she felt when their skins grazed against each other, the florist shyly smiled as she moved her hands away from the vase, “Thank you for visiting us, sir.”

“Andy,” He introduced himself as he carried the vase with one arm as the other extended to her direction, offering to shake hands, “And your name is?” She shook her hand as she gave him her name — the lawyer repeating it as he liked how it rolled off his tongue. Disentangling their hands, Y/N fiddled with her hands nervously as the attractive man waved at her one final time as he left the store, not before promising, “Gonna see you real soon, petal.”

Placing the floral arrangement on the front passenger side, Andy couldn’t help but feel giddy with himself as he jogged to the driver’s seat. “Y/N,” He repeated to himself as he began the drive to the cemetery. In their short, yet sweet interaction, he couldn’t help but feel lighter upon meeting her. Could this mean something? He wondered as to why he was feeling this way with her.

Once he found a decent parking spot, he went out of his car with the flowers and walked to where Jake rested. “Hey buddy, how you doing?” Placing the flowers by the stone where his name was engraved, he sat by the grass as Andy looked up in the sky. “I’ve been doing good, I think. Work keeps me busy and I’ve been doing some outdoor exercise as an excuse to get out of the house.”

Picking at the grass as he recalls what has happened the last nine months, “And I think your middle school named something after you. Though I wasn’t paying too close attention to know what it actually was — sorry about that, buddy. But your friend Sarah, she asked for some of your things and clothes. Think she has, or had, a crush on you,” Exhaling deeply as he paused, the lawyer couldn’t help but mourn about the endless possibilities and chances his son would have had if it wasn’t for her.

“Anyway, Laurie has been sending some letters. I don’t if I should read them — part of me wants too, I still want to know if she’s doing well. But there’s this part of me that wants nothing to do with her, because of what she’s done to you, us, and because of what she failed to do,” Hooking his chin on the palm of his hand as he could feel the slight sharpness of his elbow against his thigh, he contemplated a bit, “What do you think I should do, Jake?”

Grass slanted towards the east as sharp gusts of winds prickled Andy’s skin which made him smirk slightly as he looked at the name of his son, “I take that as I need to be the bigger person and reach out to your mother?” When the grass was left unmoving, it was seen as a confirmation that his son did want him to reconnect with her. Nodding to himself, he guaranteed he would do so, “Okay then, Jake. I’ll do so.”

A softer wind brushed and swayed the flowers he bought, making it look even more graceful than it already was — which reminded Andy of the woman he met earlier. “And I met someone earlier, on the way here, actually.” His lips formed into a smile as he thought of how charming and sweet she was as he was being accommodated ; he wondered something out loud, “Do you think I should do uh, what term did you use? Shot your shoot? No, it’s shoot your shot, right?” He scratched the back of his neck as he racked his brain remembering how he’d be teased for finding it difficult to familiarize himself with this decade’s lingo, “Anyway, she just seems so kind and welcoming; and there’s something about her that makes me feel like I could have a second chance at happiness.”

Should his headspace not have been in a remorseful one, he would have found it frightening how it seemed the wind only moved the arrangement of lilies and roses in an almost ludicrous fashion. Whether it was a sign his child had sent him or something his mind was making up, he interpreted it as a sign he should go for it. “Guess I will shoot my shot, Jake.”

Kneeling by the slab of marble, his thumb was rubbing against his son’s full name as Andy sadly smiled, “I love you, buddy. See you soon.” Standing up, he walked away and to his car feeling lighter. Being able to go to his son was progress for the lawyer as he was slowly coming to terms with the events that happened. Reaching out to Laurie was also another way of him acknowledging the past and coming to terms with — and it would probably give him the closure he needed as he ventured on to the future.

The future, he thought, seemed to be brighter right now. And the sole reason why he thought that way was because of someone he had just met. Normally he would be rolling his eyes at the thought of love at first sight; but now things are different since he’s a changed man. Hastily exiting his parked car, he entered through the back door where he discarded his shoes and socks by the doorway. Flipping his laptop open, he opened his browser and searched for the name of the flower shop he visited.

This was far from the usual search engines — like Google or Ecosia — for this allowed him to know every single thing there is to know about what he searched. Usually, he would use this solely for work; and this was the first time he ever used it for his own selfish reason. Not only the reviews, location, and services offered by the flower shop appeared on the screen after a few minutes. The business and clearance permits were shown; but so did the owner's name appear. “Y/F/N,” He read out loud as he highlighted her name and searched again.

Social media accounts, educational background, cell phone number, and her address shown up in an instant. A smile settled on his lips as he took in everything there was to learn about her. Part of him was glad that she didn’t post too much of herself online for he couldn’t see how pretty she was — but he considered it a good thing for it wouldn't attract anymore competition or creeps. Flowers filled her feed and by reading through each and every one of her posts, relief washed over him upon knowing that these were flowers she arranged and were not gifts to her by a beau.

Peeking at her phone records, he noticed how there had been only a few register of incoming and outgoing calls — the fact that her most called number was of a restaurant that delivers had been slightly concerning for him — and digging into her text history, there was no hints that she was in a relationship. As he searched for her address online, it was brought to his attention how she lived not too far from where he was residing, in just twenty minutes he could be over with her. As he closed his laptop it was clear to Andy how perfect Y/N was for him — and that she would be the perfect woman for him to build a family with.

Going to the living room, he grabbed for the letters sent by Laurie. There were a total of four, and until now he hasn’t opened a single one. After reading them he was relieved to find out that she was doing well and that she wasn’t being mistreated by anyone over there. She also has repeatedly apologized for what she has done. Fear and uncertainty were just some of the two overwhelming emotions that affected her decision-making. Sentiments of how she misses their son and long for how they once were.

Grabbing a pen and paper, Andy then wrote his own letter in response;

Laurie,

I apologize for taking too long to reach out to you — it took me a while to come to terms with everything that happened. What you did came as a shock to me. I never knew about how still had your apprehensions about Jacob. I wish you would have talked to me about it, or even to him.  Perhaps by doing so things would have been resolved better.

I won’t lie to you so I will just tell you that I believe it was harsh of you to end Jacob’s life like that. He had so much waiting for him — so much potential and fire within him, and to see it all disappear breaks my heart. After his trial ended, I thought of it as a chance for all of us to have a clean slate — granted it didn’t feel like it — and have the chance to redeem ourselves and build another life for all of us. But I didn’t imagine for it to be this way — us divorced while you’re in jail and our son buried six feet under.

Nevertheless, I won’t dwell on what has been. I will focus on the future. Speaking of, I would like to apologize as well for shoving the divorce papers in you. It might seem like a “heat of the moment” decision; but I think we both saw it coming. Having our marriage and relationship built on a lie, it all would have led to this moment — one way or another. It was neglectful of me to lay it on you when you already had your plate full, but I guess there was just really no perfect timing for it either, no?

The frequency of my letters to you might vary, but rest assured I will write to you as much as I can. I hope that you will find peace and safety despite your current situation. I wouldn’t fully say that I have forgiven you for what you did, but I am on the path of reaching that point.

Take care always, Andy

As he folded up the piece of paper and slid it on an envelope, Andy felt lighter. Somehow there this part of him knew how shitty the content was. But that was what he felt. What he wanted to tell Laurie. Sealing the envelope, he then pasted a stamp on it then stood up to place the letter on his coat jacket; that way he won’t forget to drop it off.

Returning to his work desk, he then looked over the information he had collected. Another thing that the letter made him feel was that he has already made closure with his past; and now he can venture on and look forward to the future. And he sees one with Y/N.

*

Having worked at a flower shop for almost five years, Y/N almost memorized the frequent visitors of the cemetery. She always engaged in polite conversations with them. Another thing is that she noticed a pattern as well. If one visits every week, it was a sign that they have yet to come to terms with the loss of their loved one. Once their visits became less frequent, say with two weeks in between, she took it as a sign that, slowly but surely, they were getting over their grief and sadness. And when the gaps between their visits stretched over a month or so, it showed that they had reached the final stage of grief — acceptance.

That’s why as much as she enjoyed her small talk with the customers — which ranged from their daily activity to workplace gossip — she felt fulfilled for them once their visit became less and less frequent than their initial ones. Besides, there were always new friends that she could make along the way. It just so happens that Andy happens to be one of her potential friends. Having never seen him before and their brief conversation, led her to believe that the death of his son was fairly recent.

“Hey, Y/N,” His warm, deep voice rang through her shop. Fortunately, she was in the front checking the sales so far when he entered. It was exactly seven days after he dropped by her shop on his way to the cemetery — and then her hunch was somewhat confirmed. “Hi, Andy. how are you?”

He carried with him a tray with a couple of drinks — one was his preference for coffee while the other was her favorite kind of drink to start off her day. Placing it on the counter he smiled at her, “Busy day?”  Placing down the clipboard she was holding she rested both her hands on the counter, “It was, yeah. Wedding bouquets, centerpieces for events, any occasion you can possibly think of suddenly needed flowers. Not that I’m complaining! But I'm just thankful I’m gonna be having a break in a few.”

Laughing at her dilemma he then casually brought up, “Well I was in the coffee shop earlier and they gave me a spare drink,” Pushing the cup of her favorite drink to her, he offered it to her, “Do you want it?” Not wanting to seem ungrateful, she brought the cup to her nose, she smelt it and was surprised to find out it smelt like her favored drink. Taking a sip a bit, she smiled after she placed it down, “Thank you so much for it, Andy!”

Hiding a smirk, he simply nodded at her as he took a sip out of his own drink too, “I have two orders of flowers for today. White carnations on a small vase, and yellow orchids on one of those small boxes,” He pointed behind her, where mounted on the wall were some packaging ideas for the flowers. Nodding her head, she pushed the hot beverage aside as she got to work.

A slow, melodious song played in the background; and the lawyer just found it even more adorable with how she hummed along to it. While working on his purchases, she shifted her gaze to look at him. However, she quickly turned away due to the intensity of his stare — no one had ever looked at her with so much interest. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She cleared her throat, as she tried to diffuse the tension. With every move she made while cutting the orchids to fit the wooden box, she could feel his eyes trailing her in an instant, “It certainly is.” Her eyes were focused on trimming up the stems of the carnation, so she missed the way he was looking at her and not on the flowers.

Placing the trimmed up carnations on the vase, she then grabbed for the watering can to fill them up a bit with water. “Here you go, Andy,” She shyly declared as she was done with the yellow orchids and white carnations. Heading over to the  cash register to punch in the items, he spoke, “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

Shaking her head no, “That’ll be $45.17,” She turned the card machine towards him, “No plans tonight. Just gonna be staying in. How about you?” After entering the card details he was asked for, he slid his card on his back pocket as he joked, “Well I’m gonna try and stay in with you then.”

Hearing her giggle made him wonder if she realized how serious he was. He truly wanted to be a part of her life; and she didn’t even know the effect she had on him. Handing him the receipt, Y/N watched closely how Andy only grabbed for the white carnations, “Andy? Are you forgetting these?”

As she held the yellow orchids, he shook his head and smiled warmly, “They’re for you. I’ve read somewhere that they represent friendship.” Taken aback with what he said, she nodded her head and confirmed, “They do, yeah.” A hand then reached over as it caressed her cheek before settling it under her chin, lifting her head a bit to stare at his passionate eyes, “And I hope that this is a start of a beautiful one.”

His thumb tapped her jaw softly before letting go and walking out of the store; it was only then that Y/N managed to let out a breath she didn’t realize was being bottled up inside her. Holding the box with one hand as the other patted the flower’s petal, she spoke to herself, “I really hope that it is the start of one.”

“I’m going out with Y/N tonight, Jake,” Andy told his son as he sat on the grass after placing the wonderful arrangement she made near his name. “Well, it’s not really a date. She wrote down on her schedule app that she’ll go to the grocery store today during her break. So I’ll just casually bump into her there.” It was incredible that with today’s technology he was able to even see what was in her phone. Using it to his advantage, he tried to pattern most of his schedule with hers; and so far this was the first one that lined up.

As his legs crossed, his hands were rubbing against his shin while recalling what the past week looked like for him, “I also finally wrote back to Laurie. The letter I wrote might have been shitty but it’s still been a struggle for me to put into words what I feel.”

Like the last time, a cool breeze of wind prickled his skin even as he wore a gray henley, “You’re right. It was harsh. But I’m hoping that as time goes on, I’ll be more of a friend to her.” He once again found himself staring at the flowers and smiled, “I’m gonna be honest and tell you that I was planning to divorce her either way. It just wasn’t working out anymore, bud.”

Memories of their fights that happened in the garage so Jacob wouldn’t have to see them yelling at each other flashed through his mind. “And somehow I can’t help but think that maybe Y/N would have been the perfect stepmother for you. She’s really nice and sweet. Based on what she listens to, I feel like you two would have gotten along well.” Once again his heart aches at the thought of how his son had his future right in front of him, and yet it was all snatched away from him.

Kneeling down, his fingertips brushed against Jacob’s name, “Anyway, gonna let you know how’d the date go next week. I love you, buddy.” Walking to his car, he felt giddy at the thought of going to the grocery store. He never imagined doing something so mundane would make him feel this way.

Noticing that the Oreos had a two for one deal, she didn’t hesitate to grab two packs. Pushing the grocery cart down, she was proud of herself for not getting every snack she craved for. Stay on budget, she reminded herself mentally, you’re saving for that new laptop, remember? And that explained why she’d always buy what was on sale; brand loyalty be damned!

Checking her list, she now had toiletries, vegetables, a small selection of fruits, meat and fish, as well as her snacks and drinks. She even managed to buy rice that was on sale. As her eyes scanned for pasta, she let out a small huff how the last one was at the very top, pushed at the back. Standing on her tippy toes, she tried to reach for it — but as her nails scratched the container, it only pushed the item further away.

Feeling a warm body press against hers as they reached for the box, she turned around and was shocked to see it was Andy, “Here you go.” Grabbing the item from him, she smiled at him after placing it on her cart. “Thanks, Andy. would have ended up climbing my cart just to reach it.”

That’s dangerous! Can’t have you risking your body when it’s soon to be carrying our child, He scolded her in his mind. But what he really told her was, “Well we can’t have that happening; some are gonna think that you’re a die hard pasta lover.” They both laughed at what he said as they both walked. She noticed how he only had a basket with him that was filled with a few personal hygiene products and a reusable bag.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you shop here before,” She’s shopped at this market in different times and days, and not once has she seen his face before. Already having prepared an answer, he smiled, “Well this is further from my home. But it was on the way back, since I did just come from the cemetery.”

Shaking her head as she cursed herself, she turned to him to express regret, “I’m sorry for that. It seems like I always unknowingly bring that up.” Bopping her nose with his finger he reassured her, “Like you said, unknowingly. You didn’t know that it would somehow lead to that — so don’t sweat yourself about it.”

Bashfully, she just kept her head down as she lined up for the cashier. Andy didn’t follow her directly as he opted for the self-service check out. Still, after he was done paying he waited for her at the end of the lane. When he noticed that she struggled to carry her items, she took two of her bags — leaving her to carry only one.

“Andy! Let me get it, there’s no need for you to do that,” She tried grabbing for her bags as they walked out of the market. Bringing the bags to his side so she wouldn’t reach it, he stuck his tongue out, playfully, “No way! Plus these are too heavy for you. So allow me to be a good citizen and carry it for you okay?”

Deciding that it wasn’t worth her time and energy to fight him, she just nodded and began to silently lead him to her car — but what she didn’t realize was that not only did the lawyer know what kind of car she had, but also where she had parked it. “You know it feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”

What she said had him interested as they both neared her vehicle, “And why is that?” Opening the trunk of her car, she placed the bag she carried before reaching over to him and grabbing the ones he brought, “Well you buy flowers from me — and this morning you even gave me one — and then you carry my things like you’re my servant.”

Oh if you only knew, love, he thought to himself. But he smirked at her as he closed the trunk before placing his own bag then resting his elbow on the car, “Well how about a repayment then?”

“Done! Your next order, or orders, of flowers are on me.” Her quick response had Andy laughing, “I didn’t mean for it that way, petal.” The nickname he used had her stuttering for a bit as her brain felt like it was being transformed into a melted mess. “What’d you mean then?”

“How about we text? You know, we exchange numbers and just get to know each other a little better,” For some reason Andy felt nervous as he proposed the idea. Insecurity lingered on his head as he tried to gently weasel his way in. But it brought him comfort when she smiled and nodded, “I’d love that, Andy!” While she grabbed for her phone that was in the pocket of her leggings.

He already had her number registered in his phone, it was only for formality’s sake that he put in his number on her cellular device so as not to raise any suspicion. “I look forward to chatting with you,” She giggled at the term he used, causing him to raise an eyebrow at her. “I just found it silly how you said chatting. It’s silly, really.”

Placing a hand on his chest as he pretended to be offended, he defended himself, “I may not use today’s terms but I sure am a great person to have a conversation with.” Chuckling, she just bopped his nose before heading to the driver’s seat, “Only one way to find out, yeah?”

Nodding, he winked at her before grabbing his bag and heading on over to his car, “Only one way. See you soon, Y/N. Take care on your drive.” As she entered her car, she unlocked her phone and sent out a text to Andy:

take care as well, Andy! thank you once again for helping me out :D ‘til next time!

Placing her phone on the seat beside her, she turned on the engine and was preparing to leave when she heard her phone chime. Surprised with how quickly responded, she then decided to read the message now:

Can’t imagine this will be the last time I’ll be helping you out. (I’m kidding of course! Unless…)

Shaking her head at his goofiness, she began her journey back to the shop where she decided it would be best to not reply to him right away. They’ve only interacted twice but she couldn’t help but find him attractive. He had this charm in him and the way he carried himself was amazing. It also helped that he was pleasing to the eye and quick-witted. Perhaps this could be more than just a friendship; but Andy had already had an entire plan hatched out in order for that to happen.

*

Andy was having a bad week. He wanted to have gone to visit Y/N on Wednesday since those were the days of when he had previously visited her. Granted, they have been texting throughout the previous week, it still doesn’t compare to seeing her actual face and getting the chance to touch her skin. But having been swamped with work since he was assigned to a massive, imperative case; and now that it was almost being resolved, he thought to unwind and relax. And what better way to do so than spending time with his best girl?

The moment he stepped foot in her floral shop, his sweet, positive attitude he had quickly turned out to be a sour one. “Andy, hi!” Her excited voice made him put on a fake smile, stopping his earlier activity which was piercing daggers through the back of the man’s head she was earlier talking to. Cautiously, he stepped forward to stand behind the till as the man stood off to the side as he held out his hand, “Hey, man. I’m Scott Lang!”

“Scott here just delivered the flowers,” She pointed to the crates of flowers that she has yet to unpack. “Oh? And he’s still here because?” Despite being serious, the two took it as a joke and just laughed it off. Scott even hit his palm against Andy’s muscular bicep as he threw his head back laughing, “Well I was just catching up with Y/N, it’s been awhile since I got assigned to her little shop. And i’ve got a few more deliveries to make, so I’m gonna go ahead.” The relief that the lawyer had when Scott waved goodbye was short lived for he heard him call out to Y/N, “I’ll see you on game night, okay?”

It even pained him when she nodded her head while she placed her elbow on the crate on the counter, “So, Andy, what can I get for you?”

“White chrysanthemums on that white box, please,” Patting down his pants, he shook his head and scowled, “Shoot, I forgot my wallet in the car. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He didn’t even wait for her reply as he was quickly heading out the door. Looking to his right, he noticed Scott’s delivery trunk and how he was reading something off a tablet as he stood with his back leaned against the door to the driver’s seat.

Scott was taken aback with the sudden force on his shoulders, prompting him to look up from the tablet and on the face of the man he just met, “Andy? What?” The bearded man had his hands pressing onto his shoulders, shoving the delivery man even more into the car’s material, “Stay away from, Y/N.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Leave it to Scott to find the current situation he was in hilarious as he chuckled out his response. Andy, however, didn’t find humor in the situation; the intense gaze his eyes trapped Scott in partnered with the firm grip he had on his shoulders made it clear how serious he was. “You heard me,” He spoke after gulping down the tension he was bottling up, “Stay away from Y/N; she’s mine.”

Breaking into a heartfelt smile, Scott cooed, “Did she tell you about her crush on you? Are you finally together? She has been gushing to me and Hope about how nice and handsome you were being.” At his statement, the lawyer released his solid grip on the man; confused at what he said he questioned, “She said that? Who’s Hope?”

Chuckling at his confused state, Scott playfully hit his arm, “Hope’s my wife! She and Y/N are close friends you know? And my daughter, Cassie, absolutely adores Y/N. We try to have her over as often for game night. We’ve only seen her once in the past few weeks, and she talked our ears off about how great you are!”

Andy could feel himself getting all shy and warm with how his girl was crushing on her; Scott shook his own head as recollection of how dreamy his florist friend was at the thought of this man. And to think he was being the same right now! The expression he had on his face also gave him a clue that two weren;t officially an item yet. With a final nod, he hopped into his van, “Next time I see the two of you, you better be a couple already! ‘M sick of this pining and puppy dog looks of love!”

Laughing out, Andy shook his head as he waved off to Scott who was already driving away. To think that I saw him as a threat, he scolded himself as he began walking back to her shop, when all this time he was a big help.

“Hey! You found your wallet?” She inquired upon seeing his smiling face walking right back in her shop; she thought that he looked even more handsome in that state — there was something about him sporting a boyish look despite looking dignified made her undergarments wet. Nodding, he moved to the counter and admired the arrangement she had made, “Wow! These look wonderful, Y/N. How much do I owe you?”

“Just $19.35. So, you finally got a break from your big case huh?” Tapping his credit card on her machine, he nodded as he let out an exaggerated sigh to which she giggled at, “Finally! I think my back’s starting to ache from all those long hours of sitting down!”

Pushing the floral arrangement to him, she decided to tease him, “You sure it’s not your old age catching up to you?” With wide eyes, he feigned offense as he gasped out loud, “I’ll have you know I am extremely handsome and even look young for someone my age!”

“Don’t I know it,” She mumbled lowly, but still wasn’t soft enough for the lawyer to miss. So he asked her with a smirk etched on his face, “What was that, petal?”

Like a deer caught off guard by headlights, she shook her head, “Nothing! I didn’t say no thing.”

“Well that’s a double negative; so it definitely means you said something,” Both his hands grabbed for one of her hands from across the counter as he held it delicately, “What kind of tree can you fit in your hand?”

Unsure where this was going, she asked, “What? What kind?” Bringing her hand up, he placed a gentle kiss on her palm before answering, “A palm tree, of course!”

Snatching her hand from his grip as he said his joke, she laughed as she teasingly chastised him, “You and your dad jokes, Andy! I swear to God!” Loving how flustered she was, he decided to tease her even more, “Does that mean you’ll call me daddy?”

By now she was a stuttering mess, “Ha, very original, Andy.” Bopping her nose, he bid her adieu as he carried out the arrangement out of her store — walking away with a wide smile on his face. Now feeling more relaxed than ever.

Giddily, he placed the flowers by the top right end of Jacob’s grave as he sat down and told his son, “You’ll never believe what I found out today, Jake!”

*

Are you busy tonight?

Andy bit his lip in anticipation as he stared at his phone, waiting for a reply. Considering how it was just 3 in the afternoon, he gave her the benefit of the doubt that she was busy with the flower shop — maybe counting her inventory or checking her sales. His blue eyes lit up when she replied:

well depends on who’s asking :P but after work i have no plans…

Perfect, Andy thought. He had enough of waiting and he’d like to think that his plan was working out well. They’ve been texting each other consistently for the past two weeks and whatever she hasn’t told him yet, he already knew thanks to his research. She also began to open up to him and so has he. The more he got to know her, the more he was assured that she was the right person for him to begin a new chapter of his life with.

Would you want to come over for dinner then?

Y/N’s breath hitched as she read his text; she was in the middle of watering her flowers when that invite dropped onto her like a ton of bricks. Over the past few days that they’ve gone talking, she felt herself getting more and more attached to the older man. In her mind she had doubts about if this was just a simple dinner or a proposal for a date — so she voiced out her uncertainty:

i will if you answer my question… is this a date? or just like a simple dinner??

Andy had to laugh at her question — she must have been confused and understandably so. So he decided to smooth things out:

If you’re fine with it, it’s a date. But if you’re not, it can be just a friendly dinner.. No pressure on anything, petal.

Squealing as she twirled around, Y/N had to compose herself before sending out a text:

well looks like we’ll be having a date later, andy… can’t wait to see you!

Thankful that time cooperated as it went by quickly, Andy looked over the table one more time — he lit up candles to make the scene even more romantic, brought out napkins to make it seem even fancy, and added some of the flowers he had bought from here the previous day.

Hearing the knock on his door, he put up a bright smile as he opened the door and greeted her, “Hello, petal.” He stood at the side and let her in. surprising the two of them, Y/N surged towards him and hugged him; but it was a welcome surprise as he too wrapped his arms around her.  “Missed me too much, hm?”

She could only hit his arm lightly as she shook her head. Sliding her coat off her body, he hung it on his coat hanger and guided her to the dining room. “Smells great in here. Is that,” She trailed off and looked intently where Andy removed the cover of the pot to reveal her favorite meal.

“My favorite!” She gasped out loud excitedly, “Are you a mind reader, Mr. Barber?” She squinted her eyes suspiciously at him. “Well that is exactly what I am, petal! How did you find out?” Though she took it as a joke, Andy knew better that it wasn’t her mind that she read; instead it was her entire online profile that he monitored.

With that, they began dinner that was filled with laughs and chatter. It seems that despite their difference in age, they always found something to talk about. “Wait, so you really hid your cousin’s clothes in the freezer?”

Nodding her head, she drank the last bit of the wine before answering, “She had it coming her way! She told me I had no chance of marrying Harry Potter!’ There was a baseless jealousy forming in the pit of Andy’s stomach, but he reminded himself that it was just her silly, childhood crush.

“Let me help you with that,” She offered once she noticed that Andy was clearing up their plates. Waving her off, he shook his head as he told her, “You’re my guest — more accurately, my date,” At the reminder of that, she looked down on the floor and Andy smirked, “Why don’t you go wipe off the table instead?”

Nodding, she proceeded to do so as a pleasant silence hung over them; Andy loaded the dishwasher as Y/N wiped off the table. Heading to the trash bin, she threw the trash and the paper towels she used —leaving her to stand beside Andy.

“Look at you, like a real housewife,” His comment had her taken aback. She didn’t know why, but part of her was delighted in the idea. “My, Andy, this is just our first date and you’re already thinking of marriage? What’s next? You wanna knock me up with your kid?”

Oh petal, you have no idea, do you? Andy smirked mentally, but his hands circled around her waist as he laid a gentle kiss at her nose, “And if that is my long term plan?” Pursing her lips, she could only tilt her head down; though it might be too soon for what he had said out loud, there was a tiny part of her that wanted that.

Lifting her head up with a hand, he smirked down at her, “I’m guessing you do want that, do you, petal?” She gave a slight nod which only fuelled Andy’s lust as he kissed her feral, leading her to walk backwards onto the dining table. She gasped as she was being lifted up to sit on the mahogany; granting the lawyer access to let his tongue enter her mouth. He groaned upon relishing the sweet taste that was her while his nimble fingers brutally tore the fabric of her shirt, “No bra? Why petal, were you hoping the date would end this way?”

She shook her head but quickly stopped as she let out a moan when she felt his lips and teeth nip at the skin of her breasts. Her hands clawed at his hair as he sucked on the nipple. “God these will fill up with milk,” He groaned out, but it was too indistinct for her hazy brain to fathom.

His lips trailed down to her stomach as he groaned against the flesh of her stomach, “Such a glorious stomach.” Upon feeling the coarse hairs of his beard, she giggled against him which allowed her to miss his husky moan of, “Gonna swell up with my seed.”

“Andy, please,” She moaned when his lips pressed kisses along the hemline of her pants. “Since you asked so politely,” He hastily shoved off her pants and panties in one go as he placed her thighs to rest on his shoulders, lifting her slightly off the table, while she planted her elbows firmly on the table. “Fuck!” The cuss she let out was dragged out caused by Andy furiously licking from her clit to the opening of her pussy. Her thighs trapped his face firmly, the rough texture of his beard contradicted his silky tongue lapping at the inside of her tight cunt.

“Can eat you all damn day, petal,” He caught the juices she was leaking with every flick of his tongue as his left hand rubbed on her hardened nub; while the other hand lowered his sweatpants until he was able to stroke his erect cock. Feeling her walls close in on his tongue, he smirked as he drove his tongue deeper inside her and rubbed her until she mewled out loud, “Fuck, Andy! I’m cumming!”

His beard was splattered all over his lower face, coating his beard. With a few more final licks, he let her legs fall from his shoulders and hang limply by the edge of the table. Standing up from the dining chair, Andy quickly removed his gray shirt as her hands weakly, but successfully, slid his sweatpants off legs. Her hands jerked his length while looking into him with desire, “Gonna fuck me real good, Andy?”

Loving the way she sultrily said it, he kissed her lips roughly as he pushed her by the hips, closer to the edge of the table. His right hand guided his cock to slide right in her, their tangled tongues moaned out loud upon being intimately connected. She tried to rut her hips against him, wanting to feel more of him. “Oh petal, let me do it for you.”

Both his hands settled on her thighs, using them as leverage to match his harsh thrusts as he slid in and out of her tight canal. Her walls gripped onto him tighter every time he slid back in, making him groan against the skin of her neck. The sting of her nails as they raked down on his back only added to his pleasure as it motivated him to plow her harder and faster, until she felt his tip hit her sweet, sensitive spot.

“‘M so close, Andy,” She whined, accentuating her point by digging her nails into his shoulders. Maybe it was the way she was piercing to his skin, or the way was falling apart under him beautifully, or the fact that he felt confident that after this she was going to be carrying their child, but it drove him feral which was evident when the table moved and shook in time with his relentless thrusts.

“Open that fucking cervix for me, petal,” He moaned out as his hand rubbed her swollen clit, “Let me shoot my seed in you.” Perhaps in the proper mindset, she would have viewed it as a red flag — bringing up marriage and having kids at the first date would have freaked her out. But in the heat of the moment, she found herself submissive and compliant with all his desires.

Her hands pushed his back closer to her, making her rub her stiff nipples against his chest as she begged, “Please, Andy. Cum in me.” And just as she moaned out the last word, she could feel her body tense as she clenched on his cock and cum at the thought.

Smirking, he continued his harsh assault on her pussy as pinched her clit to milk out more of her orgasm. Gasping out, she tried to restabilize her breathing — which was a challenge given that Andy was grunting wildly as his thrusts slowed down while the force remained. Feeling his cum fill her up surprised her, but she didn’t protest it.

Carrying her over to his bedroom, Y/N could feel herself getting tired from their activities. She willed herself not to close her eyes, but sleep seemed so enticing. The way Andy rubbed her back and lay her down on the bed gently didn’t help either. The lawyer smiled upon seeing the peaceful expression on her face; he kissed her forehead before reaching over to the nightstand and fish out the plug he bought and cleaned for her.

The plug was snug inside her as he slid his cock out. Laying down beside her, he cuddled her as he stared at her features, “I just know you’re gonna be pregnant, petal,” Her breathing was even and her closed eyes gave him the impression she was now falling asleep, “I checked your period tracker app, you should be ovulating now. Plus, I have been slipping some vitamins in your food and drink to help make you even more fertile.”

Wiggling around, his breath hitched when she nuzzled her face even more to his chest, “Goodnight, Andy,” Plus a kiss to his chest made his heart swell up even more. Smiling despite the joyous tears leaking in his eyes, he kissed her forehead once more before bidding her goodnight as they both slept.

“Here’s to new beginnings, petal.”

[h2bakugou]

Heh bitchhhhh 🥴🥴🥴, can i request a bakugo x reader. The reader has a showstopper quirk were they can make people break out into song and dance and when kidnapped by the league they force them to preform “ive got a dream” from tangled. P.s play bloxburg with me 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

a/n: heyyyy bitchhhh, lmfao yes, thank you for drafting this idea to me in my bedroom, and we can play bloxburg soon. i had so much fun writing this omg, 

the song is from tangled so credit to tangled for most of the dialogue/song!

summary: upon running into the league of villains, you and bakugou decide it’s best to just try and get away instead of staying and fighting, but your quirk is going to affect all in the area.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / showstopper - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, this is a certified crackfic brought to you by my sister’s amazing brain.

wordcount: 1.7k

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It’s a pretty average day, nothing crazy happening. for a grade in class, you’ve been assigned to patrol near campus.

And you were paired with none other than your crush, Bakugou.

The tension between the two of you was palpable, but it was a battle between knowing if Bakugou was aware of your quirk or not. You were worried.

As the tension settled, thickening with every passing second, every breath feeling harder to push out than the last, Bakugou was tired of the silence.

“Oi! Say something.” Bakugou’s harsh voice cut through the silence like a knife. It was unexpected, and it startled you. You looked over at him and cracked a smile.

“Sorry! I’m just thinking, what exactly are we looking for on this patrol?” You ask, deciding it was best to not worry if he knew about your quirk or not, he was in your class, surely he had to know.

“It’s a patrol. We’re not looking for something specific dumbass. We’re looking for anything out of the ordinary.” Bakugou’s words weren’t meant to hurt you, in fact, Bakugou began to think about if what he had said had been to harsh.

He’d been suffocating the feelings of a crush toward you for a while, and this patrol with one another didn’t help. Kirishima nor Kaminari were here to keep him grounded, he was going to be a mess.

A few screams caught your attention. Darting over to the noise, a lady was running away from an alley. Glancing at Bakugou, the two of you rushed in, not expecting what you saw.

The light from an open door illuminated a portion of the alley at the end, the rest shadowed in darkness from the buildings looming above.

Stepping into the lit room, the door was harshly shut and locked behind you, your eyes focusing on none other than the League of Villains.

“Shit.” You cursed, staring at the group of rag-tag villains with dangerous abilities.

“Well isn’t this ironic.” Tomura Shigaraki trotted over, standing oddly, almost hunched over as he scratched at the side of his neck.

“That can’t be healthy.” You whispered, cringing at the unnerving sound of his fingernails scratching against his raw skin.

“Die!-”

“Bakugou wait!” You pulled him back from lunging at the group, taking a step back away from them.

“We gotta stop them! What are you doing?” Bakugou yelled, glaring at you.

“Do you really think we can stop all of them at once? That’s suicide! Think dumbass!” You hit the top of his head lightly with a fist and groaned.

“That’s my line!” Bakugou grunted, looking back at the league. Shigaraki stood up straight and sighed, flexing his hand.

“What ideas do you have?” Bakugou hated asking the question, but he couldn’t use his. He’d cause to much damage, and structural damage to the bottom floor would cause the building to collapse.

“I have one but-”

“Then use it!”

“I can’t! My quirk it’ll-” You knew this was going to happen.

“I’m getting tired of your bickering. Dabi-”

“Use your quirk and stop wasting time!” Bakugou shakes you, gripping your shoulders harshly. It hurt but you activated your quirk and all the lights went out.

A single light shone down and Shigaraki stepped forward. He wasn’t moving on his own accord, and everyone was just watching as you raised your hands, seemingly controlling him like a puppet.

As music began to play, Shigaraki began to sing.

“I’m malicious, mean, and scary. My sneer could curdle dairy. And violence wise, my hands are not the cleanest.” Shigaraki’s eyes were wide, still conscious of everything that was happening, he was unhappy with the events unfolding.

The rest of the league sat immobile as they watched the scene unfold, Dabi trying to hold back a laugh, Kurogiri being ultimately curious, and Toga happy as can be.

“But despite my evil look, and my temper, and my hook, I’ve always yearned to be a concert pianist.” Shigaraki was moved over to where a piano sat, coincidentally still in pretty okay shape. Guess hiding out in yet another bar had its perks.

“Can’tcha see me on the stage performin’ Mozart? Tickilin’ the ivories ‘til they gleam. Yep, I’d rather be called deadly, for my killer show-tune medley, thank you! ‘Cause way down deep inside I’ve got a dream!” Shigaraki’s fingers danced across the keys, always having one on each hand raised as to not decay the entire piano.

It was you controlling him playing, not him at all. Shigaraki had never touched a piano in his life, yet it was very interesting to seemingly be able to play it perfectly.

“He’s got a dream! He’s got a dream!” The rest of the league joined in, singing along with him.

“See I ain’t as cruel and vicious as I seem! Though I do like breaking femurs, you can count me with the dreamers Like everybody else, I’ve got a dream!” Shigaraki ended his verse off with a groovy riff on the keys, the spotlight jumping over to Dabi.

“I’ve got scars, and lumps, and bruises. Plus something here that oozes. And let’s not even mention my complexion.” Dabi stepped forward, his hands pointing out parts on his body.

“But despite my extra toes, and my goiter, and my nose, I really wanna make a love connection.” Dabi’s eyes widened as he sang the words, your fingers wiggling around, controlling his movements.

“Can’t you see me with a special little lady, rowin’ in a rowboat down the stream?” Dabi sat on a stool and mimicked rowing in a boat, continuing his verse.

“Though I’m one disgusting blighter, I’m a lover, not a fighter! ‘Cause way down deep inside I’ve got a dream!” Dabi jumped up form his stool and stood in the middle of the room.

“He’s got a dream!” The league sang.

"I’ve got a dream!” Dabi continued.

“He’s got a dream!”

“And I know one day romance will reign supreme! Though my face leaves people screaming, there’s a child behind it, dreaming. Like everybody else, I’ve got a dream!” Dabi danced his way over to Shigaraki.

“Magne would like to quit and be a florist!”

“Kurogiri does interior design.”

“Twice is into mime, Toga’s cupcakes are sublime!”

“Mr. Compress knits.”

“Giran sews.”

“Muscular does little puppet shows!”

“And Spinner collects ceramic unicorns~!” 

"What about you?” Shigaraki steps toward Bakugou who’s eyes widen in surprise as they quickly dart to you and then back to Shigaraki.

You were controlling everyone, the only downside to your quirk, is everyone in the area is affected. You control those in the room, even Bakugou. You just hoped he wasn’t going to hate you after this.

“I’m sorry me?” Bakugou asks, staring at Shigaraki. Dabi steps forward too.

“What’s your dream?” Dabi asks, pulling him into the center of the room where the spotlight shone.

“No, no no, sorry boys, I don’t sing.” Bakugou replied coolly. You stifled a laugh as he stared at you.

The league glared at him as the music kicked up again.

“I have dreams like you, no really! Just much less, touchy-feely. They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny!” Bakugou began to sing, dancing around the bar.

“On an island that I own, tanned, and rested, and alone, surrounded by enormous piles of money!” Bakugou laid on the bar counter, propped up on his side as he pretended to relax on a beach.

“I’ve got a dream!”

“I’ve got a dream!” The rest of the league joined back in singing, while you pulled Bakugou off the counter, still controlling the others. You had to get out of here while they were still distracted. The song was almost over.

“She’s got a dream, he’s got a dream, they’ve got a dream, we’ve got a dream!” The league sang together.

“So our diff’rences ain’t really that extreme!”

“Call us brutal!” Shigaraki started.

“Sick.” Dabi added.

“Sadistic!” Twice and Toga sang harmoniously.

"And grotesquely optimistic.” Kurogiri sang, his voice was surprisingly really good.

“‘Cause way down deep inside, we’ve got a dream!” The league was singing together again.

You pulled Bakugou out of the bar and helped him down the alley as the two of you ran away, heading back toward the campus to let the heroes know.

“I’ve got a dream!” Shigaraki started again.

“I’ve got a dream!” Dabi was next.

“I’ve got a dream!”

“I’ve got a dream!”

“I’ve got a dream!” Kurogiri, Compress and Twice joined in.

“I’ve got a dream!” Toga smiled as she joined in. She was having a blast.

“Yes, way down deep inside I’ve got a dream!” They all joined in for the last line as the music faded out.

The lights returned to normal and everyone was able to move on their own.

“What the fuck!” Shigaraki cursed, shaking his body out as a chill raced through him.

“That was horrible!” Dabi groaned, staring at Shigaraki.

“I didn’t know you could play the piano!” Toga rushed over to Shigaraki.

“I can’t.” Shigaraki glared at the blonde girl.

“And who knew Kurogiri could sing so well!” Twice laughed.

“Never speak of this to anyone.” Shigaraki groaned, taking a breath from the entire show.

- - -

“Why’d you make me sing?!” Bakugou groaned as he held your hand, pulling you into the main campus building.

“My quirk affects everyone in the area. I didn’t have much of a choice. You had to do something or it would’ve messed up.” You sighed.

“Whatever. I guess it wasn’t so bad.” 

“You have a nice voice.” You compliment him. Bakugou’s cheeks twinge red as he thinks about what you just said.

“It was kind of funny to see them all sing and dance like that huh?” You question, gripping his hand a bit softer, your own face heating up as he runs his thumb across the back of your hand.

“It was something alright. Let’s just get this dealt with. And don’t you dare tell anyone about this!” Bakugou stops, pulling you into him.

“I won’t, I promise!” You smile, looking into his crimson eyes.

“Good.” Bakugou’s eyes flick down to your lips and then back up to your eyes.

He pulls you in for a quick kiss, his lips locking onto yours for a few seconds before pulling away.

“Or that.” He pouts, huffing his cheeks as he returns to walking, leaving you stunned as you slowly catch up, excitement bubbling inside you.

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masterlist

[lyallblacklupin]

Don’t miss the Yule Ball.

Sirius was already battling with their post break-up situation. He hasn’t moved on, but maybe Remus has, after the Incident with Snape. He has been forgiven by all of the Marauders, but he still doesn’t feel like going to the Yule Ball because he loves dancing a little too much, and to watch Remus dancing with someone who isn’t him is something he won’t be able to cope. He rather he will stay in than go and deal with another heartbreak. However, Remus encourages him to go to the Yule Ball. Is he giving Sirius a chance to improve their ties?

Tags: Post-Incident with Severus Snape, Angst with Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Trust Issues. 

Chapter 1

The distress was like a cold molten lava, spreading in Sirius’ chest to deepen the void that was already created inside of him. He could feel it. The hollowness around his heart, but simultaneously there was something heavy. Like a boulder, sitting at the top of his chest. There was exhaustion in his veins, plummeting his blood pressure that made him unlike the person he used to be: steady, hyperactive, and energetic. He didn’t know what he wanted, so he let life go through him. He thought he may never live, might as well survive because he was not ready to die yet. There was still hope. A newly aroused hope of getting his friends back in his life after the two and a half month of shutting out in consequential to the Incident with Severus Snape.

Three days ago, James and Peter had asked Sirius to come in the dorm when he had been sitting in the common room, literally, doing nothing but staring at the fire grates before him. All of the Marauders, including Remus, had gathered in the dorm awkwardly.

“Look, Sirius,” James had been the one to break the silence, and Sirius’ perplexity, “Whatever we have with you is just too real and close that—we cannot just see you being so…”

“Different.” Peter had said.

“Yes, different!” Sirius had never seen James so nervous, “And we know how sorry you are for what you did.” Sirius could distinctly recall that he had flinched at those words.

“So…” Remus had begun, not meeting Sirius’ eyes, “We would like to give you a chance.”

Sirius had expected himself to smile or laugh in happiness that finally his friends had decided to forgive him, but he didn’t—more like, he couldn’t. James and Peter had been staring at him with funny looks on their faces, while Remus had a tired look as if he had been forcefully asked to forgive him. Sirius didn’t even internally blame him for that, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much this all means to me.” Sirius had said. He knew that time was the only key to slip into normalcy, so he went with the flow.

This time of the year, Hogwarts was illuminating with more candles, and stardust in every corridor. The lavatory sections had more irises and lilies, and the Library was filled with color-changing lanterns hanging in the mid-air. All of this was because of the Triwizard Tournament was being held, and the awaited guests from other wizarding schools were welcomed to avail the chance of becoming the lucky participant in the Tournament. The students from Drumstrang, and Beauxbatons were roaming around the decorated Hogwarts.

“They should see the real face of Hogwarts, dull and old-fashioned. Not the flowery one. That’s called deception.” Marlene commented, making everyone snigger around her. She never failed to catch attention.

“That’s called hospitality, Marls. Try to be positive.” Dorcas flung her arm around her to pull her closer so she kissed her cheek. Sirius tried not to look because it painfully reminded him of his rock solid relationship with Remus Lupin, before it crashed brutally after one reckless mistake. He rubbed his eyes because he felt tried. Again. He was tired all the time, but he didn’t like being in bed in odd hours. It made him feel useless.

“So, that means I get to take you as my date for the Yule Ball?” Sirius’ ears stood alerted at Marlene’s muffled voice in the crowd.

Of course, the Yule Ball. He loved going to the balls, and waltzing with the music. If there was anything the Black family had taught and he had loved, were the dancing lessons. He had always imagined holding a certain someone close to him, and waltz with them peacefully. This was his secret. He had never displayed it. After he had realized that he had a crush on Remus, he had always pictured him in his dreams, slowly swaying through the soft music. His hand holding Remus’ while his other one on his waist, leading him. He had never enjoyed dancing with girls. They were too small and delicate to hold, except Marlene who was tall and broad.

The night befell, and everyone filed to their dormitories from the Great Hall after the dinner. Sirius was quietly walking with the Marauders, highly tensed because he was in pace with Remus who hadn’t utter a single word to him since the forgiveness. James was loudly speaking as usual, his arm around Peter’s shoulder, while craning his neck in every angle to find a certain fiery red head in the flood of students.

“Evans! You and me to the Yule Ball, how does that sounds?” He called out once he had spotted her.

“Nauseating.” She replied, causing an eruption of laughter from the sea of student around them.

“Oh come on! You won’t regret!” He continued his show of stupidity but suddenly Sirius’ hand brushed the neighboring one, accidently. He and Remus responded at the same time by flinching away their hands.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

Remus was scarlet in the face, and Sirius felt liked he had touched something electric. He could still feel the burning on his fingers. They walked in their respectful distance, and Sirius started to feel the same process of hollowness in his chest. He was sad. Very sad. They were never supposed to be like this. He missed Remus, but it all seemed like he had lost him forever. Remus had forgiven him, but not by his heart. And it was nothing but heart-breaking. Sirius felt a strong surge of emotion as if he was going to have breakdown in the middle of the staircase. He held the railing of the stairs, widening the distance between him and Remus. Sirius stopped there to breathe out, hoping his friends wouldn’t notice. However, his friends were nor heedless neither heartless. Specifically, Remus wasn’t.

“Sirius? Are you okay?” Remus retreated from the crowd to stand beside him. Sirius felt heated up, and not because he had any rage reserved in the corners of his heart or mind.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He tried to act nonchalant, “You go ahead. I just need a break from the walking.”

“No, it is okay, I’ll stay with you until you are good to go.” Remus’ voice was very soft, and Sirius wished that he never leave him, even as a friend. Remus was too precious to lose. Sirius stayed silent. He kept breathing in and out, until his heartbeat became normal. Suddenly, he realized that the staircase was changing with a thud, signifying that all of the students were vanished and gone to their dorms, leaving Remus and Sirius alone.

“How are you feeling?” Remus’ wide amber eyes looked into the dull grey ones, probably for the first time in a longest while. Sirius smiled at the question. How was he feeling? He was feeling sad, useless, pathetic, sick, disappointed, and hopeless and so much that wasn’t easy to name or comprehend.

“I’m feeling better now.” He answered instead.

“Well, looks like it going to be a long detour since the staircase is leading to the third floor. Four floors away.” Remus’ mouth quirked up in an uneasy smile. Sirius smiled back at him as they both began to climb the stairs.

There was silence hanging between them. Surprisingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable to Sirius because he had nothing to say which made his mind a little less chaotic. He had tried saying everything to Remus; the fact how much he regretted his mistake, how much sorry he felt, how much he valued his relationship with Remus, how much unconditionally he was in love with him. All explanations had gone into vain. He decided he had nothing to say.

“Here,” Sirius looked to his side to see that Remus was offering him a goblet of water.

“What is that?” He asked.

“Just water. You need it.” Sirius wanted to slap himself. Of course, he knew it was water, then why asked?

“Thanks.” He took the goblet from his hand. His finger brushed with his that sent tingling feelings to his body.

“So, what are you planning for day after tomorrow?” Remus asked sheepishly, smiling half-heartedly, trying to make a conversation.

“What is on day after tomorrow?”

There is sudden pause, and Sirius had to look at Remus who seemed slightly taken aback.

“I thought you knew,” He mumbled under his breath, “I meant—the Ball. The Yule Ball. Are you going?”

An ugly feeling suddenly jabbed him in the stomach.

“Oh—that. I forgot, to be honest.”

Remus chuckled awkwardly.

“But—umm…” Sirius hesitated, “No, I don’t think I’ll be going.”

“Oh.” Remus became silent then.

They were now on the fifth floor corridor, chasing the giant staircase to lead them to the seventh floor.

“Any particular reason?” Remus piped up, and Sirius felt his lung was lacking air.

“I don’t like dancing.” He lied. And SHIT! He lied to the wrong person. Remus stared at him for a little longer as if he was scanning him.

“You don’t like dancing.” Remus said than asked.

“I don’t like dancing.” Sirius repeated, hoping that saying it again and again would become a truth.

“You don’t like dancing.” Remus repeated too, under his breath but Sirius had heard him. He knew that Remus had spotted the lie, and now Sirius Black was surely labelled as a liar.

“What about you?” Sirius asked to erase the discomfort in the air. They were still chasing the staircase.

“Yeah, I think I will.” Remus replied. Sirius nodded, repressing his sad loneliness, but Remus continued, “I think you should go too. The ball is just not about dancing. You don’t have to dance, just have some fun.”

Sirius smiled at him because Remus’ voice is cheerful and encouraging. Maybe he could go. Maybe this was the chance to heal things in their relationship. Maybe Remus was giving him.

He kept thinking, quietly until they were on the seventh floor. The portrait of Gryffindor Tower was before them.

“Just think about it, you know,” Remus said gently, “Banana Fritters.”

The portrait door opened, and the common room was empty. They climbed to the dormitory when Remus slowed his pace to stop before the door.

“After everything, all of us deserve some fun,” Remus spoke tenderly again, his eyes softening and a hint of smile on his lips. Sirius returned the smile, but it was painful. He couldn’t get a word out of him. They stood there facing each other before Remus came close, and gathered him in his embrace.

Sirius felt like he became numb, all of a sudden. He was there, under Remus’ arms. Wide-eyed, his body paralyzed, and his blood racing abnormally. Trying to process how, where, why and what just happened.

Suddenly, hot tears obscured his vision before they began streaming endlessly. Sirius didn’t remember if he brought his hands up to hug him back but he was able to feel Remus tightening his embrace. He sobbed into his shoulder, and Remus let him. That was enough. It had never felt so comforting.

Chapter 2

[malghra]

tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks (1/3)

Darklina Week, Day 7: Soulmates

AO3 link

Soulmates aren’t the ones who make you happiest, no. They’re instead the ones who make you feel the most. Burning edges and scars and stars. Old pangs, captivation, and beauty. Strain and shadows and worry and yearning. Sweetness and madness and dreamlike surrender. They hurl you into the abyss. They taste like hope. ― Victoria Erickson

"I thought I had raised you to be smarter than this," she told him. "It does not do to fill your head with dreams and fairytales, boy. Love is a weakness the likes of us cannot afford."

Ana Kuya's knitting needles stopped clicking and she laughed softly, shaking her head. "It was just a story, Alinochka. Now, go to sleep." 

.

Aleksander believes his name was Anton, when he first heard about soulmates, or perhaps it had been Leonid, or Vasya. The names and cover stories have all blurred together into an endless succession of lies, he barely recalls them. He does remember the names from the story. Galina and her Igor.

His mother had been serving at some fat nobleman's estate at the time, and Aleksander had snuck out of his room to find a mirror in one of the many chambers in the main house and search his body for a mark. Because of what they were, he had never belonged anywhere, had never known a place he could call home, and probably never would, but belonging to another person sounded almost as good as having a home.

His mother had been the one to find him. He feared she would be cross with him for sneaking into the house, but she only sighed and shook her head. 

"I thought I had raised you to be smarter than this," she told him. "It does not do to fill your head with dreams and fairytales, boy. Love is a weakness the likes of us cannot afford."

Ana Kuya didn't use to tell many stories, and when she did, there was usually some lesson or warning in her tale. But when Alina was seven, Ana Kuya told the orphans at Keramzin a story that had her listening with bated breath.

Alina had always been prone to daydreaming, and over the next few weeks, she often caught herself thinking about Igor and his Galina, while she was doing her chores or picking flowers in the meadows beyond the walls of the estate. Alina had always been alone. She could barely remember anything from before. Someone to belong with, just one person to call her own in this world, it was everything she had ever wanted. 

Alina couldn't wait until she would meet her soulmate and leave the orphanage.

"When will I get my soulmark?" A fever-plagued Alina asked Ana Kuya one night, when the older woman had decided to stay by her bedside to watch her.

Ana Kuya's knitting needles stopped clicking and she laughed softly, shaking her head. "It was just a story, Alinochka. Now, go to sleep."

"I wish we could stay here forever" Luda sighed as she put her head on Aleksander's chest. She looked softer like this, and this fierce woman's tenderness almost surprised him.

"Perhaps we should." Perhaps they��should forget about everyone and everything out there, stay in this hut, where it was just them, and kings and allegiances and wars didn't matter. He didn't know if he loved Luda, but he thought he could, and perhaps this would be the only way they could defy the rest of the world.

He'd searched his body earlier, in the light of the candles. No mark had appeared on his skin since he'd met Luda. He wasn't sure he had been expecting to find one, whether he even wanted to find one, but he had still felt disappointed.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" he asked her.

She twisted her neck, bracing herself on her elbow to look at his face. "Why, would you like to see your name on my ass, Aleksander?" she drawled at him with a smirk. The sound of his name on her lips stirred things in him. His mother would call him a fool who never learned if she heard it. 

"What? No," he muttered. "I meant..."

She giggled, nuzzling at his chest before meeting his gaze again, arching an eyebrow.

"You don't have a soulmark," he observed.

"You had yourself a good look then, did you?"

"I had more than just a look," he reminded her, grabbing her by the waist to pull her on top of him. 

"No," she told him as she inclined her head to kiss him. "I don't have a soulmark."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"No, Aleksander" she moaned as she rubbed herself on his hardening length. "It doesn't. I won’t let the saints decide my fate. I make my own choices."

He groaned even as her words brought a smile to his face. She was right. He decided in that moment that he did love her, even if he shouldn’t, and apparently that was all his own doing, not some mysterious plan made up by the saints.

Alina was used to having nightmares about the raid on her village, which often left her sweaty and panting, but although the images in her dreams had been much the same, today was different. Her hair and nightgown were sticking to her damp skin as usual, and the dull headache was not unfamiliar either, but the pain in her lower back was, and so was the stickiness on the insides of her thighs.

When she sat up, she felt a gush of warm liquid. She threw back the covers and rucked up her nightgown, discovering bright red splotches on her skin and a darker stain on the bedclothes. She squirmed away, kicking at the covers, almost falling headfirst to the ground as she struggled to get out of the bed. She ended up on her hands and knees, half slouched against the side of the bed, heart hammering in her chest.

"Saints!" she hissed. Ana Kuya was going to kill her for staining the sheets.

To Alina's surprise, the older woman was surprisingly gentle with her as she gave her a bundle of rags and instructed her on her entrance into womanhood. She even allowed her to indulge in a cake and released her of her chores that morning. 

Hours later, she noticed the itch on the skin of her left breast. She rubbed at it lightly through the fabric of her tunic, mentally hearing Ana Kuya's voice chiding her, for it was unseemly for a girl to scratch herself, but the itch wouldn't stop.

When she unlaced her tunic to look at the itchy red blotch, it started burning. She he ran to her water basin, hoping cool water might ease the sting. She dabbed at the wound with a rag, and when it stopped burning, she uncovered it to see two words written an inch above her nipple.

A story long forgotten returned to her, and she clasped a hand over her mouth as the realization hit her. She snuck out of her room and tiptoed through the hallway down the stairs to slip into Ana Kuya's bedroom, where she kept a mirror on her dressing table. 

Shifting between twisting her neck and squinting at the letters curling on her breast in the looking glass, Alina deciphered the name written on her skin. Aleksander Morozova. She had no idea who that was. Her heart sank into her stomach, and she realized she'd been hoping for a different name.

Luda died. Aleksander had always known she would. His mother had warned him often enough. It still happened too soon, it was too brutal, too callous, and it hurt so much he could barely breathe. 

Afterwards, he had finally come to accept his mother's lesson that love was a weakness he couldn't afford, but he had still defied her by using merzost in his grief and his rage. Creating the Fold had changed him. He had become a dark god of death and destruction. Even if the small, lonely boy inside of him still craved it, he knew he couldn't risk getting attached to mortals again. 

Hundreds of years later, he decided it was for the best he had never received a mark. Watching every single person he ever met die was bad enough as it was, and he'd learned to shield himself from the grief. But he had also witnessed the heartbreak, the devastating and soul-crushing pain, the sharp-edged, gaping hole tearing a person apart after they had lost their soulmate. He was not arrogant enough to think he might survive that. 

He took lovers over the years. He was still a man after all, and he'd learned that nothing could replace the feeling of skin on skin and human warmth exchanged in the meeting of two, or more bodies. He tried to avoid other Grisha though, at least until after he'd built the Little Palace and he could be sure he had enough power to protect himself from their greed. He had not forgotten Annika. 

There was a Shu princess once, who would become a saint later. She believed in destiny, and though she knew what he was from the moment she first touched him, she wanted more from him than killing him and wearing his bones. Aleksander was sure that she loved him, but he had become incapable of returning those feelings.

He still remembers her eyes searching his body in the soft glow of the firelight after he had bedded her for the first time. He knew her name would not appear on his body, and that suited him just fine. 

Her own mark had been burned off on orders of the King, a king she would bring to his knees years later. She would take his throne and his country, and rule it wisely. He could have stayed by her side for that, but soon enough, he would sneak off in the dead of night, leaving her with a broken heart to protect his own. 

He took lovers, and he enjoyed his time with them, but he made sure to armour his heart, and he never looked for a soulmark again. 

Alina was only days away from her sixteenth birthday when Mal became the first person to see her soulmark. She'd come to accept that he was not her soulmate, but she still hadn't figured out who Aleksander Morozova was, so she told herself there was no harm in letting Mal kiss her in the meadow or behind the stables. 

And that was how she had ended up in the pantry with him. He had removed his shirt and kicked off his boots, unfastening and shoving his trousers down.

Alina was down to her tunic, her own leggings lost somewhere in a corner. She moved to close the distance between them. She pushed herself up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him.

He splayed his hands on her back and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. She rubbed her thighs together as she could feel his hardening length against her belly.

He fisted his hands into the fabric of her tunic and started bunching it up. She froze in his embrace.

"What's wrong?" he asked her. 

Alina hesitated, but she had known for a while that she couldn't hide this from him forever. "Promise you won't hate me?"

He frowned, but nodded.

She reached for the hem of her tunic and pulled it over her head, resisting the urge to cover her breasts with her arms.

Alina spotted the moment the desire in his eyes shifted to revulsion, or fear perhaps, she couldn't be sure. There was definitely pain, she decided, as she tried to grab his arm.

He flinched and danced away from her touch, not meeting her eyes in the faint light. 

Hesitantly, she reached for him again. "I’m sorry," she whispered, but he was already collecting his clothes and heading for the door.

When Alina wakes up after her first night at the Little Palace, she tries to insist that she is perfectly capable of washing herself, but the army of maids that has suddenly infiltrated her rooms just won't listen to her. They have her out of her clothes and in the bathtub in a matter of moments, and Alina can only sit back and stare at them with her mouth hanging open. 

She doesn't want any of them to see her naked. Mal had been the first, and for now, she wants him to be the last. She even kept her tunic on when she bedded Yuri in the cartographers tent, pretending to be too shy to take it off. 

She can see it happening, and she tries to stop it, but before she can do so, the girl closest to her brushes her hair back and bares her chest. She gasps and whispers, "Madam Safin!", clasping a hand over her mouth.

The tailor who has introduced herself as Genya approaches them and takes one look at Alina's mark, before clapping her hands once and ordering all of the maids out of the room. 

"I'm so sorry," she tells Alina with a sad smile on her face. "I can't fix that."

"I've had it for five years," she says dumbly, not understanding why Genya is apologizing to her. She crosses her arms over her chest and keeps her head down. 

"Ah," the beautiful redhead remembers. "You wouldn't know, of course."

"Know what?" Alina wonders, head snapping back up to look at Genya. 

She kneels next to the bathtub. "Do you know the story of Sankt Ilya?"

Alina nods. Ana Kuya had told all of the saints' stories countless times to the orphans of Keramzin.

"Grisha know him as Ilya Morozova, the Bone Smith," she continues, resting her arms on the edge of the tub. "You've heard the tale of his martyrdom?"

"Yes," she answers, though she remembers there were several versions. There was always a child, though.

"Ilya had two children. We don't know their names, but perhaps one of them was your Aleksander," she mumbles. "Ilya Morozova's children died with him, and their deaths ended the Morozova line."

She shakes her head. "What does that mean?"

Genya sighs, her big blue eyes filled with pity when she looks at Alina. "I think it means you are both blessed and cursed."

When General Kirigan leads Alina into his council room on the night of the winter fete, she hasn't thought about Aleksander Morozova in weeks. And when his lips meet hers she almost forgets her own name.

Alina has been kissed before, drunken endeavours, awkward fumblings, most of them mistakes, often either too tentative or too bold, but this, this is different. Kirigan's mouth and hands are sure, moving and touching with purpose. His body is hard and insistent against hers, but never crossing that line of suffocating aggression, even if part of her wouldn't mind it.

He kisses her like a starved man, desperate and craving whatever it is he may think she can offer him, and Alina feels like she is drowning. Her head is spinning, she feels weightless and too heavy all at once. It's too much, so overwhelming part of her wants to push him away so she doesn't lose herself in the feeling of kissing him and being kissed by him, but she's too hungry for it.

Instead, she grabs the lapels of his kefta, bunching the fabric in her rabid fist and cards the fingers of her other hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling on the strands to ground herself. She's losing herself, but she's never been less afraid in her life. It's not truly loss, it's transcendence, a promise of something far greater, a concord of beauty and terror that has her straining to reach it. 

He groans into her mouth, and she swallows that groan greedily. His lips leave hers to nip at her jaw and suck on her pulse point, drawing a mewl from her throat. His hands are  still everywhere, roaming, exploring, holding, caressing, as are hers. 

She doesn't register the first knock on the door, but the second one makes her gasp, makes her reach for him with greedy fingers as soon as she feels him starting to pull back.

"Don't." She's not begging him, it's a feral growl rising from her chest.

He rests his forehead against hers and chuckles, stealing another kiss that has her craning her neck when he steps out of her embrace. Her heavy eyes flutter open, finding the black pools that are his and she feels liquid warmth swirling in her core. 

"Don't," she repeats, and this time it does sound like a plea, but she knows it's no use. Just a moment ago, he was in as deep as she was, but now he's striding for the door. 

He comes back for her, if only for a moment, but he returns to kiss her, only to leave again. It's a continuation of their game, this push and pull, but somehow there is no doubt in Alina's mind that he will be back. And she'll be here waiting for him.

She still feels dazed, and giddy, caught up in a warm, golden haze, when a creak behind her snaps her slow mind out of it and forces her to whirl around and call the light. 

A panel in the wall closest to her had swung open and Baghra was standing in the doorway it had been hiding. 

"Come, child, come quickly!" she whispers, and despite herself, Alina obeys the urgency in her voice.

"What's wrong?" she manages to ask before Baghra coaxes her into the tunnel behind her and starts walking, Alina following along.

Baghra tells her about the Fold and the Black Heretic, and she warns Alina that she's in danger. She claims that Kirigan is the danger. 

Alina objects. She keeps mouthing, "No!" her voice growing stronger until Baghra's stern look forces her to say, "I don't understand."

"Child," Baghra intones, grabbing her by the wrist. "Aleksander is the Black Heretic."

"What?" she blurts out. She should tell Baghra that she's not making any sense, that what she is telling her is impossible, completely ridiculous even, but she can't focus on any of that. Her hand flies up to cover the top of her left breast. 

"What did you call him?" 

Baghra huffs. "Did you think Kirigan was his real name? It's Aleksander Morozova."

Baghra tells her more, so much more. She summons shadows and shows her a painting, but Alina barely registers any of it. She keeps seeing his face. She hears his name inside her head, over and over again. Aleksander Morozova. Baghra leaves her, orders her to keep walking and to turn right at the fork. Her accomplices will be waiting for Alina there. 

Alina doesn't turn right at the fork. She's not ready to trust whatever Baghra has planned for her. She could wait and return to the Little Palace, follow the tunnel all the way back to Kirigan's—no, Aleksander's chambers, talk to him, tell him everything and demand an explanation.

Alina doesn't go back. She turns left at the fork and keeps walking, speeding up to a jog. Too much has happened tonight, and it's overwhelming her. She needs to get away from all of it. So she runs. 

[sapphiics]

All I wanna get is(just a little more closer)

a/n: I listened to Nights by Frank Ocean for a good two and a half hours straight writing this.

dt: @ellesgreenaway india you are the sole reason i finished this I really needed the encouragement thank you so much babes

word count: 1.7k

content warning: none! it’s barely angsty and includes a happy ending

———

“You didn’t have to walk me home.”

 “I mean I’m pretty sure you were invited to at least three different after parties.” JJ continues, turning towards Elle. The two of them were walking home from the last football game of the season. Their last one ever, senior year finally upon them.

“Parties that I’m not even remotely interested, seeing as how you’re not gonna be there.” Elle’s hair tossing over her shoulder as she looks at JJ. Her silky brown hair, curly and damp after tonight’s game.They’re natural, sitting just below Elle’s shoulders, framing her face perfectly. JJ’s always liked the curls.

Truth be told, JJ’s liked just about everything concerning Elle Greenaway, since the day she looked out her bedroom window to see a U-Haul truck parked outside, a young girl moving boxes into the house across the street in November of junior year. It didn’t help that Elle happened to be a star soccer player at her old school, and their similar interests meant JJ and her had 5 classes together. Or that she wore the same vanilla perfume single day, a scent JJ couldn’t get out of her head.

But it was when Elle really started being close with her, the two of them practically joined at the hip, that JJ’s innocent infatuation turned deeper. When they started going to practice together, getting lunch, meeting up outside of school. Sleepovers in JJ’s bed, their legs intertwined under the heavy quilt she uses as a comforter. She can still remember the first night the two of them shared the same bed, facing each other with their hands folded under their heads. The following morning brings the brutal news to JJ’s heart, that she has the biggest crush on her best friend. A crush that’s only intensified as the months go by, to the point where JJ finds herself both wanting to be around Elle constantly, and wishing the brunette was far away from her as to prevent further heartbreak. But Elle was irresistible, and JJ couldn’t avoid her even if she wanted to. So she shoved it down, deep down into her stomach, convincing herself that she and Elle could be friends. Just friends.

Only ever friends.

The ever so prominent fact that Elle still thought JJ was dating somebody only made matters worse. 

She wasn’t wrong to think so, considering up until three days ago, JJ had been in a steady relationship with Will Lamontagne. The charming country boy, Will came to their school just a couple months before Elle did, and him and JJ hit it off like nobody else. He was sweet, unassuming, and treated her with nothing but respect. From the moment he met her parents, Mr & Mrs. Jareau have been daydreaming over their future wedding. Everybody expected them to make it, the one couple from high school to go the distance, stick it out to the inevitable end. Half the town’s got bets on them getting married right after graduation.

But Will wasn’t clueless, and JJ had never been the best at hiding her emotions. After all, there was a reason they worked so well together for so long. He may not be her great love, but he knew her and her feelings, a fact that kept JJ with him for almost a year. Despite how much he loved her, and he did love her, Will knew it wasn’t reciprocated, and JJ was never going to break his heart. Nothing surprised her more than to see him at her doorstep that Tuesday afternoon, a medium-sized cardboard box in his hands.

Her volleyball sweatshirt hanging over the edge, a picture of the two of them at homecoming sticking out of the box. The overwhelming sorrow she could feel radiating from him as he broke up with her already made her feel awful, but it was the sincerity in his voice when he told her to be with who truly makes her happy that broke her. A pointed look ,silently telling her that he knows, brings tears to her eyes and forces her arms to wrap tightly around his neck. Twisting her hands in his shirt and breathing in the smell of aftershave and pine that always came Will, JJ loved him more in that moment than she ever could remember in the 8 months they’ve been dating. 

Which brings her back to the present, where she finds Elle looking at her strangely, a nervous yet curious look on her face. Which unnerves JJ, considering Elle isn’t nervous about anything. She’s always been the more confident, teetering on brash, one of the pair. “I found out something interesting today,” Elle starts, “Apparently somebody broke up with their long term boyfriend this week and neglected to tell me.” Her mildly accusing tone caused JJ to stop and turn fully towards Elle. “I figured it wasn’t important,” she shrugs, “ I wasn’t heartbroken and we had a busy week to focus on anyway.”

“You guys dated for nine months, this is practically a divorce.” Elle laments, looping her arm through JJ’s and leaning into the blonde, “Obviously you’re feeling something about this, and I want to be there for you.” Her voice turns soft at the end, and JJ finally meets Elle’s eyes, the care and love in her face shining.

The love JJ can see Elle has for her is almost stifling, stealing her breath and making her heart ache. What she would give to have that love mirror hers, for Elle to want the same things JJ’s wanted for the past year. The two of them stare into each other’s eyes, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and JJ can smell the strong scent of Elle’s trademark icebreakers. She could've sworn Elle glanced down at her lips when her tongue poked out and swiped against them, glossing over the cracks caused by the impending winter. Whatever was happening between them ended almost as soon as it began, a fleeting moment that passed far too quickly for JJ’s taste.

“So don’t bottle it up and tell me next time,” Elle says, giving JJ an exaggerated eye roll, following up with a large grin across her face as she starts to pick up speed. JJ lags behind her, not ready to go home just yet. They still reach her house in no time, and JJ finds herself desperate for more time with her, just the two of them in their own little bubble separate from the world. She gradually slows as they approach her walkway, JJ hoping she doesn’t have to say anything, that Elle will just know what she wants.

“You wanna go to the park?” Elle suddenly says ,the words ones that JJ desperately wanted to hear. She nods feverishly, her cheeks heating up as Elle slides her hand down her arm, grasping JJ’s. The pair walk in relative silence, Elle’s soft hands fitting perfectly into her own, their shoulders pressed together as they march towards the tiny playground in their cul-de-sac. It’s only when they’re sitting side by side at the top of the slide when Elle finally spits out what JJ can tell she’s been waiting to say all evening.

“ Why are you so okay about this?” At JJ’s surprised face Elle backtracks, “ I mean if you dated for so long and you loved each other then how are you so okay about it? It took me a good month to get over my last girlfriend, and we weren’t half as serious as you and Will.” 

JJ sighs, the words on the tip of her tongue since the breakup really settled in, “ I guess I just wanted something more, I mean Will is a great guy, but I want to feel more than just complacent in a relationship, you know?” JJ lets out a small huff at the end, her breath clouding up in front of her. “ I felt so guilty about it, but I never,” she pauses, an odd sense of vulnerability she’s scared to give in to settling inside of her, “ I never yearned for Will. I mean, he was there and he made me happy, but I would be completely okay without him.”

“I just want someone I can’t live without, someone who I want to be with always.” Finally letting out what she’s been thinking this entire week, she’s surprised to see Elle sitting closer, her hands in both of JJ’s.

“You want passion.”

Elle turns her entire body towards JJ, keeping their hands intact as she stares into the blonde’s eyes.

“You want someone who can’t be replaced.” JJ can’t look away, even as she feels Elle’s hands slide up her arm. Her breath starts coming quicker, and she can feel her hair getting pushed back by Elle’s slender fingers as they get impossibly closer.

“You deserve to be completely in love with whoever you’re with JJ. You deserve the best.” Elle sliding her hand closer to the back of JJ’s head, their noses grazing each other. “You think so?” JJ’s voice a small whisper she slides her fingers towards Elle’s waist, her heart near beating out of her chest. The insecure part of her brain convincing her that this was a dream, one of the many she’s had about her best friend.

But then Elle leans in that last inch, cradling JJ’s head in her hand, and there was no doubt in her brain that this was real. Cause Elle’s lips were just as soft as they looked, and they moved against JJ’s in a gentle yet all-consuming way that wiped away everything from her mind except this moment. JJ could taste the fruitiness of Elle’s raspberry gum, and the peach slushie they shared during halftime was still faint in her mouth. It’s like everything she was missing out on, all the emptiness she felt when with Will, was getting filled to the brim by Elle and her kisses, overwhelming JJ in the most addictive way.

When they finally separate, small pants the only sound they can hear as their foreheads touch, something akin to fear strikes through JJ. The knowledge that nothing is ever going to be the same between them hitting her like a freight train.

“ I do,” followed by a chaste peck, “ Of course I do.” And Elle’s grinning at her, trailing her long fingers through JJ’s hair, easing every single worry she could possibly have.

taglist: @greenaway-lewis @scandinavian-punk @ssajelle @morcias @suburban--gothic @jemilyology @rosesblueviolets @willlemonheadsupremacy

[obithoes]

😳 can u write a sasuke cheating on sakura or nah?

covetous: sasuke uchiha

warnings: smut, tiny age gap, cheating (which i don’t condone)

authors note: hell yeah i can, a cheating sasuke makes such good content

word count: 1756

You knew he was married, you knew he had a child, but you also knew how tedious it was for him to keep going home to her. Sakura Haruno thought marriage and a child would make everything different, that she would finally be able to have Sasuke all to herself. Only this posed to be quite the opposite, when Sasuke was home the attention he reserved for his family went solely to his daughter. He rarely focused any of his attention on Sakura, but when he did she took as much as she could get.

Sakura was living in the fantasy she always dreamed of; creating the perfect family she always wished for with her long time crush. Maybe that’s why she never questioned why he was always staying out so late and rarely came home. Maybe that’s why she never questioned him when she would smell the scent of a perfume she didn’t own on his clothes whenever she did his laundry. Maybe that’s why she never gave too much thought to the lingering looks Sasuke would give you whenever you were in his presence.

You, the young but nevertheless highly skilled jonin, who is well respected throughout the village; one the young genin often looked up to. Your captivating features often distracted people of your skills. A kind soul you were, always doing your best and offering an extra hand when needed.

You met Sasuke after being placed on a mission with him, you were ordered to assist him on by the hokage. He just came back home from his so called redemption and was already being thrown back into work. He had a mysterious aura to him that didn’t fail to make your curious; a broody man that rarely talked. Once reporting back to the hokage of how smoothly everything went, he was impressed with the outcome and decided to make the two partners. Neither of you had any disagreements so it was settled.

You were strictly Sasuke’s partner for a year, before this happened, and during that year you learned a lot about him. He opened up about the history of his clan, traumatic events that shaped him into the person he was, along with how he has wife and daughter. Sasuke told you things he’s never even shared Sakura. The more you learned about Sasuke the more drawn you were to him, he occupied your thoughts, always there when you didn’t want him to be.

As time past you became attracted to him, knowing that he had a family back at home didn’t bother you in the slightest. You wanted him and you knew he wanted you too, he rarely gave you the time of day when you were in the village, but during missions it was different. Sasuke would always stick his neck out for you, jumping in front of an enemies attacks that was aimed at you; gravely injuring himself. Instances were you would get wounded he would carefully tend to the wounds while a scolding you for being so careless.

The first time it happened was after being ambushed by a group of rouge ninjas. When the battle ended Sasuke was gravely injured, you ended up having to carry him back to the inn the two of you were staying at. While you patched him up you ignored his intense gaze. Once you placed the last bandage on him his fingers lightly gripped your chin, before you had the chance to pull away from, tilting your head up. Innocently blinking your eyes up at him cause his grip to tighten.

He pulled you forward capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. Much to your dismay Sasuke pulled away, just enough so your lips were separated. His stare was consuming, intently gauging to see if you were alright with what he did. Releasing his bandaged arm you combed your hands through his hair pulling in and kissed him with all your might. Neither of you slept that night, Sasuke fucked you through the morning. He was insatiable, you were feeding the beast he caged away for so long and he couldn’t control himself. Finger tip shaped bruises danced along your hips and bite marks scattered across your chest. You loved every second of it.

As the sun crept through the window, Sasuke began to decadent form the bed only to be stopped by you. The grip on his wrist was loose, glancing over at you he took note of the faint blush dusting your face. “Was this a one time thing?” His permanent stoic expression didn’t waver but you were used to it. He removed your grip on his hand and placed a light kiss to your palm. “No” he replied softly in a assuring tone before he set off to redress.

Six months later after that mission you were still meeting in secret, you were pretty sure his wife knew there was someone else. You were always sure to leave a mark on him or make sure your scent was weaved into the fabric of his clothes before he left you. You were envious of Sakura, you wanted Sasuke all to yourself; if it meant destroying his marriage then so be it.

Instead of coming over to your house like normally he invited you to his, Sakura was away on a mission and Sarada would be training until night. As soon as he opened the door he wasted no time dragging you to bedroom he shared with his wife. Once reaching the room he pressed you against the wall, giving you a needy wet kiss full of tongue. You were amused by how needy he was after not seeing you for some time.

Within a matter of minutes you both were shredded of every article of clothing, before he pinned you to his mattress, faced down ass up. Spreading your legs far apart with his warm hands Sasuke traced his thumb over your slit, spreading your wetness. The light touch left you wanting more. A small whimper left your mouth as you pushed your hips back against his hand. “Sasuke” Your tone was pleading. Whining, just like the needy brat you were when it came to him.

He lowered himself down so he was eye level with your dripping cunt, he blew on it before opening his mouth to speak. “Stop whining” His words were taunting. Any protest you had died on your lips as Sasuke pushed his tongue between your folds, lapping up your slit. A choked moan left your throat as your hips jolted forward, Sasuke quickly gripped your hips firmly holding them in place against his face.

He continued his vicious assault, digging his tongue in your slit, devouring you like it was his last meal. Every time he swiped his tongue up he made sure to pay special attention to your throbbing clit. He would alternate between sucking and grazing it with his teeth; just how you liked it.

“Fuck” The pleasure was too much, your orgasm was approaching quickly. Your hips pushed back against his face, trembling voice crying out for him to keep going. “Please don’t stop”

Your thighs quivered underneath his tight grip. Focusing all of his attention on your sensitive clit Sasuke slid his fingers inside of you, curling them to meet the strokes of his tongue. “Yes, oh god — I’m cumming” Your orgasm crashes into you, drenching Sasuke’s face. Your body went limp in his hold as he continues you lick you dry before letting fall against the soft mattress.

Turning over your glossy eyes glazed over him; a libidinous sight. Sasuke was towering over you, lips were glistening, with a starved look in his eyes. Bending down he gave you a wet kiss, before working his way down your neck, placing one more kiss to your ear. “You always taste so sweet” Faintly clawing at his shoulders, a whimper left your body at this confession.

A quiet chuckle escaped him, before sitting up and positioning himself between your legs. Taking hold of both of them he pushed towards your chest before locking them over his shoulders. You felt him rub the the tip of his cock against your slit before dipping it in, only to pull it right back out. He continued to do this a few more times watching your squirm underneath him. “Don’t tease” the words left your mouth in a breathy whine.

Leaning forward Sasuke lowered his upper half, pushing his chest against your breast. With a sharp thrust he bottomed out, completely filling you to the brim. “What did I tell you about whining?” Pulling out completely Sasuke slammed back into you with a sharp thrust, a broken cry leaving your lips. “Hm? What did I tell you about acting like a spoiled brat?” Sasuke dug his fingers into your hips before setting his brutal pace.

His hips were snapping restlessly against yours, sharp thrust reaching deep enough to hit your gspot repeatedly. Sobs wrecked through your body, your nails clawing at his back desperately in search of something to cling on to. Sasuke was never worried when you marked him, he relished the feel. He found pleasure in knowing he could make you feel like this. Every time he fucked Sakura her moans were always so forced and over the top. He couldn’t stand it, but with you he knew it was never forced, hearing you beg and cry out for him to wreck you made him fall apart.

His cock was twitching against your snug walls as you cunt weeped from how rough he was. Your legs were trembling, you were positive you would barley be able to walk when this was over. Your wet mound was suctioning around him, pulling him deeper with every thrust. He brought his hand around, placing his rough fingers on your clit rubbing it matching the pace he was thrusting.

Reaching your second orgasm your back violently arched up as you tightened around him. Cries of his name were fleeting your mouth along with other incoherent slurs. His hips rut forward at your vice grip, plunging deep inside of you painting your pulpy walls. After milking him dry his body fell limp on top of yours.

Once catching his breath Sasuke pulled out and tucked you into side. The two of you stood like this for a while, before you gather yourselves together, knowing his daughter would be returning home soon.

[thecabaggewoman]

Fic rec!

Star Wars :

Thrawn fic :

Here!

Betrayal

What if Luke made some very different decisions during the Original Trilogy and throughout the "Legends" Expanded Universe. This is an AU story with all my favorite characters. The story veers off being canon after A New Hope.

Atla :

Here!

Mha :

Mastermind : strategist for hire (Tododeku)

Izuku Midoriya never got the chance to save Bakugo from the sludge villain and impress All Might. With his dream crushed, Izuku becomes bitter and angry. It also doesn't help that he faces discrimination at every turn.

All he ever wanted was to be appreciated, so when the villains are the ones to recognize his talents rather than the heroes, well, Izuku just can't resist. He might as well help those who actually want him around.

Mistakes were made, and now society must face a villain of their own making: Mastermind

Deku? I think he's some pro Izuoka

Yagi Toshinori watched the green haired boy walk away after saving his friend and shook his head. While the boy's actions were heroic, he was just too reckless. He walked in the opposite direction, thinking about a time he could meet the candidate Sir Nighteye put forward.

Izuku Midoriya goes home and decides that, even if he can't be hero himself, he can still help them with his analysis. Cue Izuku catching the attention of multiple heroes who are a little more open-minded and willing to see the potential in a quirkless kid.

Cheat code : support strategist (Mei/Deku)

After All Might gives Izuku a much needed reality check, he has to find a new dream. When he learns that the support course at UA offers an emphasis in Intelligence and Analytics, it sounds like the perfect new passion for him to throw himself into.

Who knew? Maybe Hero Analysis for the Future was never meant for his future as a hero, but for his future helping heroes...

Viridian : the green guide (Kamideku)

After his dream is finally crushed, Izuku isn’t quite sure there’s anything left for him to live for, but...he can’t exactly kill himself either, not without hurting the people he cares the most about. So, when he realizes that the quirkless can’t technically be vigilantes, it seems like the best of both worlds. He’ll be able to save people even without being a hero and, if he happens to die while he’s at it...well, like Kacchan said, maybe he’d be born with a quirk in the next life.

Apex Predator (Tododeku, Dabihawks)

Every single school had one: someone at the top of the food chain. An acme. Someone who could do things under a teacher's nose, escape consequences, and terrify other people. Someone who looked down on everyone else like they were prey. An apex predator. And Izuku couldn't count on teachers and adults to protect anyone. Even a hero school wasn't safe from the phenomena. When Izuku gets to Yuuei, he's determined to find out who it is and ensure they can't hurt him or his new friends.

...and accidentally, in the process, becomes the apex predator (though he is mostly unaware of this, and uses it for good. But still, people are terrified of him.)

(Or, a snowball chain of events wherein Izuku's paranoia leads to 1A becoming a family, everyone in school being in debt to him, Aizawa adopting everyone in his sight and slowly growing closer to committing acts of arson, the League gaining redemption and working with the resident Apex Predator to combat the Hero Commission whilst gaining technically legal identities, and Hawks finding a family. Hurt people help other hurt people, and they're all doing their best. Some laws may or may not be broken in the process.)

How the league of villain adopt a Hawk (Dabihawks)

When Dabi accidentally uses a gesture that Hawks associates with the Commission's brutal punishments, the league discovers exactly what the hero's life is like.

They're not happy about it.

area cryptid upset no one bothered to inform him of his tragic backstory (Dabihawks)

“My life is a nightmare,” Dabi muttered blankly.

“Nah, this is hilarious,” Hawks said, and while he wasn’t explicitly laughing, Dabi knew that those weird little chirps he was letting out were pointed at him. “Imagine if we go through all this effort and you don’t even have some sort of dramatic background or tragic backstory to justify you being this emo, you’re just a hot topic junkie or something.”

“That’s fucking worse.”

Or,

Dabi has amnesia and keeps reading conspiracy theories about himself in an attempt to figure out who he is, gets the League in on it, and they dismantle organized crime, revolutionize society, and ravage the hero system in the process. Hawks suffers.

Why are we here again?

The brighter the light, the darker the shadows. And in a super-powered society, those shadows are dark indeed. But whilst the world desperately trained more and more heroes, making that light brighter and brighter, the prestigious hero school, UA, had another idea. Why not tackle the problem at its source?

And so was born the infamous class 1-A. Would-be criminals from all over the country were selected, and a group of twenty roam now the halls of the school, alongside the heroes of the next generation.

Last year, the entirety of Mr Aizawa’s class A graduated. But this year was different. No, he didn’t believe they would all graduate back into society like the classes before them. He believed they could become something bigger. That was why, with gritted teeth and a manic smile, Eraser Head turned to his new class of students and said:

"You aren't villains - you never were, and you never will be. But you can take that fire inside of you and put it to good use. We're in a hero school, aren't we? Well then...

"Let's be heroes."

Japan vs Shigaraki

Summary here

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Never enough time

Taken from the information scroll “Humans: Sages of our Time” by Rivrind Pios.

The often excepted portrayal of humanity is one of greedy bipeds with no sense of reasoning beyond their own personal wants and needs. I must confess that this notion is rather fitting for most humans as many I have encountered in my travels had been in the process of pursuing their own dreams and ambitions at the time and appeared almost blindsided to the world around them. 

Their seemingly endless need for excess seems to be their key driving factor. More food, more wealth, more power, more clothing, more hair, more muscles, more and more and more on and on for an eternity. Nothing ever appears to satisfying the teeming throngs of manlings until they are buried deep beneath the soil where they want no more. Countless worlds have been left in ruin by this rabid hunger for more to the point many species consider humans to be nothing more than a blight upon the very stars themselves. I myself began harboring such ideas of humans for some time as nothing I had seen in my journeys had shown me otherwise. It wasn’t until I came across one of the strangest humans I’ve ever met in the city of Shanghai on the human home world that finally gave me greater clarity to the inner workings of humans. 

I had been exploring the south eastern hemisphere of the world and found myself wandering the streets of Shanghai. It’s history of a rich trade city was clearly visible as it had been upgraded into a massive star port taking hundreds of craft in daily. While waiting for a layover to the north western hemisphere I found myself wandering the streets of the bustling city. 

The city was a maze of catwalks, boulevards, parks, back alleys, side streets, and market places. Several times I found myself accosted by other humans while wandering the avenues, though many soon lost heart and fled after I revealed my many rows of teeth. It seemed humans were not fond of many mouths and many teeth for some reason. 

While exploring I smelled something so delicious it had me enthralled from the moment I inhaled that delectable scent. Keenly I tracked down the aroma through several alleys and back streets, down three sub levels, and passed four cordoned checks before arriving at a neat little hole in the wall food dispensary called “Athens of the East” 

The inside was dimly lit with assorted rows of tables and chairs lining the walls. In the center of the room was a massive sandbox like ring where two humans were currently punching each other violently while the humans at the tables cheering and whooped. 

At first I found myself deeply confused as to why such a barbaric establishment would have such divine food smells coming from it until I noticed the tables with plates of food still on them. to say the morsels looked delicious was an understatement so I put aside my confusion about the entertainment and waved a waitress to sit me. 

To my displeasure it appeared that every table was occupied and I would have to wait as the crowds cheered again as one of the fighters took a punch to the face and went sprawling to the sand. I was just about to leave when one of the patrons at a table waved to me. They kicked a chair opposite them from beneath the table and waved for me to come join them. 

I had heard tales of humans luring unsuspecting fools to their graves and was first hesitant to accept the offer, but the human sitting at the table merely explained it was bad taste to eat alone and wanted to have some company. I was still cautious but the smell of the foods made it impossible to pass on such a chance and so I joined the human at their table. 

They were an elderly human going on some 80-90 years if I was to guess; nothing but a younger species considering I lived to be roughly 3000 years old before my species passed on. Their clothes were of a fine material but i could see that they had been worn regularly and their hairs had turns a shade of greyish white. The elderly human was of the talking variety and seemed rather happy to be having company and chatted up a storm. I was not in as much of a talkative mode yet felt it rude after they had shared their table so I joined the conversations when I had something to say. 

It turned out that we were more alike then I had first imagined as they too were a traveler seeking new destinations, They had been to most of the human cities on their homeworld and now were waiting to catch a flight to the Hive homeworld thirty three systems over. Their flight had been delayed for several days now due to gravitational storms and they had come to here to let off some steam. I was going to inquire as to what exactly that meant when one of the fighters in the ring had been knocked down and was unable to get up. The cheers of the crowd were silenced as another human stepped forwarded and asked if there was anyone brave enough to challenge the surviving champion. 

To my complete surprise the elderly human I had been sharing the table with rose up and unbuttoned his shirt. He left it on his chair and stepped forward into the ring. The announcer backed away and rang the bell and the two fought each other. The elderly man was not what one would call in the prime of his life, what with his belly sagging forward like a sack of lumpa berries, but his muscles were toned well enough to keep the fight far from being one sided. The bout lasted about twenty minutes before the elderly man, now covered in bruises, threw a hard right and knocked his opponent to the ground and won. He returned to his chair shortly after the crowds cheers had died down and resume his drinking and food consumption. 

I asked him why would committing combat let off steam to which he replied that he was angry that his flight had been delayed so long and that fighting a stranger in some back alley dive had always been a wish he’d had since he was a young scrapper. Perplexed I inquired again how a delayed flight transitions to brutal combat. The Hive world wasn’t going anywhere and would still be there when the flights resumed. 

The elderly man sat in silence for some time, his stare focused on the swirling ice cubes of his drink as he rocked it back and forth. He told me that he was dying and that his time among the living was dwindling day by day. He had a disease called “cancer” that was slowly devouring his body from the inside out like rot and soon he would be too ill even to lift himself out of a bed let alone fight someone in a back alley fighting ring. 

It was unusual to feel sad for someone you have just met and yet I felt pain knowing my new companion would soon pass off their physical remains. I apologized to him and gave him my well wishes too which they oddly laughed and waved me away like I had just knocked over their glass and thought it was the end of the world. 

He thanked me but said he did not want my pity nor my sorrow. I asked him why then if he was dying that he would take such a journey off world with such little time remaining. He took a swish of his drink and waved for another as he told me it had always been one of his wishes to see another world. 

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment and his eyes narrowed out. He spoke of many things he had wanted to do when he was younger. Buy a boat, go fishing every day, ask his schooling crush out for a dance, traverse the globe with friends. He told me of how something would always come up at the last second that would hold him back and his chance would pass him by. How many missed opportunities had passed him by that only now in his old age did he see. 

He chuckled to himself and said how he wished he could live forever, or at the very least a few more years, so he could finally check everything off his list as he took another sim of his drink. 

Now that he was old it seemed like all he had was time until he found out his clock was ticking faster to his demise then he had planned. Now he wished to achieve what dreams he could before his clock finally stopped. 

To this day I’m not sure if it was their words or the combination of drink and food I had been having but in an instant my entire perspective of humanity had shifted. 

We spoke for some time more together until my notifier alerted me that my flight was now on schedule. I stood up and shook the hand of the strange human as they turned their back to me and entered the ring once more. I pondered what I had learned from the odd man as I took the streets back upwards to the space port.

Humans apparent greed and carelessness was not in a self centered manner for some, but rather born from a fear of knowing constantly that their existence would eventually come to an end.

For a being such as myself with an extended lifetime I do not feel this need as much, but with short lived species like humans it must be a constant cloud circling them ever reminding them that what they miss today may be missed forever.

It was only after I reached the the top level of the city with my mind circling with ideas of missed opportunities that I realized something. For all the stranger had shared to me, for all the stories and laugh had in that dimly lit food dispensary, for all the kindness they had shown me I had made a fatal mistake. 

I had never asked them their name.

I had missed my opportunity......   

[oscopelabs]

‘America’s Not a Country, It’s Just a Business’: On Andrew Dominik’s ‘Killing Them Softly’ By Roxana Hadadi

“Shitsville.” That’s the name Killing Them Softly director Andrew Dominik gave to the film’s nameless town, in which low-level criminals, ambitious mid-tier gangsters, nihilistic assassins, and the mob’s professional managerial class engage in warfare of the most savage kind. Onscreen, other states are mentioned (New York, Maryland, Florida), and the film itself was filmed in post-Hurricane Katrina New Orleans, though some of the characters speak with Boston accents that are pulled from the source material, George V. Higgins’s novel Cogan’s Trade. But Dominik, by shifting Higgins’s narrative 30 or so years into the future and situating it specifically during the 2008 Presidential election, refuses to limit this story to one place. His frustrations with America as an institution that works for some and not all are broad and borderless, and so Shitsville serves as a stand-in for all the places not pretty enough for gentrifying developers to turn into income-generating properties, for all the cities whose industrial booms are decades in the past, and for all the communities forgotten by the idea of progress._ Killing Them Softly_ is a movie about the American dream as an unbeatable addiction, the kind of thing that invigorates and poisons you both, and that story isn’t just about one place. That’s everywhere in America, and nearly a decade after the release of Dominik’s film, that bitter bleakness still has grim resonance.

In November 2012, though, when Killing Them Softly was originally released, Dominik’s gangster picture-cum-pointed criticism of then-President Barack Obama’s vision of an America united in the same neoliberal goals received reviews that were decidedly mixed, tipping toward negative. (Audiences, meanwhile, stayed away, with Killing Them Softly opening at No. 7 with $7 million, one of the worst box office weekends of Brad Pitt’s entire career at that time.) Obama’s first term had been won on a tide of hope, optimism, and “better angels of our nature” solidarity, and he had just defeated Mitt Romney for another four years in the White House when Killing Them Softly hit theaters on Nov. 30. Cogan’s Trade had no political components, and no connections between the thieving and killing promulgated by these criminals and the country at large. Killing Them Softly, meanwhile, took every opportunity it could to chip away at the idea that a better life awaits us all if we just buy into the idea of American exceptionalism and pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps ingenuity. A fair amount of reviews didn’t hold back their loathing toward this approach. A.O. Scott with the New York Times dismissed Dominik’s frame as “a clumsy device, a feint toward significance that nothing else in the movie earns … the movie is more concerned with conjuring an aura of meaningfulness than with actually meaning anything.” Many critics lambasted Dominik’s nihilism: For Deadspin, Will Leitch called it a “crutch, and an awfully flimsy one,” while Richard Roeper thought the film collapsed under the “crushing weight” of Dominik’s philosophy. It was the beginning of Obama’s second term, and people still thought things might get better.

But Dominik’s film—like another that came out a few years earlier, Adam McKay’s 2010 political comedy The Other Guys—has maintained a crystalline kind of ideological purity, and perhaps gained a certain prescience. Its idea that America is less a bastion of betterment than a collection of corporate interests, and the simmering anger Brad Pitt’s Jackie Cogan captures in the film’s final moments, are increasingly difficult to brush off given the past decade or so in American life. This is not to say that Obama’s second term was a failure, but that it was defined over and over again by the limitations of top-down reform. Ceaseless Republican obstruction, widespread economic instability, and unapologetic police brutality marred the encouraging tenor of Obama’s presidency. Donald Trump’s subsequent four years in office were spent stacking the federal judiciary with young, conservative judges sympathetic toward his pro-big-business, fuck-the-little-guy approach, and his primary legislative triumph was a tax bill that will steadily hurt working-class people year after year.

The election of Obama’s vice president Joe Biden, and the Democratic Party securing control of the U.S. Senate, were enough for a brief sigh of relief in November 2020. The $1.9 trillion stimulus bill passed in March 2021 does a lot of good in extending (albeit lessened) unemployment benefits, providing a child credit to qualifying families, and funneling further COVID-19 support to school districts after a year of the coronavirus pandemic. But Republicans? They all voted no to helping the Americans they represent. Stimulus checks to the middle-class voters who voted Biden into office? Decreased for some, totally cut off for others, because of Biden’s appeasement to the centrists in his party. $15 minimum wage? Struck down, by both Republicans and Democrats. In how many more ways can those politicians who are meant to serve us indicate that they have little interest in doing anything of the kind?

Modern American politics, then, can be seen as quite a performative endeavor, and an exercise in passing blame. Who caused the economic collapse of 2008? Some bad actors, who the government bailed out. Who suffered the most as a result? Everyday Americans, many of whom have never recovered. Killing Them Softly mimics this dynamic, and emphasizes the gulf between the oppressors and the oppressed. The nameless elites of the mob, sending a middle manager to oversee their dirty work. The poker-game organizer, who must be brutally punished for a mistake made years before. The felons let down by the criminal justice system, who turn again to crime for a lack of other options. The hitman who brushes off all questions of morality, and whose primary concern is getting adequately paid for his work. Money, money, money. “This country is fucked, I’m telling ya. There’s a plague coming,” Jackie Cogan says to the Driver who delivers the mob’s by-committee rulings as to who Jackie should intimidate, threaten, and kill so their coffers can start getting filled again. Perhaps the plague is already here.

“Total fucking economic collapse.”

In terms of pure gumption, you have to applaud Dominik for taking aim at some of the biggest myths America likes to tell about itself. After analyzing the dueling natures of fame and infamy through the lens of American outlaw mystique in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Dominik thought bigger, taking on the entire American dream itself in Killing Them Softly. From the film’s very first second, Dominik doesn’t hold back, equating an easy path of forward progress with literal trash. Discordant tones and the film’s stark, white-on-black title cards interrupt Presidential hopeful Barack Obama’s speech about “the American promise,” slicing apart Obama’s words and his crowd’s responding cheers as felon Frankie (Scoot McNairy), in the all-American outfit of a denim jacket and jeans, cuts through what looks like a shut-down factory, debris and garbage blowing around him. Obama’s assurances sound very encouraging indeed: “Each of us has the freedom to make of our own lives what we will.” But when Frankie—surrounded by trash, cigarette dangling from his mouth, and eyes squinting shut against the wind—walks under dueling billboards of Obama, with the word “CHANGE” in all-caps, and Republican opponent John McCain, paired with the phrase “KEEPING AMERICA STRONG,” a better future doesn’t exactly seem possible. Frankie looks too downtrodden, too weary of all the emptiness around him, for that.

Dominik and cinematographer Greig Fraser spoke to American Cinematographer magazine in October 2012 about shooting in post-Hurricane Katrina New Orleans: “We were aiming for something generic, a little town between New Orleans, Boston and D.C. that we called Shitsville. We wanted the place to look like it’s on the down-and-down, on the way out. We wanted viewers to feel just how smelly and grimy and horrible it was, but at the same time, we didn’t want to alienate them visually.” They were successful: Every location has a rundown quality, from the empty lot in which Frankie waits for friend and partner-in-crime Russell (Ben Mendelsohn)—a concrete expanse decorated with a couple of wooden chairs, as if people with nowhere else to go use this as a gathering spot—to the dingy laundromat backroom where Frankie and Russell meet with criminal mastermind Johnny “Squirrel” Amato (Vincent Curatola), who enlists them to rob a mafia game night run by Markie Trattman (Ray Liotta), to the restaurant kitchen where the game is run, all sickly fluorescent lights, cracked tile, and makeshift tables. Holding up a game like this, from which the cash left on the tables flows upward into the mob’s pockets, is dangerous indeed. But years before, Markie himself engineered a robbery of the game, and although that transgression was forgiven because of how well-liked Markie is in this institution, it would be easy to lay the blame on him again. And that’s exactly what Squirrel, Frankie, and Russell plan to do.

The “Why?” for such a risk isn’t that hard to figure out. Squirrel sees an opportunity to make off with other people’s money, he knows that any accusatory fingers will point elsewhere first, and he wants to act on it before some other aspiring baddie does. (Ahem, sound like the 2008 mortgage crisis to you?) Frankie, tired of the crappy jobs his probation officer keeps suggesting—jobs that require both long hours and a long commute, when Frankie can’t even afford a car (“Why the fuck do they think I need a job in the first place? Fucking assholes”)—is drawn in by desperation borne from a lack of options. If he doesn’t come into some kind of money soon, “I’m gonna have to go back and knock on the gate and say, ‘Let me back in, I can’t think of nothing and it’s starting to get cold,’” Frankie admits. And Australian immigrant and heroin addict Russell is nursing his own version of the American dream: He’s going to steal a bunch of purebred dogs, drive them down to Florida to sell for thousands of dollars, buy an ounce of heroin once he has $7,000 in hand, and then step on the heroin enough to become a dealer. It’s only a few moves from where he is to where he wants to be, he figures, and this card-game heist can help him get there.

In softly lit rooms, where the men in the frame are in focus and their surroundings and backgrounds are slightly blown out, slightly blurred, or slightly fuzzy (“Creaminess is something you feel you can enter into, like a bath; you want to be absorbed and encompassed by it” Fraser told American Cinematographer of his approach), garish deals are made, and then somehow pulled off with a sobering combination of ineptitude and ugliness. Russell buys yellow dishwashing gloves for himself and Frankie to wear during the holdup, and they look absurd—but the pistol-whipping Russell doles out to Markie still hurts like hell, no matter what accessories he’s wearing. Dominik gives this holdup the paranoia and claustrophobia it requires, revolving his camera around the barely-holding-it-together Frankie and cutting every so often to the enraged players, their eyes glancing up to look at Frankie’s face, their hands twitching toward their guns. But in the end, nobody moves. When Frankie and Russell add insult to injury by picking the players’ pockets (“It’s only money,” they say, as if this entire ordeal isn’t exclusively about wanting other people’s money), nobody fights back. Nobody dies. Frankie and Russell make off with thousands of dollars in two suitcases, while Markie is left bamboozled—and afraid—by what just happened. And the players? They’ll get their revenge eventually. You can count on that.

So it goes that Dominik smash cuts us from the elated and triumphant Russell and Frankie driving away from the heist in their stolen 1971 Buick Riviera, its headlights interrupting the inky-black night, to the inside of Jackie Cogan’s 1967 Oldsmobile Toronado, with Johnny Cash’s “The Man Comes Around” providing an evocative accompaniment. “There’s a man going around taking names/And he decides who to free, and who to blame/Everybody won’t be treated all the same,” Cash sings in that unmistakably gravelly voice, and that’s exactly what Jackie does. Called in by the mob to capture who robbed the game so that gambling can begin again, Jackie meets with an unnamed character, referred to only as the Driver (Richard Jenkins), who serves as the mob’s representative in these sorts of matters. Unlike the other criminals in this film—Frankie, with his tousled hair and sheepish face; Russell, with his constant sweatiness and dog-funk smell; Jackie, in his tailored three-piece suits and slicked-back hair; Markie, with those uncannily blue eyes and his matching slate sportscoat—the Driver looks like a square.

He is, like the men who replace Mike Milligan in the second season of Fargo, a kind of accountant, a man with an office and a secretary. “The past can no more become the future than the future can become the past,” Milligan had said, and for all the backward-looking details of Killing Them Softly—American cars from the 1960s and 1970s, that whole masculine code-of-honor thing that Frankie and Russell break by ripping off Markie’s game, the post-industrial economic slump that brings to mind the American recession of 1973 to 1975—the Driver is very much an arm of a new kind of organized crime. He keeps his hands clean, and he delivers what the ruling-by-committee organized criminals decide, and he’s fussy about Jackie smoking cigarettes in his car, and he’s so bland as to be utterly forgettable. And he has the power, as authorized by his higher-ups, to approve Jackie putting pressure on Markie for more information about the robbery. It doesn’t matter that neither Jackie nor the mob thinks Markie actually did it. What matters more is that “People are losing money. They don’t like to lose money,” and so Jackie can do whatever he needs. Dominik gives him this primacy through a beautiful shot of Jackie’s reflection in the car window, his aviators a glinting interruption to the gray concrete overpass under which the Driver’s car is parked, to the smoke billowing out from faraway stacks, and to the overall gloominess of the day.

“We regret having to take these actions. Today’s actions are not what we ever wanted to do, but today’s actions are what we must do to restore confidence to our financial system,” we hear Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson say on the radio in the Driver’s car, and his October 14, 2008, remarks are about the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act of 2008—the government bailout of banks and other financial institutions that cost taxpayers $700 billion. (Remember Will Ferrell’s deadpan delivery in The Other Guys of “From everything I’ve heard, you guys [at the Securities and Exchange Commission] are the best at these types of investigations. Outside of Enron and AIG, and Bernie Madoff, WorldCom, Bear Stearns, Lehman Brothers ...”) Yet the appeasing sentiment of Paulson’s words applies to Jackie, too, and to the beating he orders for Markie—a man he suspects did nothing wrong, at least not this time. But debts must be settled. Heads must roll. “Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still/Whoever is righteous, let him be righteous still/Whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still,” Cash sang, and Jackie is all those men, and he’ll collect the stolen golden crowns as best he can. For a price, of course. Always for a price.

“I like to kill them softly, from a distance, not close enough for feelings. Don’t like feelings. Don’t want to think about them.”

In “Bad Dreams,” the penultimate episode of the second season of The Wire, International Brotherhood of Stevedores union representative Frank Sobotka (Chris Bauer), having seen his brothers in arms made immaterial by the lack of work at the Baltimore ports and the collapse of their industry, learns that his years of bribing politicians to vote for expanded funding for the longshoremen isn’t going to pay off. He is furious, and he is exhausted. “We used to make shit in this country, build shit. Now we just put our hand in the next guy’s pocket,” he says with the fatigue of a man who knows his time has run out, and you can draw a direct line from Bauer’s beleaguered delivery of those lines to Liotta’s aghast reaction to the horrendous beating he receives from Jackie’s henchmen. Sobotka in The Wire had no idea how he got to that helpless place, and neither does Markie in Killing Them Softly—he made a mistake, but that was years ago. Everyone forgave him. Didn’t they?

The vicious assault leveled upon Markie is a harrowing, horrifying sequence that is also unnervingly beautiful, and made all the more awful as a result of that visual splendor. In the pouring rain, Markie is held captive by the two men, who deliver bruising body shots, break his noise, batter his body against the car, and kick in his ribs. “You see fight scenes a lot in movies, but you don’t see people systematically beating somebody else. The idea was just to make it really, really, really ugly,” Dominik told the New York Times in November 2012, and sound mixer Leslie Shatz and cinematographer Fraser also contributed to this unforgettable scene. Shatz used the sound of a squeegee across a windshield to accentuate Markie’s increasingly destroyed body slumping against the car, and also incorporated flash bulbs going off as punches were thrown, adding a kind of lingering effect to the scene’s soundscape. And although the scene looks like it’s shot in slow motion, Fraser explained to American Cinematographer that the combination of an overhead softbox and dozens of background lights helped build that layered effect in which Liotta is fully illuminated while the dark night around him remains impenetrable. Every drop of rain and every splatter of blood stands out on Markie’s face as he confesses ignorance regarding the robbery and begs for mercy from Jackie’s men, but Markie has already been marked for death. When the time comes, Jackie will shoot him in the head in another exquisitely detailed, shot-in-ultrahigh-speed scene that bounces back and forth between the initial act of violence and its ensuing destruction. The cartridges flying out of Jackie’s gun, and the bullets destroying Markie’s window, and then his brain. Markie’s car, now no longer in his control, rolling forward into an intersection where it’s hit not just once, but twice, by oncoming cars. The crunching sound of Markie’s head against his windshield, and the vision of that glass splintering from the impact of his flung body, are impossible to shake.

“Cause and effect,” Dominik seems to be telling us, and Killing Them Softly follows Jackie as he cleans up the mess Squirrel, Frankie, and Russell have made. After he enlists another hitman, Mickey (a fantastically whoozy James Gandolfini, who carries his bulk like the armor of a samurai searching for a new master), whose constant boozing, whoring, and laziness shock Jackie after years of successful work together, and who refuses to do the killing for which Jackie secured him a $15,000 payday, Jackie realizes he’ll need to do this all himself. He’ll need to gather the intel that fingers Frankie, Russell, and Squirrel. He’ll need to set up a police sting to entrap Russell on his purchased ounce of heroin, violating the terms of his probation, and he’ll need to set up another police sting to entrap Mickey for getting in a fight with a prostitute, violating the terms of his probation. For Jackie, a career criminal for whom ethical questions have long since evaporated, Russell’s and Frankie’s sloppiness in terms of bragging about their score is a source of disgust. “I guess these guys, they just want to go to jail. They probably feel at home there,” he muses, and he’s then exasperated by the Driver’s trepidation regarding the brutality of his methods. Did the Driver’s bosses want the job done or not? “We aim to please,” Jackie smirks, and that shark smile is the sign of a predator getting ready to feast.

Things progress rapidly then: Jackie tracks Frankie down to the bar where he hangs out, and sneers at Frankie’s reticence to turn on Squirrel. “They’re real nice guys,” he says mockingly to Frankie of the criminal underworld of which they’re a part, brushing off Frankie’s defense that Squirrel “didn’t mean it.” “That’s got nothing to do with it. Nothing at all,” Jackie replies, and that’s the kind of distance that keeps Jackie in this job. Sure, the vast majority of us aren’t murderers. But as a question of scale, aren’t all of us as workers compromised in some way? Employees of companies, institutions, or billionaires that, say, pollute the environment, or underpay their staff, or shirk labor laws, or rake in unheard-of profits during an international pandemic? Or a government that spreads imperialism through allegedly righteous military action (referenced in Killing Them Softly, as news coverage of the economic crisis mentions the reckless rapidity with which President George W. Bush invaded Afghanistan and Iraq after Sept. 11, 2001), or that can’t quite figure out how to house the nation’s homeless into the millions of vacant homes sitting empty around the country, or that refuses, over and over again, to raise the minimum wage workers are paid so that they have enough financial security to live decent lives?

Perhaps you bristle at this comparison to Jackie Cogan, a man who has no qualms blowing apart Squirrel with a shotgun at close range, or unloading a revolver into Frankie after spending an evening driving around with him. But the guiding American principle when it comes to work is that you do a job and you get paid: It’s a very simple contract, and both sides need to operate in good faith to fulfill it. Salaried employees, hourly workers, freelancers, contractors, day laborers, the underemployed—all operate under the assumption that they’ll be compensated, and all live with the fear that they won’t. Jackie knows this, as evidenced by his loathing toward compatriot Kenny (Slaine) when the man tries to pocket the tip Jackie left for his diner waitress. “For fuck’s sake,” Jackie says in response to Kenny’s attempted theft, and you can sense that if Jackie could kill him in that moment, he would. In this way, Jackie is rigidly conservative, and strictly old-school. Someone else’s money isn’t yours to take; it’s your responsibility to earn, and your employer’s responsibility to pay. Jackie cleaned up the mob’s mess, and the gambling tables opened again because of his work, and his labor resulted in their continued profits. And Jackie wants what he’s owed.

“Don’t make me laugh. ‘We’re one people.’”

We hear two main voices of authority urging calm throughout Killing Them Softly. Then-President Bush: “I understand your worries and your frustration. … We’re in the midst of a serious financial crisis, and the federal government is responding with decisive action.” Presidential hopeful Obama: “There’s only the road we’re traveling on as Americans.” Paulson speaks on the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act, and various news commentators chime in, too: “There needs to be consequences, and there needs to be major change.” Radio commentary and C-SPAN coverage combine into a sort of secondary accompaniment to Marc Streitenfeld’s score, which incorporates lyrically germane Big Band standards like “Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries” (“You work, you save, you worry so/But you can’t take your dough”) and “It’s Only a Paper Moon” (“It's a Barnum and Bailey world/Just as phony as it can be”). All of these are Dominik’s additions to Cogan’s Trade, which is a slim, 19-chapter book without any political angle, and this frame is what met so much resistance from contemporaneous reviews.

But what Dominik accomplishes with this approach is twofold. First, a reminder of the ceaseless tension and all-encompassing anxiety of that time, which would spill into the Occupy Wall Street movement, coalesce support around politicians like Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren, and fuel growing national interest in policies like universal health care and universal basic income. For anyone who struggled during that time—as I did, a college graduate entering the 2009 job market after the journalism industry was already beginning its still-continuing freefall—Killing Them Softly captures the free-floating anger so many of us felt at politicians bailing out corporations rather than people. Perhaps in 2012, only weeks after the re-election of Obama and with the potential that his second term could deliver on some of his campaign promises (closing Guantanamo Bay, maybe, or passing significant gun control reform, maybe), this cinematic scolding felt like medicine. But nearly a decade later, with neither of these legislative successes in hand, and with the wins for America’s workers so few and far between—still a $7.25 federal minimum wage, still no federal paid maternity and family leave act, still the refusal by many states to let their government employees unionize—if you don’t feel demoralized by how often the successes of the Democratic Party are stifled by the party’s own moderates or thoroughly curtailed by saboteur Republicans, maybe you’re not paying attention.

More acutely, then, the mutinous spirit of Killing Them Softly accomplishes something similar to what 1990’s Pump Up the Volume did: It allows one to say, with no irony whatsoever, “Do you ever get the feeling everything in America is completely fucked up?” The disparities of the financial system, and the yawning gap between the rich and the poor. The utter lack of accountability toward those who were supposed to protect us, and didn’t. And the sense that we’re always being a little bit cheated by a ruling class who, like Sobotka observed on The Wire, is always putting their hand in our pocket. Consider Killing Them Softly’s quietest moment, in which Frankie realizes that he’s a hunted man, and that the people from whom he stole would never let him live. Dominik frames McNairy tight, his expression a flickering mixture of plaintive yearning and melancholic regret, as he quietly says, “It’s just shit, you know? The world is just shit. We’re all just on our own.” A day or so later, McNairy’s Frankie will be lying on a medical examiner’s table, his head partially collapsed from a bullet to the brain, an identification tag looped around his pinky toe. And the men who ordered his death want to underpay the man who carried it out for them. Isn’t that the shit?

That leads us, then, to the film’s angriest moment, and to a scene that stands alongside the climaxes of so many other post-recession films: Chris Pine’s Toby Howard paying off the predatory bank that swindled his mother with its own stolen money in Hell or High Water, Lakeith Stanfield’s Cash Green and his fellow Equisapiens storming billionaire Steve Lift’s (Armie Hammer’s) mansion in Sorry to Bother You, Viola Davis’s Veronica Rawlings shooting her cheating husband and keeping the heist take for herself and her female comrades in Widows. So far in Killing Them Softly, Pitt has played Jackie with a certain level of remove. A man’s got to have a code, and his is fairly simple: Don’t get involved emotionally with the assignment. Pitt’s Jackie is susceptible to flashes of irritation, though, that manifest as a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and as an octave-lower growl that belies his impatience: with the Driver, for not understanding how Markie’s reputation has doomed him; with Mickey, for his procrastination and his slovenliness; with Kenny, for stealing a hardworking woman’s tip; with Frankie, when he tries to distract Jackie from killing Squirrel. Jackie is a professional, and he is intolerant of people failing to work at his level, and Pitt plays the man as tiptoeing along a knife’s edge. Remember Daniel Craig’s “’Cause it’s all so fucking hysterical” line delivery in Road to Perdition? Pitt’s whole performance is that: a hybrid offering of bemusement, smugness, and ferocity that suggests a man who’s seen it all, and hasn’t been impressed by much.

In the final minutes of Killing Them Softly, Obama has won his historic first term in the White House, and Pitt’s Jackie strides through a red haze of celebratory fireworks as he walks to meet the Driver at a bar to retrieve payment. An American flag hangs in this dive, and the TV broadcasts Obama’s victory speech, delivered in Chicago to a crowd of more than 240,000. “Crime stories, to some extent, always felt like the capitalist ideal in motion,” Dominik told the New York Times. “Because it’s the one genre where it’s perfectly acceptable for the characters to be motivated solely by money.” And so it goes that Jackie feels no guilt for the men he’s killed, or the men he’s sent away. Nor does he feel any empathy or kinship with the newly elected Obama, whose messages of unity and community he finds amusingly irrelevant. The life Jackie lives is one defined by how little people value each other, and how quick they are to attack one another if that means more opportunity—and more money—for them. Thomas Hobbes said that a life without social structure and political representation would be “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short,” and perhaps that’s exactly what Jackie’s is. Unlike the character in Cogan’s Trade, Dominik’s Jackie has no wife and no personal life. But he’s surviving this way with his eyes wide open, and he will not be undervalued.

The contrast between Obama’s speech about “the enduring power of our ideas—democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope”—and Jackie’s realization that the mob is trying to underpay him for the three men he assassinated at their behest makes for a kind of nauseating, thrilling coda. He’s owed $45,000, and the envelope the Driver paid him only has $30,000 in it. Obama’s audience chanting “Yes, we can,” the English translation of the United Farm Workers of America’s slogan and the activist César Chávez’s iconic “Sí, se puede” catchphrase, adds an ironic edge to the argument between the Driver and Jackie about the value of his labor. Whatever the Driver can use to try and shrug off Jackie’s advocacy for himself, he will. Jackie’s killings were too messy. Jackie is asking for more than the mob’s usual enforcer, Dillon (Sam Shepard), who would have done a better job. Jackie is ignoring that the mob is limited to “Recession prices”—they’re suffering, so that suffering has to trickle down to someone. Jackie made the deal with Mickey for $15,000 per head, and the mob isn’t beholden to pay Jackie what they agreed to pay Mickey.

On and on, excuse after excuse, until one finally pushes Jackie over the edge: “This business is a business of relationships,” the Driver says, which is one step away from the “We’re all family here” line that so many abusive companies use to manipulate their cowed employees. And so when Jackie goes coolly feral in his response, dropping knowledge not only about the artifice of the racist Thomas Jefferson as a Founding Father but underscoring the idea that America has always been, and will always be, a capitalist enterprise first, the moment slaps all the harder for all the ways we know we’ve been let down by feckless bureaucrats like the Driver, who do only as they’re told; by faceless corporate overlords like the mob, issuing orders to Jackie from on high; and by a broader country that seems like it couldn’t care less about us. “I’m living in America, and in America, you’re on your own … Now fucking pay me” serves as a kind of clarion call, an expression of vehemence and resentment, and a direct line into the kind of anger that still festers among those continuously left behind—still living in Shitstown, still trying to make a better life for themselves, and still asking for a little more respect from their fellow Americans. For all of Killing Them Softly’s ugliness, for all its nihilism, and for all its commentary on how our country’s ruthless individualism has turned chasing the American dream into a crippling addiction we all share, that demand for dignity remains distressingly relevant. Maybe it’s time to listen.

[divinerivals]

Fire Like Sin

Written for @fateandluminary​ 

Prompt Request: Jurdan- “Horns”- Bryce Fox 

I basically listened to this song on repeat until I stopped typing. 

WARNING NSFW CONTENT BELOW

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Cardan strode into the heady club, smoke swirling around him as he moved passed the hoard of desire-driven patrons. This was madness, utter madness. If they were going to make a break for it, it was the only way.

The first time he watched her wrapped that damned silken leg around the silvered pole as she spun round and round. Her hair cascading down to the stage and two makeshift horns styled atop her head, he had become entranced. Then her bronzed eyes locked on to his. From the moment they made contact on that fateful evening she had damned the very air he breathed. It was like the black mark on his soul had a match with the then stranger. The first month of her dancing he watched her in an obsessive annoyance as she had called it. He recognized the anger and fury roiling in her. The cold as ice blood and stone heart too. Cardan knew it so well because he was the same on the inside. Just a pit of blackness using his tongue, liquor, and sex to get through his fucked up life. Until her.

Several months ago, Jude Duarte cornered him in a private room saved for the higher paying customers. They argued, voices hoarse as screaming at each other. Over a patron who touched her in a way that made Cardan’s blood boil. He had no grounds to step in. He should have let her make the mistake, yet he couldn’t help it. The youngest Greenbriar chose to express it as Jude being property to not be touched. That she belonged to the Hollow, to his brother Balekin. Until she paid off her debt. And no one was to touch her less they pay for it. Locke was a dirty patron Cardan knew didn’t pay it. Jude raised her hand, striking him across the cheek. Every fiber of being filled with heat and lust. It was then Cardan realized he was insane. The smart thing would’ve been to get Balekin. He did no such thing. She was his tinder, and he, her flint.

Cardan gripped her arm, then the flint struck against tinder, igniting the sparks that led to burning flames. Crushing his mouth onto hers, bruising those lips he’s dreamed of since he first saw them. those smooth lush lips and the teeth behind them that grazed and pulled on his own. She never backed away. Only pushing into him further and further. He could taste the want and desperation on her as her tongue rolled around his. The need to feel alive. They were alone and he opened the way for Jude to get everything she needed. At that time it meant nothing. He meant nothing. Cardan didn’t care how or when she wanted him. All he knew was she was a tempting sin that he couldn’t resist. Horns like a devil, mouth as wicked as one too. He would sell his darkened soul to this she-devil if only to experience this high again and again.

He was undone. Forever.

Now he sits in the same leather seat that started this all. The very same that begun his fascination with her. When all he did was pleasure himself to wicked thoughts of her body and his. To bringing those dreams to life where they both used each other's bodies purely for distraction. The feelings, the deep-seated affection, and love came after. Until Balekin found out and Cardan was attacked brutally by him. Struck repeatedly till his bones screamed in agony for sleeping with his brother’s prized dancer. Balekin tripled her debt to a price even Cardan couldn’t pay off. Cardan was stuck in the hospital for a week as he and Jude discussed plans to leave Insmire behind and for good. Jude wanted to kill the bastard for what he did to Cardan. His face swollen and bloodied so badly she hardly recognized the devastatingly handsome features underneath. Cardan said no. He didn’t want his brother’s death on her hands nor did he want them to be running all their lives. Cardan had enough money for them to leave Elfhame and the city of Insmoor behind. To live on a new continent where the name Greenbriar was just another name.

On the outside, he looked calm and ready for this. To bolt like hell when her dance was done. On the inside he felt the burning rise of bile, his stomach churning and anxiousness rippling through his veins. After this, they would be freed from a hellish paradise to a heavenly one. Cardan was sure after the grueling and horrid things he and Jude have done in their lives that neither deserves such a thing. They didn’t care, They were sneaking their way out to freedom. Lights turned low as the deep red lights shined on the black curtain before him. The bass began to fill the room vibrating within his chest. Cardan had to stifle the grin when he heard the song play. Horns, the one he played for her in his apartment claiming it reminded him of her. Of how it described the way she burst into miserable life, She laughed crawling on top over his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Cardan shook away from the pleasurable memory. This wasn’t the time to reminisce he needed to keep alert and focused. Hell, he hadn’t even touched his wine, only ordering for show. The curtains pulled apart and there his wonderfully wicked lady stood. Her last and final dance, she was to make a show of it. As the bass thundered around them, Cardan only saw her, as he knew she did the same. Mother above the costume choice, Jude truly took the song and magnified it. Hair darkened by the light fell in long waves, except for those horns of hers styled upward with a slight edge. Desperately he longed to grip her hair of horns and fuck her ruthlessly. That would come later when they were safely away.

She sauntered down the shimmering black catwalk in eight-inch heels that melded from red to black and red again. His darkened gaze followed up from her accentuated legs to barely-there garment hugging on her hips, showing off the curves of her ass and hips for all the world to see. Her breasts generously spilling over from the center of the bra, if one could call it that. Both pieces black with a glittering crimson throughout. Good. She kept it as practical as she could without raising too much attention. Jude’s lips were of the deepest scarlet, and eyelids covered in the darkest of blacks. Her gaze met Cardan’s as is if to speak one single word.

Soon.

Yes, soon they would be away from abusive family and men who leered at Jude while she moved her body in tantalizing ways. Wishing to eat her alive. What these men didn’t know, was Jude would do the same and leave their corpses in her wake. In minutes they would be away from here and the grimy streets of Insmoor City. Jude reached up to the top of her pole and begun her dance.

Her legs spread wide, for her audience. The whistles came and so did the money being thrown to the stage as he wrapped her legs around the pole, arching her back upward. Her palms trailing up the expanse of her body grasping her breasts in the movement. Winking and blowing kisses at no one in particular. She was making it difficult for him to focus. With the way, she grasped at her soft mounds. The same way Cardan did when he plowed into her and Jude’s leg wrapped around him. His mouth hot on her neck. He shook his head once more watching with wanton intensity. Listening to people around him shouting at her to remove more. He fought the envy roiling inside him at the demanding, pleading requests. Cardan watched her glide round and round on the pole like it was a slide. She gripped the metal once more flinging her body around and curling herself inward before slipping to the stage. On all fours she crawled towards him, eyes sharp and glowing like a predator hunting her prey.

Cardan leaned back in the cushioned, worn leather as Jude climbed on to him in a sensual fluid motion. Her hands sliding up his thighs, reaching in between palming at his half-hard cock. His hands steadied on her hips, the tips of his fingers pressing into her ass, Jude rolled her hips tipping her head back simultaneously against him. Winding her fingers through his thick onyx locks angling his head where she could run her hot mouth and fire breaths over his neck and to his lobe.

“Do me and my two horns give you a little bit?” that lustful wickedness pouring out of her, her fingers dropped back down stroking his length over his slacks, “I guess so.”

“Fuck Jude,” he growled.

She kept grinding her hips over his, As she pl toyed with his hair. Nails raking along his hairline as if he was another customer, "Did you do it?”

He resisted every urge in his body screaming at him to claim her mouth, bury himself in her witnessing Jude turn into a mess of keen moans and panting breaths. Give these people a real show. It wasn't beneath him to do so. His brother's cronies were in the shadows and leaving held priority.

"Out like a light," the scorching touch of his palms splayed on her bareback, sliding to the nape of her neck. Jude lifted a leg in front of him, twisting around her back against his solid frame. Cardan pulled Jude flush to him. Nose brushing along her shoulder replacing the path with his mouth then his teeth, nipping at her exposed his flesh, "The ghost said he gave enough for him to be out cold for 8-10 hours, " he murmured into her ear, "By then we will be gone."

Jude turned to face him. A smirk on her rouge colored lips resolve and excitement dancing in her eyes at the unknowing future, gone the face of a broken exotic dancer who lost everything and everyone. Cardan pretended to whisper sultry nothings in her ear. She giggled perfectly playing the part of a flirty dancer.

"Good. I'm done dancing," Jude slipped her hand in his, tugging up him from his seat, "Ready?"

"My dearest Jude, lead the way."

He followed her like he was another drunk patron, paying for extra services. They maneuvered through the crowd and no one paid the pair no mind. Slipping past a waitress with a tray of drinks in her hand, Jude pulled Cardan onto her in a small alcove. Her eyes searched his. A moment of sincerity crossed onto her features.

"Card, if he finds us. I won't hesitate to kill him," it wasn't a threat, but a promise.

"I know. Let's hope he doesn't," he knew she would. If not for the determination in her tone, but the fact she swore it daily, "Shall we?"

Bracing an arm on the door, the other curling around her waist. His mouth meeting hers in a hungry kiss, teeth, and tongues clashing, acting the way a drunk patron would if she was going to take him. Jude reached for the knob, twisting it, while Cardan kept her close, and together they slipped through the doorway into the cool night air.

                            ******************************************************

Available on ao3

would anyone be interested to see this continue??

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[ezekielbhandarivalleros]

From this prompt list Jake x Jackie ... Angst #1 or #8 or both, if you feel up to it my friend.

Last Fight

Paring: Jake Tweneboah x Jackie Varma

Summary: Random fight scene I came up with these two in mind for these two, Don't worry this isn't part of the original series

Rated - M

Taglist: @princess-geek @schnitzelbutterfingers @daddyethanramsey @yourresidentplayer @robbies-sutcliffe @aussieez @choicesficwriterscreations

Jackie called out to the dark haired man who was walking away. His footsteps were quiet against the ground, but each and every one resonated terrible fear and desperation within the girl's soul. This couldn't be happening! She needed him! He couldn't do this!

He didn't stop. He just kept walking. Every footstep against the ground was like a dagger in her heart. She knew that Jake only thought of her as an annoyance, someone who was always in his way, holding him back, weighing him down, but did she mean so little to him that he would walk away without even listening to what she had to say? Did he not respect her to give her even that?

But in her own heart, she felt a terrible twinge of fear. She knew deep in her soul, the part of her she hated existed, because it was a voice of truth, that Jake did believe the others would help him, would help him in his never ending quest for power and revenge. At one time, that fear would have held her back and bound her in silence and silent anguish. Now she ran forward, determined to not let Jake get away.

"Jake!" she called again, catching up to him and grabbing his shoulder, spinning him around.

Jake reacted immediately. He grabbed her wrist, spun her, and flung her away just as easily as if she was a rag. She landed on her feet and skidded and walked back to him, frightened by his strength and how easily he used it against her but it didn't deter her. Fear would no longer hold her back. Not when it came to Jake.

"What do you want, Jake, I have to go." He said, his voice cold and controlled like it always was.

Pain welled up inside her heart, like a fountain gushing water."Jake, you don't have to go." She said, her voice soft and pleading. "You don't have to do this, why did you lie to me."

"Yes I do. You will never understand Jackie. Just go. Go back to Boston and leave me to this." He turned to walk away.

"No!" she yelled. She snatched him again and this time didn't let him throw her off. She held onto him and grabbed a fistful of his  black hair, hair she'd dreamed of touching for years. "Listen to me, it's not worth it! If you go to him, you will be throwing your entire life away! Please, believe me!"

He pushed her off again, breaking their contact. She could see his black eyes hardening up, but his tone was still the same as it always was. Cold and reserved.

"It's worth it to me." He said, no emotion passing across his face. Jake’s body shook, hearing the utter clarity in the man's voice.

"Jake, please. Don't do this." She begged. She was so close to tears, but she was determined not to cry. Crying was weak to Jake. If he didn't hate her now, he would after she started crying, she was sure of it.

"Why not, Jackie? This is what I want." He said calmly, tucking his hands lightly into his pockets, staring at her with his black eyes, so cool and calm, like nothing was happening. Like her world wasn't crashing down around her.

"I love you, Jake." She whispered, staring straight into his eyes, her hands clenching into fists at her sides as a breeze ruffled her pink hair. "I love you and I'm willing to do whatever I have to do."

"To do what?" Jake asked lazily, his tone projecting boredom. Every word chipped a part of her heart away and crushed it, but she didn't care. She loved him. She wasn't going to lose him.

"To stay with you." She whispered. She knew she was signing away the only chance of respect he might ever give her. She realized it. But it didn't matter. She wasn't going to lose him, not if she had anything to say about it.

He did the worst possible thing he could do. He did the thing that made her heart go from being chipped away at to being shattered in the space of about five second.

He laughed.

He laughed, his cold hard chuckle bubbling past his lips, taking dagger like claws to her heart and shredding it into hundreds of pieces. Beneath her skin, her body was screaming in emotional agony. She hated that he could do this to her. but even more, she hated that she still loved him.

"You used to not even like me, Jackie." He said coldly, his laughter fading. "You don't know me, and you won't ever know me. Y, won't ever know me, because you all like to create the same lie about me to yourself, just so you can like me. Well, you can spare yourself the trouble. I don't need to be liked by any of you. I really couldn't care less." He hissed the word. "I have an ambition, and that's the only thing that matters."

"Then I'll help you!" Jackie pleaded as he started to turn to walk away. "I'll help you! I'll do whatever you want, whatever you ask. I'll help you kill the man you're after. I'll go with you, come live with you." She said, trying to keep the stuttering out of her voice, amazed at herself that she could say something so revolting so easily when it came to Jake

He snorted. "I don't believe you."

He turned and started to walk away. She stood there, stunned for a moment before she lunged after him. Jackie grabbed a fist full of his shirt before he whirled and struck her hard in the head. She dropped to the ground like her bones had evaporated.

"Sorry, Jackie." He said, looking down at her. There was nothing in his tone to say that he meant it, but in his eyes, there was the tiniest flash of something other than his cold, unfeeling gaze. There was something lurking beneath the dark light that usually glinted there.

It gave her hope. It gave her the smallest sense of hope. And for now, that would have to be enough.

This was it. It had come to this. She was going to have to kill him. She was going to have to kill Jake. The man she'd loved, the only one she'd ever loved, who she still loved, even after all this time. She was going to have to kill him, because if she didn't, he was going to destroy everything she'd fought for her in her entire life. And as much as she loved him, his life was not worth the lives of the people who she was fighting for now. And no matter what, that was the brutal truth, and she wasn't going to let him destroy anything else important to her.

"You think you can kill me?" Jake scoffed at her. "You really think you can?"

"I know I can!" she snapped back. Jackie’s hand gripped her knife deftly, poised to lunge and strike.

"Liar." He hissed. And then they clashed.

It was a whirling blur of colors, lines, skin, hair, and burning flashing eyes as they fought with each other, trying to land a blow. Jackie's body worked in double overtime, trying to keep up with Jake speed and strength, not to mention his large coat which was going to make it next to impossible to land any hits onl him.

"Is that the best you can do, Jackie?" he taunted her as they finally split and broke apart, standing several feet away, gasping for air after their furious clash.

Jackie straightened her body and glared at him, readjusting her grip on the knife. "Is that the best you can do, Jackie? You can kill your best friend, but you can't kill me?"

She knew the jab would make him fly into a rage. She was counting on that anger to make him blind, and in that blindness, she'd have one change. She made tiny, but necessary adjustments to her stance in the heartbeat of time it took for Jake to throw himself at her, hatred burning in his now red eyes.

They crashed to the floor, rolling repeatedly. Jackie seized her moment. She flung herself on top of Jake and rendered him immobile, pinning his body down with her weight, using her knees to crush his shoulders, making him howl with pain. The sound grated against her ears as she now laid her knife against his pale, sweat slicked throat.

He looked up at her, hatred, pain and something else shining in his unnervingly red eyes, even as he squirmed beneath her. "You can't do it!" he laughed at her.  His whole body seemed to shake with the force of his laughter, and every peal made her body burn.

She hated him, and she loved him, and what she hated more was that she wanted to be like him. She wanted to not care. She wanted to not feel anything so she could be with him. So she could protect everybody else she cared about.  He knew she couldn't do it, and he was mocking her because of it. How could he be so cruel?

Because someone had been this cruel to him.

That realization hit her so hard in that moment, it threatened to break her. "No." She said, looking down at him, her eyes moist with tears.

"You can still change." Jackie whispered, staring straight into his red eyes. "You can still change."

"You don't get it!" he spat at her, anger coloring his tone, all trace of laughter gone. "None of you have ever understood! And that's why I hate you all! If you would just understand and accept the fact that I can’t change!"

He thrust her away, his amazing strength almost able to throw her clear across the room. She crashed to the floor and he was on her in a split second. He kicked her knife away and snatched her up by the throat.

"Understand this. I hate you all because none of you understand that this is what I am. This is me. Everything you see is me! And you are as sick as I am if you truly care about me."

Her heart was broken inside her chest, and she began to no longer see a reason to exist. Oh how she wished she didn't care! Why did she have to care? Why couldn't she be like him? He cared about nothing, and she knew he never cried for any of his old Team. But she cried for him, so many times that she was sure her tears could have filled a small ocean. If she didn't care, she could kill or leave him and he would never be able to hurt anybody else ever again.

But she did care. Even now, as he was killing her, she did care. She still cared about him and she knew, even if she had another chance, she wouldn't be able to kill him.

She was vaguely aware of her body smashing into the ground as he flung her away. She lay there in a crumpled heap and finally let her tears spill down her face. She wept in her despair, knowing that she'd never reach the apathy she'd need in order to get though to Jake. That beautiful apathy that made everything as crystal clear as the tears that washed the blood from her lips.

(Thanks for the ask @secretaryunpaid)

[kozumekenza]

Saudade: 14.5 Midnight Memories (w)

Kageyama x Reader Social Media AU

Status: ongoing

Taglist: open!

TW: swearing, might be some nsfw jokes?

masterlist for this smau here!

playlist!

saudade: a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost; “the love that remains”

Y/N Oikawa, Toru Oikawa’s baby sister, manager of the Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club, stand-in libero, spiker, blocker, setter, and Tobio “The King of the Court” Kageyama’s former best friend. After Kageyama replaces your childhood friendship with volleyball, you vow to forget all about him. However, you forget three very important things: 1.) You won’t be able to avoid Kageyama forever 2.) Kageyama wants you back in his life and 3.) Tobio Kageyama will do anything to get what he wants.

Y/n’s texts are in light mode, Kageyama’s are in dark mode!

a/n: I love how this chapter turned out. It’s probably my favorite in the whole series. I’m gonna put a bit of background in the fun facts below!

You took your time walking to the dock at the park by your house. The past few days had been nice; getting a chance to be in your own head and sort out how you were feeling without any expectations was refreshing. Subconsciously, you knew what your decision would be. There was no doubt about it. You would not lose Kageyama when you had just gotten him back.

Yet, you still had your reservations. It was obvious that he cared for you, and maybe even loved you like he said he did, but there were still so many things that were left unresolved after your fight. You were both going to have to be brutally honest with each other for this to work.

You knew that you and Kageyama would be able to do it. Growing up, you were always completely honest with each other, telling one another things that you wouldn't dare whisper about around anyone else. So many secrets, even if many of them were just childish jokes that you thought were special at the time.

You sat down on the dock and reminisced on one of your most treasured memories.

Kageyama kissed you for the first and only time the summer before middle school started. You were both still kids, with a lot to learn about each other and the world. Your summer together had been picture-perfect; every kid's dream. You spent long, hot days biking to the park, playing volleyball in the grass and hopping into the lake to cool off. The summer was starting to wind down, but it was a day just like any other that summer. Kageyama had biked to your house that morning to pick you up, and you spent hours tossing the volleyball back and forth over an old net in the park. You ate sandwiches your mom had made the night before and ate popsicles from the gas station down the street. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was beating down when Kageyama suggested a swim. You were eager to cool off and ran off to the dock with him chasing you. You arrived first, and Kageyama pretended to push you off before pulling you back at the last minute. You had shrieked, drawing the attention of several people before Kageyama pushed you for real. You sputtered as you resurfaced, shaking your wet hair and yelling at Kageyama who was still dry on the dock above you. He just grinned as you grabbed his ankle and pulled him down. When he reemerged from the lake, he was sporting a softer grin that you didn't see very often. You were about to ask him what was wrong, but were caught by surprise when he pressed his lips against yours. You thought it was like any other typical childhood first kiss, just a momentary crash of lips before you both pulled away. He was embarrassed, and you didn't understand why. He apologized profusely as you both dried off and went back to the court, and you told him not to worry about it. You didn't think it was that big of a deal.

It's a funny thing, how memories change and adapt as you get older. You remembered thinking nothing of the kiss, after all, you were just kids. Now, however, you felt as if it was one of your core memories. You couldn't remember when you first fell in love with Kageyama, but now, looking back, maybe it was then.

They always say that childhood crushes and first loves lasting are things of fiction, but you like to believe otherwise. Maybe it was fate that put you and Kageyama together, maybe you were meant to be nothing but friends. Maybe you existed to complete one another, like how setters needed spikers. Maybe you were meant to fall in love. Maybe you were meant to be inseparable from this point on. Maybe there wasn't anything that was meant to be. Maybe it was up to you two to make something happen.

You started the trek back to your house, still deep in thought. You climbed to the top of the grassy hill in your backyard and laid on your back. The last time you were up here, you were thinking about spending the rest of your life without Kageyama by your side. Now, you felt as if you might have another chance.

You could have him by your side again. You could finish high school together and spend the summers together, just like the good old days. You could cheer for him at Nationals. You could watch him get scouted and graduate together. You could go to his first professional game and cheer him on. You could travel the world with him. You could go on adventure after adventure together and accomplish all of your goals. You could be with him for every high and every low. You could be with him for his first professional tournament, his first Olympics, and his last professional game. You could spend the rest of your lives together.

You could be with him while he achieved all his wildest dreams.

All you ever wanted was to see him get everything he ever dreamed of.

Your decision was made. It had been made for a long time. There were no other options, no one else for you in this big world. It was only you and Kageyama.

It always had been.

14.0 Brotherly Love Pt. 3 - 14.5 Midnight Memories (w) - 15.0 It Might Not Be Too Late (To Apologize) coming soon!

saudade masterlist!

FUN FACTS:

this chapter is heavily inspired by my own experience with “young love” (lol I feel so weird saying that) anyways, my bf and I grew up together and he wrote me a love note in elementary school, and now, years later, we live together with two dogs and a cat. it’s always been funny to me how things work out, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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