#i hate the Bobs that have threatened me all night over a fucking question

[chadillacboseman]

Summary: Part of the Vampire!Graves AU that @gloombride and I are currently going insane over. My original/first snippet is here. Graves is back from the dead and needs to find you. 141 has taken you for interrogation after hearing reports that the commander might be alive. Graves doesn't take kindly to your imprisonment. Reader is gender neutral, but the pet name "baby" is used.

Word Count: 5.1k!!!

Warnings: Oh boy! Major character death, blood, dismemberment, broken bones, vampirism, consumption of blood. The least offensive part of this is the use of guns lol. The moment Price and Graves interact, some pretty graphic descriptions of injury take place and continue until the end.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

--

"What do you know about Phillip Graves being alive?" Captain Price stood before you, his figure looming above your seated form, hands resting on his rifle.

"Nothing."

That was the truth. You'd spent the last two weeks mourning his death after his second in command had came to your door to notify you.

"Bullshit-" Soap piped up from across the room, his voice tinged with barely contained rage. Soap had been one of the few to know about you- Graves had pulled a weathered photo of you from his pocket to show him the night before they'd taken down El Sin Nombre.

"That's my whole world right there," Graves grinned and ran a thumb absentmindedly over your face in the photo, "Gonna make it home safe just to see that face again."

"Didn't peg ya for one to settle down, Graves," Soap raised an eyebrow, "But I can see why."

Graves chuckled and shoved the photo back into his pocket, "I'm gonna hang it up soon, give the Shadows over to Oz- sit my ass behind a fuckin' desk and call the shots from there."

"I don't know anything!" you hissed; tears were threatening to well up in your eyes now.

"Let me clue you in here," Price knelt down in front of you, eyes laser fixed on yours, "You are not leaving this room until I get an answer."

"Fuck you."

--

"Shepherd told me you were dead," Oz's back was against the wall, eyes following Graves as he paced.

"Maybe I was," there was a new glint in the commander's eye that made Oz uncomfortable. His irises were glowing in the dim light, two halos of amber bobbing just above his shark-like grin, "Now I'm gonna ask you one more time, where are they?"

"Those British fucks came knocking-" Oz paused, eyes screwed up, as if he was trying to conjure the memory up in his mind, "They know you're alive. Took 'em in for questioning. That's all I fuckin' know, Graves."

He didn't need any more than that.

"Do me a favor, Osmond," Graves glanced over his shoulder as he exited the room, "Don't tell Shepherd about this conversation. I'd like it to be a surprise."

--

Your house was deserted. Lights were still on, and your phone was sitting at the table. Graves knew you didn't go voluntarily. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of the place dance through his nostrils and across his tongue. Each scent was a thread, a way to trace back to the source- a way for him to find you.

He got a lock on it, pulled it from the others that surrounded it until it was all he could smell, all he could taste. From there, it was easy- like a bloodhound on the trail he could retrace your every step.

The other scents made his fangs throb, anger welled up in his chest- Soap, Ghost, and two others he couldn't quite place.

It was easy to follow the trail once he had a lock on you. Graves could see the scent now, like a faint fog that hovered in the air.

You were close. And so were the others.

--

"Do you really think he's alive?" The soldier Gaz was posted with was chatty. He hated that.

"Dunno. Price seems to think so," Gaz traced a circle in the dirt with his boot, hoping to avoid further conversation.

"Yeah, but, they fuckin' blew that tank sky-high, right? No shot he lived."

"Maybe he wasn't in it."

The soldier seemed surprised by the suggestion, "Yeah? That could be. Probably put some low level guy in there, made him get blasted."

Gaz simply grunted in response, praying that the man took the hint. He didn't want to be part of the interrogation, in fact, he thought the whole thing was a farce. As if Graves would be foolish enough to tell you he was alive, let alone where he was.

So, Price stuck him outside on "guard duty" with some chatty nobody until they were through.

"I'm gonna do a walk-around, make sure nobody is up to anything," The soldier had clearly taken the hint, uncomfortable with the silence that was left hanging between them.

"Knock yourself out," Gaz leaned back against the cool metal of the wall and watched as the man disappeared into the darkness.

The night was quiet and Gaz could hear the faint sounds of the highway in the distance, muddled with crickets chirping in the field just outside the gate.

The minutes ticked by and Gaz began to wonder if the other soldier had abandoned him. He wouldn't complain if he had, but Price demanded two on the door at all times.

"Oi, you done fucking around out there?" Gaz called into the darkness.

No response.

"Jesus, mate-" He cupped his hand around his mouth and yelled once more, "If I have to come find you, I'm tellin' Price and he'll kick your ass."

Silence.

"Fuckin' hell," Gaz muttered as he flipped the flashlight to life on his rifle and aimed it into the distance.

He wandered between the shipping containers in the warehouse yard, flashlight beam bobbing from shadow to shadow.

"You out here takin' a piss or are you-" Gaz stopped mid-sentence as his beam fell on something dark pooled on the concrete. From it, drag marks had been formed in the liquid, leading off into the darkness. Gaz knelt beside the puddle and examined it closely; he realized with a sudden jolt that it was blood. A lot of it.

"What the fuck-" He lifted the beam of his flashlight, following the drag marks until the dark overwhelmed it.

A thud in the distance, just beyond the reach of the light made him jump; he lifted his rifle to his shoulder and tried to calm his racing heart.

"Somebody out there? Come out with your hands up." Something to his left rustled and Gaz spun on his heel in search of the source.

Gaz had never met Graves in person. He only knew him from photographs and from a brief glimpse of him during their raid of the Fuerzas Especiales base.

But, the man standing before him was undoubtedly Phillip fucking Graves.

Something was off about his uniform, it seemed to shine in the light. It took Gaz a moment to realize that the fabric was covered in blood.

"Gaz, right?" Graves grinned as he drawled on, "Never had the pleasure of meeting you, but I'm sure you know who I am."

"Price is gonna have your fuckin' head."

"We'll see about that. Now look, I think you know what happened to your buddy," Graves nodded to the pool of blood, "But it doesn't have to happen to you. You answer my questions, you walk away. Pretty simple."

Gaz swallowed, hard, and flexed his fingers on the grip of his rifle, "No shot."

Graves sighed and ran his tongue over his teeth, "I know you're smarter than this, Garrick. Tell me where they're at and we go our separate ways."

"I promise you, I'm a man of my word."

--

"Gaz, we're calling it a night. Everything clear out there?" Price released the button on his radio and waited for a response.

Silence.

"Fuck's sake, Gaz," Price shook his head and made his way toward the entry. Gaz was good at what he did, but he never turned his fucking radio on.

Price flung the heavy metal door open and found the entry unguarded. Gaz's rifle was leaned neatly against the wall, and there was no sign of Krieger anywhere.

Graves watched Price from the shadows, listening as his heartbeat grew more rapid with every passing second, no doubt worrying about Gaz's safety. He didn't have to worry- Graves was, indeed, a man of his word. The kid had left without a scratch on him, but he'd made him leave his radio behind; he knew Gaz would try to warn Price. He'd probably gone to circle back and do it anyway, but Graves didn't care.

It would be more fun if they knew he was coming.

Graves waited until Price turned his back and made his move, lunging out of the darkness and shoving him to the concrete. Price grunted as the air was forced from his lungs, thrashing beneath the other man's weight.

"Hello again, Captain," Graves shoved his knee into Price's back and used his weight to keep him pinned, "Long time no see."

"Graves-" Price growled as he tried to free himself from his grip, "What the fuck did you do to Gaz?"

"Nothing," Graves said simply, "The other one, though," he whistled for emphasis, "Let's just say he retired early, hm?"

"I'll fucking kill you-"

Graves used his free hand to shove Price's face into the concrete, silencing him.

"No, no, I think you misunderstand the situation here, hoss," Graves leaned down until his face was just inches from Price's, "See, your little lapdogs thought they killed me down in Mexico. Hell, I thought they did too. But somethin' out there had a different idea, and now-" he flashed his pointed teeth and Price's eyes widened, "I'm gonna make you and your little 141 regret it."

Graves adjusted his weight so he could wrestle one of Price's arms out from under him, easily overpowering every attempt he made to pull it away.

"I'd love to take my time with you, but I don't want the boys inside to get worried and come lookin'- that'd ruin all my plans," Graves angled Price's arm until he felt resistance, the bones trying to prevent him from moving them beyond their limit, "Doesn't mean I can't have a little fun first."

A sickening crack radiated under Graves' grip and Price cried out through gritted teeth as his radial bone gave way, followed by another crunch when the ulna followed suit.

"Hope that wasn't your shootin' arm," Graves joked as Price panted in pain beneath him, "Not that that matters much."

Graves reached for his other arm, wrenching it back despite the other man's efforts against him. This time he twisted, savoring the way Price cried out in earnest when his bone spiraled into pieces, skin already beginning to discolor as blood gathered beneath the surface.

Graves dropped the now limp limb, feeling Price's heartbeat, erratic and racing, thrum in his ears. Oh, how he wanted to break every bone in his body, to make his death as slow as he could. But he didn't have time for that.

Instead, he reached down, taking Price's head in his hands and lifting his face from the pavement, "Take a real good look at the stars, Captain," Graves grinned as he felt the race of blood just under the skin, "At least die lookin' at something pretty."

Price opened his mouth to retort, but Graves wrenched, hard, twisting his head until he felt a pop reverberate through his fingers. Price's body went limp, and Graves stood up, pausing to dust himself off before making his way to the door.

--

Your back ached from the hard metal chair, and the dim lighting was threatening to give you a headache before long. You'd told Price over and over again that you knew nothing, and yet he still persisted.

He'd left you in the room with Soap, who was watching you from the shadows, a look of pure hate painted across his face.

"You can keep lyin' all ya want, but eventually we're gonna get what we want," his Scottish accent grated on your ears after hours trapped in that fucking room.

"I don't know how else to tell you this, you thick-skulled moron-" you shifted in your chair so he could better see your face, "I don't know fucking anything. You telling me that Phillip is alive is just as much of a shock to me as it is to you!"

"Bullshit."

"If he is alive, I can tell you this much-" you were mad now, some kind of volatile mix of anger and grief that had you feeling bolder than you ever had before, "he's going to tear the place apart looking for me."

Soap didn't respond, which only irritated you further.

"And from where I'm sitting, you look like a prime fucking target right now!"

That made him laugh, which sent a jolt of rage through your chest, "Even if your little boyfriend is still alive, he's not making it ten steps into this country-"

His cellphone began to vibrate, interrupting his tirade; when he pulled it from his pocket, you could see Gaz's name on the screen.

"Gaz- what? Slow down, man. What are you talking about?" Soap's brows were furrowed, and you could hear the other man shouting frantically, "I can't- did you call Price? What do you mean he didn't answer?"

Your heart hammered as you strained to hear what Gaz was saying on the other end, you caught bits and pieces- "killed Krieger" and "I ran"; before Soap hung up, you heard "You have to get everyone out."

Soap hammered the call button on his radio, "Ghost, you got ears on?"

There was a pause before his radio crackled to life, and Ghost's gruff voice responded in the affirmative.

"Listen, Gaz just called me- I dunno if he's off his rocker or what, babbling on about Krieger being dead and-" he paused and looked down at you before continuing, "Just...could you go outside and see what the fuck is going on?"

"Roger."

--

Ghost made his way silently through the hallways toward the front entry. This whole affair annoyed him- if Graves was alive, how far could he possibly have gotten? He wasn't an idiot, he'd have kept his status from you for as long as he could for his safety and yours.

But Price's ego was bruised and you were an easy grab- it didn't matter if everyone agreed or not.

Where the hell was Price, anyway?

Ghost flung the heavy metal door open and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness- the small light that had hung just above the frame seemed to have been broken.

Ghost cursed and thumbed the flashlight on his rifle to life, sweeping it over the concrete.

"Price-" he spotted the man, lying limp on the pavement just a few feet away. There was something wrong with the way he was positioned, something unnerving about his neck, "Captain?"

Ghost crouched low to the ground and approached, "Captain?" Once he was closer he realized what was wrong- Price's neck was twisted beyond its limit. His eyes were wide and bulging, bloodshot and full of ruptured vessels.

"Fuckin' hell," Ghost stood straight and hit the call button on his radio, "Soap, we have a problem. Lock the door to that cell and meet me out here."

"Roger."

--

"Ghost?" Soap turned the key in the lock on the cell door as he peered down the hallway, "Ya there, LT?"

Silence was his only answer.

Soap made his way toward the exit; his heart was hammering- what had made Gaz go into hysterics like that? Where was Price?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud thrum as the power went out in the warehouse, sealing him in total darkness.

"Fuck!" Soap jumped in surprise and fumbled in the darkness with his rifle until the flashlight came to life.

The bright white beam bobbed as he continued his trek in darkness toward the door, "Comin' LT! The fuckin' power went out," he called, hoping Ghost could hear him through the metal.

The door rattled, hard, and Soap stopped in his tracks, "Soap, open the fuckin' door," Ghost's voice echoed over the radio.

"Locked yourself out, eh, LT?" Soap chuckled.

"Fuck off."

Soap approached the door and swept his flashlight over it, confusion taking root in his mind as he took in the chains that were wrapped around the bar.

"LT, something...something is going on with the door-"

Graves watched from the rafters, feeling Soap's pulse grow more rapid by the second, savoring the thrum of it in his ears. He had wanted to save the Scot for last, but fate had other plans.

Soap examined the chains, running his gloved hand along the metal, "LT...there's chains on the door."

"What?"

"There's chains, keeping the door shut."

"What the fuck are you on about, Johnny?" Ghost sounded annoyed; the door rattled as he put his full weight into it once more.

Graves was tired of the pathetic display below him- while Soap fumbled in the darkness, he was able to see everything in perfect totality. Every finite detail, every color. Another benefit of his new condition.

Graves dropped from the rafters, silent as a predatory cat, moving as if he was one with the shadows until he was behind Soap, close enough to hear his every breath.

"Hey Soap, long time no see."

Soap was quick, Graves had to give him that much. He swung his rifle, nearly connecting with Graves' head, and managed to strangle out "GHOST, GRAVES IS-" over his radio before it was ripped from his vest.

"Soap? Johnny??" Ghost's voice faded away on the abandoned radio as Graves dragged the Scot down the hall.

--

"Wakey wakey, Soap," Graves brought his hand down, hard, across Soap's face, the sound ringing through the empty room.

The Scot's eyes fluttered as he regained consciousness, eyes flitting around the room frantically. He was seated, his wrists bound to the arms of the chair he was in. His ankles were bound as well, held tightly in place with some kind of cord.

The room was dark, save for one single bulb that hung above his head, casting harsh shadows on his figure.

"What the fuck-" Soap hissed as his eyes struggled to adjust to the pitch blackness, limbs straining against his bindings.

"You wanna know something, Soap?" Graves paced around the chair, his Southern drawl echoed off the walls of the room, "I wanted to like you. Hell, I did like you. But you just couldn't let it go."

"You took Alejandro's base!" Soap spat, "You wanted us to just 'let that go'?"

"I'd be willing to let bygones be bygones, too. Bury the hatchet. When I crawled outta that tank, I was just happy to be alive."

Graves reached for the crowbar that hung from the back of his tac vest, wrapping his fingers around the cool metal and snagging it from the loop that held it.

"But then I come home to find that you and your little gang of assholes had the gall to use someone I love to try and hunt me down," he brandished the crowbar, its silver finish glinting in the harsh light, "And I can't forgive that."

The crowbar came down swiftly, connecting with Soap's knee, its clawed head dragging the flesh and connective tissue with it. Blood splattered to the floor and Soap let out a pained cry through gritted teeth.

Graves raked his eyes over the soldier's panting form, calculating where he should strike next. This time the blow came to his chest with the blunt side, taking the air from Soap's lungs with a dull crack.

The Scot coughed, a faint wheeze at the crest of his next breath. Graves grinned wolfishly, waiting for him to recover, the crowbar tapping absentmindedly against his flattened palm.

"Ghost...." Soap wheezed, his head lolling slightly, "Is going to fuckin' kill you."

"Better give him a good reason, then."

Graves brought the sharp teeth of the crowbar down, with his full strength, onto Soap's right fingers. The metal cut through in one motion- muscle, tendons, and bones giving way easily under the blow. The force was such that the teeth lodged themselves into the wood of the chair as blood oozed from the two severed fingers in thick rivulets.

Soap let out a genuine cry of pain, his muscles flexing on instinct, struggling against his bindings. Graves gave him no time to recover, swinging the weapon upward and striking him in the jaw with a wet whacking sound that reverberated through the metal.

Blood gushed from his cracked jaw, spilling down his fatigues and pattering to the floor. He let out a pained groan as more blood rolled over his lips and down his chin.

Another blow landed on the side of his head and for a moment, he danced on the edge of unconsciousness, his skull throbbing in time with his pulse.

"Ghost-" blood clung to his lips as he spoke, weak pleas falling on deaf ears, "Simon, please-"

Graves laughed outright at that, "He's not coming to save you. By the time he gets in this building, you'll be long gone."

"Fuck....you," Soap wheezed. His face was covered in blood now, caked in his stubble and soaked into his uniform.

His other hand took the abuse this time. The crowbar's sharp clawed end ripped through two of his fingers, sending a spray of crimson to the floor. Graves waited until blood had pooled on the metal, then raised the weapon to his mouth and ran his tongue along it, pointed fangs glinting in the harsh light.

Soap could barely muster a cry of pain this time, instead making a pathetic moaning sound as the fresh blood joined the rest on the floor at his feet.

"Aw, come on now, buck up, sport-" Graves positioned the crowbar under Soap's chin and tilted his face upward, "Don't be blacking out on me just yet. I'm not done havin' fun!"

He tossed the crowbar to the side and Soap's head dropped to his chest once more, his breaths coming in shallow waves. Graves unsheathed his combat knife and fidgeted with the blade, contemplating.

"You wanna know something, Soap?" Graves paced around the chair slowly, mapping out his next target, "I really respected you. It's a shame it had to go down like this."

Soap groaned in response, a wet, gurgling sound that fell flat in the empty room. Graves rolled his eyes and slid the knife under the shoulder straps of the Scot's tactical vest, slicing the fabric and letting the heavy kevlar fall away from his chest.

"Let's wake you up, shall we?" Graves laced his fingers in Soap's hair and yanked, hard, bringing his face upward. He gripped the blade tightly and brought it to the Scot's cheek, dragging it down the flesh and leaving an angry cut in its wake.

Soap gritted his teeth, choking back a cry of pain as blood flooded down his jaw and neck.

Graves tutted, unsatisfied, and instead brought the blade to Soap's stomach, "Guess we'll go big then."

The knife pierced through the Scot's skin just above his navel; blood gushed around the blade as Soap thrashed, a new, more urgent sound escaping his lips.

"That's more like it!" Graves grinned, delighted. He pulled the knife upward, shredding the flesh and muscle until he hit the resistance of bone in the ribcage.

"Simon!" Soap cried hoarsely, his mind struggling to comprehend the new pain, "Ghost, please- it hurts."

Graves watched as the blood flooded to the floor, enough to make Soap grow pale, his eyes going in and out of focus.

"Sorry, hoss," Graves cocked his head and took a step back to avoid his boots getting tinged with blood, "I know your ol' pal Ghost has got to be close to getting in. Couldn't have him interrupting."

Soap slumped forward, his form going limp; a few disjointed words still fell from his lips as he faded from consciousness, "Simon", "please" "Help me".

Graves grabbed Soap's dog tags, clutching them firmly in his fist before ripping them from the Scot's neck, "No hard feelings, Johnny boy." He watched, amused, as the Scot convulsed and then went limp.

From down the hall, Graves detected another heartbeat, racing, filled with rage.

Ghost.

--

Graves prowled along the rafters, watching Ghost move through the warehouse. It would be hard to break him- he'd read the files. The man had a psych profile a fucking mile long.

"Lookin' for your buddy?" Graves called down from the ceiling, watching as Ghost pointed his rifle skyward, eyes under his mask narrowed as he stared into the darkness, "Got some bad news about that."

Ghost swung his rifle wildly, aiming into the rafters; Graves could hear his heart hammering, a sweet melody of anticipation that made him grin in the darkness. He took one last look at the bloodied dog tags clutched in his fist before tossing them to the ground.

Ghost spun on his heel at the sound of metal connecting with concrete, eyes widening as they fell on Johnny's dog tags, dented and covered in blood.

"Y'know it's a damn shame, Ghost," Graves drawled from somewhere above him, "Soap died all alone, screamin' your name. Should'a heard him when I cut his gut open-" he paused to chuckle at the memory, "he was beggin' like a dog."

"Come down and fight me, Graves!" Ghost snarled, his rage fighting the overwhelming grief of losing Johnny.

"Careful what you wish for."

Before Ghost could turn to the source of the voice, pain erupted in his lower back. There was a momentary heat as he felt fingers push through the fabric of his gear, then into his flesh. He tried to pull away, but Graves had a hold of something inside him. Instead, he turned as well as he could, swinging the rifle to take aim at the other man's chest.

Graves grinned and clenched his fist until he felt a crunch. Hot, coppery blood ran down his arm and mixed with a viscous fluid that poured from Ghost's now shattered spine.

When he released his grip, the masked man crumpled to the floor, his legs now immobile beneath him. Graves took advantage of the momentary shock to grab the rifle from Ghost's hands and toss it across the room.

Ghost was panting under his mask, trying to process the lack of feeling in his legs.

"You know, I always wondered what you look like under this-" Graves took a fistful of the fabric just above the skull and pulled, prying the mask from Ghost's face and letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

"Now, I don't know what the hell Soap saw in you," Graves paced around the downed soldier, watching his eyes follow him; there was no fear there, just anticipation, "Gotta say, I respect the dedication to the badass bit you've got going here."

Ghost said nothing in return. He could feel the blood pooling beneath him, soaking through the hooded sweatshirt he wore under his flak jacket. He'd been through worse- Graves would have to do better than this.

"Johnny boy, though, he dropped the act pretty quick," Ghost's mouth twitched at those words, "Wish you could have heard the way he begged for you to help him right up until the end."

Graves retrieved his crowbar once more, and Ghost's eyes flicked to the dried blood caked on the hooked claw.

"Just know you won't be very far behind him," Graves lined up his crowbar and brought it down with the entirety of his strength, onto Ghost's right arm, just under the elbow. The bones gave way easily, shattering under the weight of the metal.

Ghost didn't make a sound, and his face barely changed; he merely stared up at Graves, his jaw set.

"Like I said, pretty impressive-" Graves tapped the blunt instrument against his palm. Ghost was lying flat on his back now, unable to support himself with his arms any longer, "Just wish I had a little more time."

Ghost's left arm was next. The crowbar came down, teeth first, the force of it cleaving straight through the flesh and bone and striking off the concrete beneath it.

This time, Ghost made a sound, a guttural groan from somewhere deep in his chest. He was growing more pale by the minute as blood began to spread in a halo around his form on the floor.

Graves was growing bored of the interaction.

"Don't worry, Ghost" Graves moved behind him, shoving him upright and bringing the crowbar to his neck, "Soap won't be alone for long."

The crowbar went tight against Ghost's throat, cutting off his air. He tried to move, tried to thrash away from the pressure, but Graves was stronger.

"Look at that! There is some life left in you," Graves sneered as he pulled the metal even tighter, eliciting a choked gasp from Ghost, whose head thrashed weakly, trying in vain to relieve the pressure.

Graves pulled with more force, grunting against the soldier's struggles, until he felt the man go grow weaker before becoming still entirely.

Graves rose to his feet and let Ghost fall to the floor in a heap, watching with amusement as the light went out in his eyes. He paused to dust himself off and replace his crowbar on the back of his vest before exiting the room and making his way toward you.

--

You strained your wrists against the bindings, struggling helplessly to free yourself in the pitch blackness. The power had gone out what seemed like hours ago, and Soap still hadn't returned.

Was this some new trick? A vain effort to make you talk by playing on fear?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the distinct sound of the door on the far side of the room opening- no light flooded in from outside, which meant the power outage stretched at least into the hallway.

"That you, Soap?" you tried to sound casual, but the darkness and your immobility were starting to wear on you, "Neat trick with the lights."

No response.

"Ever figure out what Gaz was so worked up about?"

You could feel someone getting closer to you- not hear, feel, like the air shifted around whoever it was. The hairs on the back of your neck were on end, your heart banging out a rhythm in against your rib cage.

"Hello?" Your voice sounded very small, dwarfed by whatever presence was hovering near you in the darkness.

"Hey baby," a distinctive southern drawl purred near your ear and you felt as if your heart was going to leap out of your throat. There was a coppery smell to his breath that you couldn't quite place.

"Phillip?" You choked back a sob as he cut the bindings on your wrists and ankles.

"It's me," you felt his hand cup your chin and his forehead touched to yours.

"How-" your voice cracked and you felt tears spill down your cheeks as you struggled to find the words.

"Shhh, it's alright. I'm here," Graves pulled you in close and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. His shirt felt wet, and the metallic scent persisted on him, almost overwhelming, "I'm gonna walk you outta here, okay? But you gotta promise me something-"

"What?"

"Keep your eyes closed."

[lostinmyhidingplace]

Where to hide?

I think the worse part of it all is that I can't confront the situation because I'm not sure if it even happened. It took me weeks to recognize that something sinister had happened. It took retelling the story to others and trying to make a self deprecating joke about it and being met with pity. And the V word. I hate that word. I want to be known for the things I've done, not the things that have been done to me. I've always pictured my name next to words like Writer, Actor, Director, Socialite. Titles that made people look at me with pride, with envy, maybe even with hate but never with pity. And the worst part of it is there's nowhere to go from here if I don't know what happened for certain. And I'll never know. Which means that no matter how good of a day I have, how much I accomplish, how far I go.. it'll be there. The unanswered questions haunting me. I've always been a big drinker, why did I black out after 3 drinks? I hadn't ate much that day, how long was I on his bathroom floor throwing up for? Where did my tampon go? The craziest thing is that I saw him one more time after that and he kissed me and my body froze. And I tried to pull away and he wouldn't let me so I just stood there frozen. I didn't abruptly end it out of fear that it would turn violent. I figured it would just be easier to endure it. Why would I force myself to see him again if he did something horrible to me? Questions that didn't even really occur to me until I told my friend the story in between laughs and her laughter slowly muffled and then inevitably came to a halt. And once I finally made peace with the fact that I would never know and I just needed to move on with my life. And I had, burying it deep inside me and creating more layers of interesting and funny of myself that it would be impossible to unearth. There he was. 4 years later. In a drunk crowded bar I had my sunglasses on and was dancing with my eyes closed. Feeling alive. And when I opened my eyes there he was staring at me. And I felt sick again. So I tried to hide, figured the club was big enough for the two of us. And instead I accidentally walked myself into a corner where it was just the two of us. And at first this motherfucker pretended not to know me. So I played along. And he said "Hi I'm ____ and you look so familiar" I avoided eye contact with him and said nope don't think so. He sits next to me and after a few questions he fakes an epiphany and says "I do know you, we went on a few dates a while back". And I try and pretend not to remember while trying my hardest to scoot over. Looking for my friend. Praying and pleading to any God that may or may not have existed that she would come out of the bathroom to save me. That anyone would walk by and take me out of this hell. And then he puts his hand on my leg, much further up than I would've ever let a stranger. And my heart stops. And again I just fucking freeze. I don't do anything. It feels like I'm across the room watching myself. And as he touches my leg he says "We should hang out again. And watch Bob's Burgers, that's still your favorite right?" The man who I went on 3 dates with over 4 years ago and "Allegedly" wasn't sure who I was but could remember my favorite thing. Like it belonged to him and not me. And suddenly those layers of interesting and funny I had built for myself just melted away and the only thing I was left with was unanswered questions. "We're going to hang out again" was the most terrifying and threatening sentence I had ever heard. He pulls out his phone and ask me to give my number. Thinking I'm slick I pull out my phone and say "No give me yours and I'll call you." Dying for this interaction to fucking end, I'm not paying attention to what he's doing on my phone. Of course he calls himself. He finally lifts his hand off my leg and I realize I've been holding my breath this whole time. I exhale. I see him two more times that night and his over familiar tone and body language with me made me want to dig my nails into my wrists.

[dreamescapeswriting]

The View ~ LMH [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT:3.5K

PAIRING: Minho x Fem!Reader

GENRE: SMUT, fluffy with smut, blow job in a car, teasing, against the window fuck, creampie, begging to cum, unprotected sex, loving Minho, spanking,

A/N: Since you wanted this to be smut I went with a Charity Gala setting 🥰💕 Hope that you enjoy this sweetie     

Giant crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceilings of the huge property you were walking through. A live pianist playing in the corner of the room that you were standing in. The whole thing gave you "Mafia Ball" vibes as you stood with your boyfriend. Tonight was supposed to be a huge charity benefit where people would auction off items for charity. Everything felt and looked as though it was expensive, as though you could never afford anything happening inside of the room. 

"You look breathtaking tonight." Chan, one of the leading benefactors said as he took your hand in his and placed a soft kiss on the top. Minho's grasp on your arm tightening just a little as he felt someone else next to you. He wasn't exactly the jealous type but tonight you looked exceptionally good and he would be dammed if anyone but himself told you that. 

"Minho," Chan smirked knowing just what he was doing, getting under Minho's skin like a splinter made of Iron.

"Easy," You whispered when you felt Minho's hands on your arm tight ever so slightly. 

"I'm all yours, remember." You smirked placing a soft kiss on Minho's cheek, leaving a faint mark of your lipstick across his skin. Minho did not want to be here under any circumstances. The moment he had seen you he wanted to stay home and never go anywhere else with you. 

It was the dress you were wearing, something he hadn't seen until tonight. A long black gown with a slit up the left leg. The velvet fabric clung to your body perfect and helped show each and every part Minho loved most about you. 

Including the lace bodice that seemed to be driving Minho wild at the sight of it. You knew he wouldn't be able to resist you in it but it wasn't for him. Tonight you were being auctioned off, only to dance with of course. 

Most of the females at the benefit were doing it in order to help raise money. It was a dance or they would be doing a carwash. You figured dancing would be far more beneficial to everyone and time savingly.

"Can we go yet?" Minho's voice was muffled as he put his head in your neck. Arms wrapping around your waist as he clung onto you, wanting nothing more than to go home and take the dress off you. It wasn't completely one-sided of course. The suit he was wearing was making your heart flutter and your legs shake just a little.

All black suit with a waistcoat and tie, it was something simple and yet on Minho, it looked gorgeous. Though to you Minho always looked gorgeous but tonight was something different. There was always something about a man wearing a suit that drove your mind wild.

"We can't go yet, you know I have to be bid on soon." You laughed, running your hand through his brown hair and ruffling it just a little. A low growl escaped his lips at the mention of the auction, it wasn't as though it was something he was best pleased about. The mere thought of you dancing with somebody else was going to drive him into a jealously spin and he didn't know if he would control himself. 

"You promised to be good," You smirked as he pulled you tighter, holding you from behind as he looked around at everyone in the room. There were so many other men in the room that would be willing to dance with you, barely taking their eyes off you from the moment you joined. 

"I am. I will." He muttered looking at you and sighing a little. It wasn't as though he was possessive just protective over you. 

"Ladies if you would like to come up onto the stage," A voice called out through a microphone. You smiled trying to leave Minho's arms but he locked them tightly around you. 

"Don't." He whined before you finally freed yourself. Kissing his cheek before heading up to the stage to join the rest of the girls up there. All of them dressed to impress.

"Finally we have Miss Y/l/n, shall we start the bidding at 

₩160000?" The female running the auction asked as she looked out at the crowd. A hand began raising toward the front and you smiled seeing Chan standing there. A lift was somehow lifted from you knowing that someone other than Minho would be willing to bid on you. 

"Do I hear, 170?" The woman answered, laughing as Minho's hand at the back shot right into the air. A smirk plastered across Chan's face as he winked up at you, raising the offer higher and higher each time the woman asked. Always trying to outbid Minho. Until finally, 

"1,000,000 going once...Twice...Congratulations Minho you won a dance with your own girlfriend," The announcer chuckled as you headed down from the stage, smirking at Chan as you passed him. 

"Well played Christopher," You whispered as he kissed your hand softly. 

"Anything for the charity, tell Minho we'll take it in cash or cheque," Shaking your head at him you began to walk toward Minho who looked jealous. It was clear to you what Chan had been doing from the start, just a little game in order to raise enough money but not to Minho.

To Minho it was a sign of Chan making a move for you, trying to take the person that Minho cared most about in this world. 

"We can't leave, you have to dance first." You whispered to Minho, taking your arm in your hand and squeezing just a little. Giving him a look to let him know that there was nothing going on between Chan and you. 

"You've got me," You whispered to him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and smiling.

Swaying together on the dance floor all Minho could focus on was the way you moved your hips. Watching your every movement as you danced together with him. Normally he would be an avid dance partner but not tonight, tonight he was worried about what everyone else was doing. If they were watching you and he wanted to show who you were, that you were his and his alone.

"Y/n," He breathed out as you turned your back on him, his arms linked around your waist as you rolled your hips back to meet his crotch.

"What?" A smirk hit your lips as you began to feel him grow from one small touch. Barely even a full touch from you and he was already needy and ready to take you home. Not even home, there was one thing Minho hadn't told you about tonight and that was that he had organised something. 

Nothing large but an overnight stay in a fancy hotel for the two of you. Something to get you out of the house and experience this luxury a little while longer.

"We're going," He ordered in your ear as he took your arm into his grasp and headed toward the exit. 

"Minho, we haven't even paid yet." You laughed a little as he continued to pull you out. Ignoring the looks he was gaining from other people at the function.

"Hmm my boy is so needy," You breathed out as you sat in the front passenger seat of his car. Hands resting on his thigh rubbing softly as his whole body seemed to tense up. Mind trying to focus on driving while you inched your hand higher and higher up his thigh until it was at his crotch. Palming him gently through the fabric of his smart pants. 

"Fuck," He whined out rolling his hips a little at a red light, glancing to you as he felt himself growing harder beneath your touch. Almost getting to the point where it was unbearable to feel you so close and yet so far away from him at the same time. The light changed and he drove again, your hand palming him a little harder as your other hand worked on undoing his buttons. 

"You missed our turning," You laughed as you saw Minho staring straight ahead. Eyes darkened as he shook his head at you, the feeling of taking you to a nice hotel for a romantic evening gone. Now all he wanted to do was get you there and fuck you so hard you would regret touching him in the car.

"Speak to me Minho," You whined as you took him out of his pants, pumping him in your hand as he let out a groan. Still not uttering a word in your direction so you continued to pump him, running your thumb along the slit of his cock and smirking. If he wasn't going to talk to you, you would have other ways of making him.

"Hmm, I guess you don't want to..." You whispered leaning down a little to spit onto his cock, kitten licking the head of his penis before smirking to yourself. There was one thing Minho hated most in the world and that was you teasing him. Glaring up at him you took him to the back of your throat, wasting no time in bobbing your head up and down. Swallowing around the head of his cock to make it tighter for him and enjoying the noises he let out. 

The whimpers and moans of your name as he continued to drive, in the completely wrong direction of your home together. 

"S-Shit!" He grunted parking in the parking lot as you continued to take him in your mouth. Playing with his balls until he let go into your mouth, slamming his hands onto the wheel and moaning out. 

"Shit! Y/n, fuck." He watched you as you raised from his crotch and wiped the corner of your lips. Slowly parting your mouth to show him all of his cum inside of your mouth. 

"You swallow it right now," He ordered as he took your face in his hands, tilting it back so that you couldn't drop any. Smirking at him you stared him in the eyes, not moving or swallowing anything. 

"I suggest you swallow it or you will spend the night clenching your thighs together at the thought of my cock being stuffed inside of you." The moment he threatened you with that you swallowed, parting your lips to show him that every last drop was gone and he smirked. A smug look plastered across his face as he got out of the car and pulled you out with him. 

"What are we doing here?" You questioned as you began to walk in the direction of the hotel. Minho simply smiled, tilting your head up to the fourth floor and showing you the large floor to ceiling windows. 

"You're going to get stuffed up against that window," He whispered right before wandering off on his own to go and check into the room. Leaving your legs rubbing together at the thought of him doing that with you. Something you had both wanted to do for the longest time.

"Whoa!" You breathed out rushing over to the window and staring out at the city. Everything looked beautiful, you weren't that high up and yet you could still see everything. 

"The city lights look like stars," You whispered gazing out at everything as Minho dropped his bag onto the bed. Some spare clothes for the two of you to go home in tomorrow, that was if you could still walk by the time he was done with you. 

You opened your mouth about to say something else when your hands were pinned to the window above your head. Minho took in a deep breath and smirked at you,

"We should make this the best night of your life," He whispered as he bit down on your ear lobe, grinding his already hard cock against your ass with a smirk.

"T-The bed," You whispered but Minho shook his head, running one hand down the side of your dress to find the zip. 

"The bed looks, great baby...I would just throw you down, put you on your stomach and make you beg for my cock but..." He smirked taking in a deep breath and looking at the way you rubbed your thighs together at his words. How could you not? The thought of Minho doing anything to you sent a pool to your panties and made your stomach do flips.

"Against the window?" You questioned as you turned around to face him, holding your dress by the bodice since Minho had already unzipped your gown. 

"Take it off baby...Nice and slow." He whispered watching as you slowly let the dress fall to the ground. Exposing the black lace underwear set you had worn that night. 

"Now your bra," He smirked licking his lips as he watched you yet again. Unclasping your bra and watching him as you threw it to the side, 

"So hot," He moaned out as you began to rub your breasts in your hands.

"Shit princess, look at you...Squeeze and pinch your nipples like a good girl." He praised as you followed his orders, letting out a soft whimper. Nothing would feel as when he would do this to you, but you knew this was punishment for making him cum in your mouth in the car.

"Now your panties," He stood back a little, stripping himself down to nothing but his shirt and pants, watching as you kicked off your panties. Licking your lips as his eyes went straight to your core. 

"Tease your little pussy for me," He whispered watching as you began to slowly rub yourself with your fingers. Eyes fluttering shut as you imagined his fingers on you instead of your own. 

"Yes, just like that...Good girl." He praised once more watching as you continued to slowly and gently rub your clit. Letting out small whines when you couldn't touch yourself quite how he could.

"Look at that, all dripping wet and ready to be fucked." He whispered in satisfaction, rubbing himself through his pants as he moved closer to you. 

"Turn around and bent down in front of the window baby." He smirked slapping and grabbing your ass as you turned away from him. 

"Right against the glass baby, like a beautiful piece of art for people to see," He stood behind you, cock brushing between your folds as he made you look out at the city. 

"You think anyone can see? Maybe they can see the way your tits press up against the glass." He sniggered rubbing your clit with the head of his cock making you whine. 

"Minho please, fuck me." You begged him, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder but he looked at you. 

"I'll take my time with you, baby," He placed a soft kiss on your neck making your eyes flutter shut. You always loved feeling his lips on your neck, they made you feel so safe around him.

Rubbing himself at your entrance he made you face forward, cock ready to push into you as you whined. 

"F-Fuck, I'm just going to push into you baby," He smirked sliding into you and moaning out as you clenched around him,

"Mhmm, always so tight around my cock." He grunted as you moaned out. Hands stretched on the window as you looked out at the city, 

"Look at that, you're already starting to fog up the window baby." He chuckled as he began to slowly ease out of you only to slam right back into you and moan out. 

"Up against the glass, good girl." He moaned out as you pushed yourself against the glass, ignoring how cold it was against your tits and enjoying the way it felt to have him inside of you. Every inch of his cock stretching you out as he eased in and out of you. 

"Fuck, you're so much tighter...You like this huh?" He smirked slapping your ass and rubbing it softly in his hands, 

"You like being fucked up against a window when anybody could see you?" You knew this was either going to make or break tonight so you smirked, 

"Anyone? Like Chan?" Minho's hips froze as he held himself deep inside of your cunt. Hand gripping onto your ass as he asked you to repeat it. 

"What was that angel?" The roughness in his voice made you clench around him and he chuckled. 

"C-Chan could be watching," You repeated as you moaned out, rolling your hips back but he pushed you against the glass.

"You want that? You want Chan to see the way I fuck this pussy?" He began to roughly fuck in and out of you. Moaning out as you continued to try and grip onto the window. 

"Fuck! Just like that!" You screamed as he continued to get rougher with you, biting down on your skin. 

"You want Chan to see who makes you scream? Who you cum for ?" He smirked at you. 

"Acting like the little slut you are for me?" You could barely form words as you whimpered and nodded at him.

"Getting fucked from behind in front of the window, you're fucking mine." He grunted his thrusts getting harsher with each word that he spoke. Hands gripping onto your hips as you cried out nothing but his name. Getting lost in the feeling of his cock hitting that one spot over and over again. 

"You're fucking mine, say it." He ordered as he froze inside of you, holding himself at that one spot that made your toes curl into the carpeted floor. 

"No one can fuck you like that, can they?" He growled at you, hand slapping against your ass,

"No! No one can!" You screamed as he began to thrust once again, tits hitting the window as you cried out his name. 

"Take my dick baby, like the good little girl you are," He moaned out as you clenched around him, feeling your high fast approaching as you nodded 

"F-Fuck me Minho, fuck." You cried out as he continued to pound in and out of you harder against the glass. Moaning out your name as he kissed down your neck. 

"I like the view right now," He smirked as he continued to fuck into, rolling your hips against his as you cried out his name. Head getting lost at the feeling of him inside of you.

"You feel so good Minho," You moaned out as you looked over at him, moaning out as he slapped your ass again.

"Hmm, if Chab could see you like this right now, bent over for me getting fucked right against the window." He slapped your ass again and you moaned out, feeling your stomach tightening. The orgasm building up inside of you as your eyes began to shut,

"Minho!" You cried out as your legs began to shake a little, hands reaching into the window to grip onto anything you could.

"You want to cum?" You nodded desperately and he smirked, grabbing your shoulders as he began to pound into our harder, 

"Pound into that tight fucking pussy harder," He chuckled deeply as he began to get rougher with you.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, hands slamming against the glass as he looked at you in pleasure.

"That's the spot isn't it?" He chuckled as he moaned out, hitting that one spot that caused your legs to shake and your pussy to clench around him. Holding your shoulders to slam into that one point over and over again without fail. Your eyes widening as you felt yourself beginning to tip over the edge.

"Shit, shit! F-Fill me up! Fuck me full with your cum." You begged him looking over at him as he continued to fuck into you. Eyes darkening as he nodded his head 

"Make it drip out of me," You begged as he moaned out. Enjoying the way you begged for him as he fucked you like this.

"Yeah?" He questioned as you nodded over and over again. 

"YES!" You practically demanded as you looked over at him.

"So fucking beautiful, so sexy." He whimpered as he nodded at you, 

"Cum on my cock angel, cum around me." He moaned out as you cried out his name. Hands slamming against the glass as you finally let go of the release inside of you. Letting your orgasm wash over you like a wave and cum around him. Clenching and shaking uncontrollably as he fucked his load into you.

The moment you dropped down onto the bed Minho switched demeanor, holding your waist in his and smiling. Making sure to hold you close to his body and rub your back softly. 

"I love you, baby," He whispered as he placed his lips on your skin softly and lovingly. Never wanting to let you go all night long if he could manage it, 

"We can order room service if you want?" He offers, realising that neither of you had eaten much at the charity event and how hungry you must have been. 

"Sure, with chocolate cake?" You hummed turning around in his arms so you were face to face with him, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Perfect, I'll order it all soon." He whispers before kissing you once again.

Tagline: @minholuvs @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​

[narumi-gens]

Do I Have Your Attention?

Narumi Gen x f!Reader

summary: Narumi Gen is not only Japan’s strongest, but also its pettiest.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, oral (m receiving), spit kink, some femdom, Narumi being a little shit

notes: I said I wasn’t going to write for a fandom with only a handful of fics for a character who’s barely appeared in three chapters, but here we are. this fic better spawn 100 other Narumi fics because it can't just be me and @/flintstrikes out here thirsting over this trash man.

words: 2.5k

part of the Agents of Chaos series

Narumi Gen and irritation go hand-in-hand.

For as long as you've known the First Division Captain, he's never ceased to find new ways to annoy you. It's something that you've long grown used to.

But this? This is a step too far.

You can handle the all-night gaming. You can handle the mess that he refuses to clean up. You can handle his pettiness and narcissism and lack of respect for others.

What you can't handle, refuse to handle, is his whining about how unfair it is that he isn't trending, his attention focused solely on his phone when it should have been focused on your lips that are wrapped around his cock.

You scowl up at him from your place between his legs, the wooden floor of his office hard against your knees. You're certain that they'll still be hurting tomorrow. And for what? So that he can come as an afterthought?

Aching knees and a sore jaw are worth much more than that.

“Who do these idiots think they are?!” he continues to rant as he scrolls through his feed. “Yeah, it’s easy to talk shit when you’re hiding behind a computer! I’d love to see them say this to my face. In fact, I’m gonna invite them to the base and see how brave they really are.”

The sound of his fingers furiously tapping on his screen as he angrily types out his response before hitting send is so loud that it threatens to drown out the obscene slurping sounds that you make each time you swallow him.

When you feel your eye beginning to twitch even as you swipe your tongue along the thick vein that runs on the underside of his cock, you know your patience is nearing its limit.

The twitch only grows more severe when Narumi turns his phone around and shoves the screen in your face. You're positive that he thinks he's being considerate by moving his phone back and forth with you as your head bobs up and down on his shaft so that you can read the comments without needing to stop what you're doing.

What a fucking gentleman.

Instead of looking at his phone, your glare remains focused on him. Despite how wet your eyes are from the way he's hitting the back of your throat again and again, they lose none of their fire as you still manage to convey every insult and threat that your mouth is too preoccupied to say aloud.

“Can you believe what they’re saying?” he asks as he turns his phone back around so that he can return to scrolling through his feed. The question is obviously rhetorical — not because you can't reply but because he clearly thinks that you agree with him.

He looks away from his phone, but not so that he can take in the sight of you before him, working your hardest to make him spill his cum down your throat. No, he instead looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully, his wrinkled brow hidden beneath messy bangs.

“I wonder if there’s a troll farm out there that’s targeting me,” he considers, a look of satisfaction slowly forming on his face.

Unfortunately for you, that satisfaction has nothing to do with the hand that you're twisting around the base of his cock just how he usually likes. He snaps his fingers and glances down at you with an eager nod.

“That’s it. There’s no other reason I’d be getting this much hate,” he crows. A smug smirk grows on his lips as his scrolling turns leisurely, pleased with himself for uncovering the conspiracy. “I mean, no one actually thinks Ashiro’s the strongest fighter. Not when I’m in charge of the First Division.”

Deciding to get rougher with him, you let your teeth graze his sensitive flesh the next time you swallow him — a warning of what he can expect if he doesn't stop. But the only reaction you receive is a sharp hiss as his attention briefly turns away from Twitter long enough to give you a petulant scowl.

“Hey, watch the teeth, would ya?” he complains before he looks back at his phone and you suddenly find yourself trying to list all of the reasons why it would be a bad idea to simply bite down and be done with the whole matter.

You sit up and let his cock fall from your mouth, sucking his length as you go. Thinking of yourself as the more considerate lover of the two of you, you continue to pump his spit-slicked shaft with your hand. You softly clear your throat.

“Gen,” you say, your voice dangerously cool.

“If it wasn’t for all of these bots, I’d be the one trending right now,” he rambles. “You know that, right?”

You wipe your drool from your chin with the back of your wrist, your hand never once ceasing its smooth movements.

“Gen.”

“Y’know, the Defense Force really needs to do something about this,” he thinks aloud, ignoring you once again. “It doesn’t look good for them if a bunch of spam accounts are harassing their strongest captain. I’m gonna bring this up the next time I get dragged to one of those meetings.”

You dip your head back down to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, deciding to be generous and give him one last opportunity to see the error of his ways. You suck on the tip, flicking your tongue on the spot just underneath the head that always makes him weak.

His hips jerk and his length twitches in your hand, but he otherwise gives no response.

Unwilling to let your own ego take any further hits, you sit back with a huff. You drop your hand and cross your arms over your chest in displeasure. Your anger only grows when he doesn't protest.

“Gen.”

He finally chooses to reply to you with a distracted, “Hmm?”

Everything turns red.

You're moving quicker than you can comprehend, your hand darting out to grab his phone and yank it from his grasp. The action is so unexpected that the device easily slips from his hold and into your vice-like grip.

He gapes at you as you stand up, now the one looking down at him where he sits in his office chair. It's your turn to be the one that's smugly satisfied as he remains frozen, enjoying how much of an idiot he looks with his features having gone slack in shock and his dick still standing hard in his lap.

You raise an unamused eyebrow at him and it seems to be enough to snap him out of his stupor because an affronted expression quickly appears on his face. He hurriedly begins to tuck himself back in his pants before springing to his feet.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” he cries and you easily dart away from him when he tries to grab his phone back.

Deciding to let your actions speak for themselves, you storm towards the large, double doors of his office, fuming every step of the way. He's right on your heels, sounding like a petulant teenager as he screeches in your ears, demanding that you give him his phone back right now.

You shove open one of the doors so hard that it hits the wall with a bang! and before he can stop you, you hurl the object down the hallway. Its trajectory barely misses Hasegawa and Narumi’s new attendant, who both freeze where they are.

You're too busy relishing the sound of Narumi’s phone shattering into pieces that then skittered across the floor, followed by his panicked shriek, to pay any attention to how the short, blonde-haired girl standing at Hasegawa’s side is looking at the scene playing out before her in shock. The First Division Vice-Captain clears his throat expectantly and when your gaze shifts to him, you're met with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

“What?!” you snap and the crazed look on your face has the girl next to him instinctively taking half a step back.

Your attention returns back to Narumi when he tries to push you out of his way so that he can run after his phone. Your hand latches onto the collar of his shirt and you use your hold on him to roughly shove him back into his office.

“Officer Shinomiya and I have business to discuss with the Captain,” Hasegawa states, sounding as unfazed as ever. This is far from the first time he's found himself in the middle of such a situation.

“Is it important?” you snarl, shoving Narumi back into his office when he tries yet again to get past you.

“Yes.”

“Life and death important?” you challenge, already reaching out to grab onto the large handle of the open door. Hasegawa’s resigned sigh is answer enough. “Then come back later!”

You yank the door shut behind you, slamming it so hard that it causes the doorframe to rattle.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Narumi shouts, his arms waving wildly. You grab a fistful of his shirt as you walk past him and drag him along with you as you make your way back to his desk, your pace much less bothered this time around. “Hey! Get off me! That phone was brand new!”

You stop in front of his desk and do just as he asked and release him. He makes a big show of straightening out his shirt — as if it hadn’t already been wrinkled. Meanwhile, you turn your attention to the surface of his desk, which is covered in papers, empty soda cans and water bottles, old manga magazines, and a pile of discarded sweatshirts.

You outstretch your arms and in one, giant sweep, you shove the entire mess off his desk and onto the floor. He gasps in horror, but you give little regard to his new rant about how you've just ruined his “organized mess.”

Instead, you sit down on the desk’s wooden surface with one leg crossed over the other. He starts to kneel down so that he can pick up the mess but you stop him by yanking on the back of his shirt and pulling him to stand up.

“That was a limited edition—”

He stops mid-complaint when you tightly grab his chin in your hand, the tips of your fingers indenting the hollows of his cheeks from how hard they're digging into his skin. His eyes, which usually only vacillate between bored and bloodshot, have turned wild and his pupils have blown wide.

You use your hold on his face to tug him closer, meeting no resistance. You can hear how his breathing has slightly picked up, the excitement surely beginning to thrum in his veins.

“That’s better,” you murmur with a smirk as you brush the tip of your nose against his. Your eyes flash with glee when he tries to take a step closer but is stopped when he meets your knees where they're crossed between the two of you.

“Now, are you going to be good?” you ask, your voice low and full of the promise of what will happen if he dares to do anything but agree — not that he would, not when you're holding onto him with such a firm hand.

There's a flash of pink when his tongue peeks out to unconsciously run over his bottom lip and your thumb chases after it, slipping into his mouth and he eagerly swirls his tongue around the digit. Without breaking your gaze and like he's in some sort of trance, he slowly nods.

You softly tsk and his expression wrinkles slightly in distress at having done something to warrant your displeasure.

“Baby, I think I need to hear you say it,” you coo with wide, imploring eyes. His tongue moves along your thumb even more urgently. “Are you going to be good for me, Gen?”

“Y-yeah,” he quickly rasps, the word muffled as he speaks around your thumb. “Yeah, I’ll be good.”

Your grin grows so wide that if he were in a proper state of mind, it would have Narumi on edge. But he's too focused on how hard his cock is in his pants to care, achingly aware of how he was buried in your mouth not even ten minutes earlier.

You gently release your grip on his chin and slowly slide your thumb from his mouth. He follows it with hawklike eyes, watching as it then disappeared between your own plush lips so that you can suck it clean of his spit.

When you drop it from your mouth, his slightly opens, unconsciously hoping that you'll return it back to his. The action doesn't escape you and you let out a quiet, mocking laugh at his expense.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his parted lips before giving his cheek a patronizing pat, using the hand that was just holding his chin so that your thumb leaves behind a shining, wet smear of your saliva on his pale skin.

“Good boy,” you softly purr and his eyes somehow manage to grow even wilder at those two, simple words. You slowly uncross your legs, spreading them and inviting him to step between them, pleased when he immediately does so.

You then slide your hand up from his cheek into his hair. Your fingers rake through his two-toned strands and push them back from his forehead, only for them to fall back into his face a moment later. Your hand comes to a stop on the crown of his head and you begin to apply pressure — a wordless demand for him to lower himself.

“I think I’ve spent enough time on my knees today, don’t you?” you ask with a hint of amusement and he nods his head in blind agreement, kneeling down in front of you without protest. “It’s your turn, Gen.”

Bonus:

Shinomiya has faced kaiju after kaiju and has never balked once. But for some reason, she finds herself breaking out in a cold sweat.

“S-sir…” she begins, struggling to put her thoughts into words. “W-what was that just now?”

Hasegawa lets out a tired sigh and turns to her, the look of exasperation that he's wearing at odds with the severe expression that she's already grown used to seeing on the man's scarred face.

“That was the Captain’s better half.”

Her jaw drops in disbelief. But it's quickly eclipsed by both horror and disgust when a muffled, high-pitched moan emerges from behind the set of closed doors. A large hand drops to her shoulder to give her a reassuring pat.

“You’ll get used to it,” Hasegawa grumbles before turning in the opposite direction and walking away. When another moan follows the first, she covers her ears and sprints after the Vice-Captain.

For the first time in her 17 years, Shinomiya Kikoru finds herself actively praying for a kaiju attack.

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (13)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It’s simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if…Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

“A future without you is a world without color.”

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: discussion of injuries which i know nothing about, effects of drunk driving.

SERIES: CHAPTER 12 | CHAPTER 14

Jeon Jeongguk missed you.

He missed you so much he felt like he was going crazy.

He didn't realize that a big part of you was occupying his whole being to the point that when the two of you separated ways, he felt like everything he had meant nothing if you weren't in his life.

He had been dreaming of buying his own apartment ever since he was young, but now that he finally had a house that he could call his own, Jeongguk came to know that this wasn't what he wanted.

What he desired was not a house—he wanted a home and home was wherever you were.

The walls surrounding him weren't going to protect him. It actually hurt him. The deafening silence kept on bouncing that he felt like he was gonna lose his sense of hearing.

Jeongguk decided he hated silence.

He wanted his house to be filled with your laughter.

"Seriously, Guk. Why am I here?"

Jeongguk couldn't speak as Red continued to glare at him.

Ji-eun and her father couldn't visit today because Namjoon had work to do. This left Jeongguk with no choice but to invite his ex-girlfriend in his abode. He hated being alone since it reminded him of how fucked up he was.

He needed a distraction.

"So now you're giving me the silent treatment?" Red rolled her eyes. This was one of her ex lover's habits that she hated. Jeongguk was so bad when it came to communicating.

"You need to tell me the truth if this is about her." Red sighed and Jeongguk froze. The former hadn't mentioned your name, yet Jeongguk was already affected. He knew Red was referring to you.

"I like her a lot and as much as I enjoy doing you a favor, I can't do this forever."

"Msorry..." Jeongguk avoided Red's eyes as he bit his lower lip. His heart hurt a lot.

"No." She shook her head as if her ex's apology was pure bullshit. This was truly unacceptable. "This isn't just about you, Jeongguk. Did you know that the whole office is either questioning my sexuality or thinking I'm a kiss-ass?"

"What?" The confused boy flicked his gaze at Red.

She snorted and then rolled her eyes once more.

"People think I'm in love with your soulmate because I basically cook her three meals a day. I also remind her to drink water, take her vitamins, leave her sweet notes, and change the flowers in her vase just because you are too much of a pussy to do it on your own!"

Jeongguk averted Red's glare again. She was right. He was a fucking coward—too scared to do all these good things on his own.

He was the one who left you, but he felt like you didn't want to do anything with him anymore. Jeongguk had accepted his sad fate, but it didn't mean he would stop taking care of you.

The truth was he was the one who cooked the food you eat every day. He was the one writing you sweet notes, he was the one bombarding Red text messages to kindly remind you to do the simple things you usually forgot because of your busy schedule.

Jeongguk was doing all of this without your knowledge.

How could he tell you when he knew he was unnecessarily mean to you?

"I mean it's about right. I told you I'm gonna stay here for a few months. It's over now. I don't want to be your tenant anymore."

What he said to you six months ago was deeply engraved in his head. This lie was what kept him awake at night.

Jeongguk was lying. Yes. It was true that he didn't want to be your tenant, but it didn't mean that he didn't want to live with you anymore.

But he was so confused—so fucked up in the head that the only solution was to push you away.

He stood by his belief. You did not understand anything and you did not love him.

But Jeongguk was sure of one thing—or at least he thought so.

"I-I," his adam's apple bobbed up and down. He was nervous.  "I think I like her..."

The girl's scoff indicated that she didn't like what he just said.

"You think?" She crossed her arms, making Jeongguk flinch. Her reaction reminded him of the time he met Red at Seokjin's birthday party.

"Why did you follow me, Jeongguk?" Red looked like she had seen a ghost, but she still folded her arms over her chest to intimidate Jeongguk.

It was easy to frighten him. All she had to do was to raise her brow and cross her arms.

"Wow," your soulmate gritted his teeth. "You haven't seen me in so long and this is how you greet me?"

Jeongguk wasn't expecting to see Red at this party. He was here because he wanted to be your date. The thought of you bringing Hoseok to this party made him so angry.

"How do you expect me to react, Guk? I don't want you here!" She was panicking. Jeongguk called her a bitch the last time they had seen each other.

Right now, Red couldn't help but think that Jeongguk would cause ruckus again.

This couldn't happen. Not right now. Not when people were watching Seokjin, and definitely not when you were here.

Red went to the veranda to get some air. She couldn't face you, couldn't face Jeongguk, and couldn’t face Seokjin. The latter had no idea that Jeongguk was the ex she was talking about. They hadn't had the chance to talk about your soulmate because Seokjin was too caught up with the divorce trial.

"So that's it, huh?" Jeongguk clenched his fist. "You'll just decide you don't want me anymore just because you found your soulmate!?"

"Yes!" Red did not even hesitate. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was so scared. All she could think about was the fact that Jeongguk could destroy this evening.

"I found my soulmate and I'm okay now. You should be happy too, JK. You have met the person destined for you."

Jeongguk looked away. How could he be happy? He found you, but he liked Red.

Red knew what was running inside his mind, so she shook her head and looked at Jeongguk straight in the eyes.

"Do not hurt her, Jeon. She's a one of a kind girl. You can't find another person as sweet and smart as her."

'But you're sweet and smart too!' Jeongguk wanted to argue.

"She saved my life. I owe her everything I have. I wouldn't even be able to meet my soulmate if it wasn't for her." She sobbed.

"So don't. Please. Don't hurt her."

Jeongguk blinked back to reality upon realizing that he broke Red's request.

He hurt you. Bad.

"You have to be one hundred percent sure about what you feel for her, Jeongguk. She deserves better than this."

He remained quiet, still pondering on what he felt.

Six months passed, but he felt like it wasn't enough to ease his doubts.

"No." He blurted out. "I-I like her,"

Red's expression softened, but she wasn't convinced yet. Jeongguk was stammering as if he wasn't certain.

"Are you really sure? I know I'm always pressuring you, but I want you to be real." She said carefully.

Jeongguk's heart was hammering. It felt like it wanted to be free from the cold cage he built.

"I don't know!" He looked like he was in a lot of pain. Tears were actually threatening to fall down his cheeks.

Jeongguk hated feelings. Why were they so complicated?

"Okay, Gukkie. Calm down."

Gukkie. You called him this. Jeongguk had another realization. That nickname was only cute when it came out of your pretty mouth.

He wanted to kiss you.

"I think you're just guilty and confused right now," Red started.

He could only listen.

"Guilty because you are being held back by the amount of time we spent together. You drilled it in your head that I am the one for you. You ignored the fact that soulmates exist and now that you're experiencing how the soulmate bond works, you became confused."

Red could feel that Jeongguk was skeptical of his own feelings. He was probably thinking that it was impossible for him to fall in love with you with just a few months.

But you see, that was how the soulmate bond worked. It made the impossible possible.

"I know it's hard to suddenly believe into something especially when all your life, you ignored and denied the existence of it."

Jeongguk only pursed his lips into a thin line.

Red continued.

"You feel guilty for trying to unlearn what you believe is a myth, but it's okay, Jeongguk. It's okay to let me go. You aren't cheating. Your feelings simply changed. Don't let our memories together ruin what your heart truly wants."

Confusion was eating him alive again.

"H-How do you know all of this?" He asked softly, making Red chuckle.

"Why do you think it took me so long to tell you that I found my soulmate, huh?"

Jeongguk shook his head. He honestly had no idea.

"It’s because I also went through this, Guk. It took me months to finally admit the truth to you since I was so guilty. We have been together for almost a decade and I feel like it would be such a waste to just let you go, but the heart wants what it wants. It's so much easier to just let things go."

Jeongguk grimaced. He regretted being an ass to Red when they broke up. If he only knew that it was this hard to be in denial...

"But don't get me wrong, okay? Letting go doesn't mean that you have to completely erase your memories with people. I still treasure the moments we spent together and I love you, Jeongguk—not in a romantic way, but I will always love you."

He was his first love, his first friend. Jeongguk had always been there for her. She knew he truly loved her.

As Red talked about their memories together, Jeongguk then started to reminisce the moments he had with you.

It was weird.

Weird that your memories together were not even half as many as the moments he spent with Red, yet all that's on his mind was you.

This was what terrified Jeongguk. You barely spent time together, but what he felt for you was strong—too strong that it defeated his ten years with Red.

"I don't know what to do," Jeongguk choked out a sob. It's annoying because Red was laughing.

"You poor bunny. I wish I could tell you how I did it, but you have to figure this on your own." This was the last thing she said before leaving Jeongguk alone.

Alone with his treacherous thoughts.

He kept playing the conversation he had with Red, making him realize that his own thoughts was the one making this hard for him.

Red was wrong.

Jeongguk wasn't confused.

He knew exactly what he felt for you.

He was just too much of a coward to admit it.

He never learned.

The six months he spent away from you should have served as a lesson by now, but no. Here he was, still ignoring the ache in his chest.

Jeongguk regretted leaving you months ago. He had to admit that it wasn't instant though.

That's the thing about regret. It came into a beautiful form—a disguise telling him that this was what he wanted even though he knew deep down that it was not.

He hated himself because of this. There were many warning signs from other people. He had heard so many times that regret was a two-faced bitch. It felt good at first, making him feel like he was floating because he was finally free.

But then it would come back to haunt him—to drown him with what ifs and I should have—to suffocate him until he couldn't breathe anymore.

Jeongguk hated himself because of this. Why couldn't he be like others? He envied those people who could express their feelings in the right way. Those people who knew how to dodge regret.

He wasn't like them. He got overwhelmed too quickly—causing him to panic and do stupid things.

But really. What was his way of expressing himself? How could he ease the doubts in his head?

What kind of outlet would serve as his way to be able to express the heaviness in his chest?

Jeongguk could only think about one thing.

He went to his art room. There was too much space in this house, but his loneliness still couldn't fit.

Everything in this room was sad. The easel looked sad, the palette looked sad, his blank canvas looked sad.

It was sad that he couldn't find the will to paint anymore.

What was the use of seeing colors when he couldn't do what he loved? What was the used of seeing colors when he couldn't see the color in your eyes?

Jeongguk's lips trembled as he gripped the brush in his hand.

He really couldn't do it.

Maybe he should look at his previous works to get inspiration?

Yeah. That's probably the best thing to do...

Jeongguk brought out the box full of the things you had bought for him.

It had been half a year since he touched these materials. He couldn't bring himself to even look at this before. It reminded him so much of you.

Jeongguk let out a shaky breath.

The box was overloading with art. The months he spent with you caused him to produce these lovely sketches.

He smiled while looking at the pile of sticky notes on the floor. These were the ones he drew when he was overwhelmed with colors.

Sketching was much simpler. It calmed his raging emotions.

Jeongguk started to absentmindedly piece together the pictures in the sticky notes drawn by him.

"Holy shit," his eyes suddenly dilated upon realizing that these tiny sketches made up a larger picture of your eyes when they were put together—similar to a puzzle.

Jeongguk's blood was rushing. It was as if he was slapped by reality.

The larger picture was your eyes, the small ones that were drawn in each sticky notes were every tiny detail about you: your mouth, your neck, your fingers, and everything in between.

This was it.

This was his way of expressing feelings.

His lips lie, but his artworks tell.

Jeongguk understood now what Red was implying. She was right. No one could help him, not even the love you claimed you felt for him.

This was all on Jeongguk. He realized that he had to admit it himself that he loved you, that he wanted to be with you, and that he believed in soulmates because he wanted to and not because other people force him to do so.

Realization was the complete opposite of regret. The latter was slow, the former was instant. It would hit you when you least expected it.

Jeongguk was certain.

His doubts were cleared because he knew you could see colors now.

You should be able to see with flashing colors and light, so why weren't you?

"J-Jimin?" You whispered, uncertain, unstable, and unhappy.

You were surrounded by negative prefix that was making him feel sick.

When Jeongguk found out that he loved you, he imagined begging for forgiveness at your feet— telling you how much of an idiot he was and that he was willing to take whatever you could give—no, scratch that. You didn't have to give anything at all.

It was his time to show you how much you meant to him.

This was why Jeongguk texted you, asking you to meet him. When you didn't answer, he was forced to call you.

Unfamiliar voice welcomed him to bring the terrible news.

The person on the other line told him that you were in a hospital. Your car crashed because you were driving under the influence of alcohol.

Jeongguk didn't know what to do after knowing this information. He was out of his mind. It was a miracle that he was able to reach the hospital in one piece.

He remembered running like crazy, he was crossing the street even though cars were approaching. He ignored the profanities leaving their mouths.

He just didn't care about anything. He just needed to get to you.

He couldn't get to you—at least not now. The doctors were still treating you. Luckily they told Jeongguk everything. He didn't even need to show his I.D to prove that the two of were related. He only needed to tell them that he was your soulmate.

It's funny how he refused to believe in the idea of soulmate before, but right now, he was using it to beg other people to believe that you were destined to be together.

Jeongguk waited in vain, staring into the space and praying to God he didn't believe in.

Desperation always led people into doing things they never thought they'd ever do.

"You're Jimin, right?" You continued to ask, still unsure.

Jeongguk didn't know how to answer. You were acting strange. Couldn't you tell that it was him who was in front of you now? Was this one of effects of the accident?

"I'm sorry I keep asking," you bit the inside of your cheeks as tears filled your eyes.

Jeongguk was quick to wipe your tears away. His touch was gentle, but you still winced.

Everything about you hurt.

"I can't see you. I-I can't see anything. It's all black..."

Jeongguk's heart sank, his blood running cold.

What did you just say?

"I'm so scared, Jimin-ah. This is different from the colorless world." Your tears were flowing non-stop, similar to the painful sound that kept on hammering your soulmate's chest.

"I feel like I'm going crazy. There's nothing here, it's just darkness sucking me in."

You were quivering in agitation. You felt helpless. It was as though everyone was fully geared up and you're here, naked—just waiting to be taken advantage of.

Being blind made you more vulnerable. You just wished this wasn't forever. The doctors said that there were two probable reasons why you couldn't see.

The first one was because of the accident. They already treated your injuries, but they said you still needed an eye surgery. Apparently, you hit your head when your car crashed. They said you didn't need to worry since this was the most common type of treatment for people experiencing temporary blindness.

Temporary.

You hoped this was temporary. Your heart couldn't take it if the reason why you were blind was because of your tragic fate.

The doctors told you that your blindness might be because of the existence of soulmate. It had come to your learning that the medical world was now considering this myth as a reality.

If this was the case, you were really damned.

"I'm sorry..." Jeongguk blurted out. He couldn't stop crying after knowing what happened to you.

This was not how it was supposed to go. Why was the universe being so cruel to him? Was he wrong? Was breaking from the phase of denial not enough? Was he really your soulmate? But why...why did you turn blind after he finally accepted the love he felt for you? Was it not enough?

Was Jeongguk not enough? Did he hurt you to the point that nothing, not even his love, could bring you back to light?

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry!" Jeongguk wailed, he was aching to touch you, but he was scared to cause you pain.

He caused you pain.

He would always cause you pain.

This was evident when you felt a sharp pang in your chest upon recognizing his voice.

He wasn't Jimin.

You did not pour your heart to Park Jimin.

You told everything to the wrong person.

You made yourself vulnerable in front of Jeon Jeongguk. Again.

"J-Jeongguk?" Your voice was loaded with disappointment and sadness.

He sobbed even harder.

"I-It's me," his voice cracked. "I'm here."

It's me. I'm here. If you were the person you were before, you would probably be rejoicing now.

Jeon Jeongguk was here. You didn't know if he was here because of you or not. In the end, it didn't matter since:  "I'm glad," you said." I'm glad you're here."

You did not sound like you were glad. Not at all. Jeongguk couldn't be mistaken. Your voice was too monotonous to be considered happy. Your expression was impassive it made you look like you had no life.

But you were glad. You're sure of this because at least you didn't have to beg Jimin or any other people to ask Jeongguk to come see you.

He was here so you could already tell him what you had been meaning to.

"I'm sorry, Jeongguk," this was what you meant.

He did not understand.

Why were you saying sorry when he should be the one begging you to take him back?

"I'm sorry I made you feel uncomfortable so many times. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't say that," he cut you off, but you continued.

This time you were smiling.

"Allow me to," you gulped. "Allow me to so that I could understand why."

What were you saying now?

"I have to apologize and you have to tell me what I did wrong, Jeongguk. You have to tell me what I did to make you hate me this much."

You were crying. The pain was unbearable. It was making you think of the worst case scenario. It was making you imagine things that weren't true. It was making you feel like his hatred towards you was the reason why you couldn't see.

You were blaming him.

You had the right to.

He hurt you so much.

"What did I do to deserve this?" You had been a good person. You weren't hurting anyone consciously. You had been giving everything you had, so why? Why was your soul still bleeding?

"I let you go, Jeongguk. I am letting you go. Can't you do the same? Can't you really let go of the hatred in your heart and just let me live?"

Jeongguk couldn't speak. You were feeding your head with lies.

Jeon Jeongguk did not hate you because Jeon Jeongguk loved you.

He loved you with all of his heart.

"Let me go, Jeongguk."

With his body.

"I don't want to be your soulmate anymore."

And soul.

You did not want to love Jeon Jeongguk.

You loved him. Once. But not this time.

[tobiosmilktea]

the love club — miya atsumu

twenty one: temporary nothing

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: here’s some 2k+ words of badly written angst or whatever the hell this shit is ✨

atsumu pondered until his heart punched against his rib cage. his conversation with megumi was stuck within the confines of his psyche even in the early morning. he should be enjoying the last bits of peace and alone time with you before the rest of the team would eventually wake from their slumber and join the two of you for breakfast. 

furrowing his brows, atsumu’s gaze flickered down to you phone that was faced down upon the table.

furrowing his brows, atsumu’s gaze flickered down to you phone that was faced down upon the table.

furrowing his brows, atsumu’s gaze flickered down to you phone that was faced down upon the table.

usually he isn’t the type to invade someone’s personal space, but ever since last night there was a growing feeling of guilt within his gut. he hated the fact that he let megumi consume so much of his heart that he was even second guessing you out of all people. you were the one who didn’t even want to get close to him, yet here he was not minding his own business and possibly tarnishing it.

besides, he had caught on to how close in timing the vibrations were to when he would send messages. his suspicions and curiosity was practically eating him up.

atsumu flips over your phone. his eyes skimmed over random texts and notifications until he landed on a familiar message. it was then he felt his entire world plummet before him. it was as if his heart slowed and his mouth ran dry when he saw familiar words at the top of your phone screen.

[theloveclub] 10 new messages from miyatsumu

“what are you doing?” your familiar voice rang as you placed both of your breakfasts down on the table. confusion melted upon visage until the thought presented itself in your mind. it spread like spilled wine, making your pulse quicken and your reflexes to jump as you snatched your phone out of atsumu’s hand.

“rule number four to never break: to keep our identities safe,” you recalled the memory akaashi’s voice through a phone call from when you started the hotline, “always turn tlc notifs off whenever you leave your phone unattended.”

and you just broke it.

a shakey breath left your lips as you turned the app’s notifications off as if it were to undo the damage that had already been dealt. your eyes that were as wide as saucers looked back up to atsumu whose usual aura of borderless hues was dim and unreadable.

you open your mouth to speak. you weren’t exactly sure what you were going to say—maybe an excuse or a plain white lie, because surely lying can’t dig you a bigger hole right?

“atsu—”

“maybe megumi was right,” he spoke all hushed. he couldn’t even look you in the eye properly as he stared off into the distance, “i really don’t know anything about you.”

your expression contorted into confusion, trying to ignore how your gut coiled at the mention of his ex. “what?” you say, but it only came out in a mere whisper.

the setter pursed his lips as a beat passed. his shallow eyes finally meeting yours, almost hesitant to press any further knowing he was going to get hurt either way. “how come you never told me it was you?”

“you weren’t supposed to see that, it’s supposed to be anonymous.” you answered, trying to get this over with as much as possible.

“is it because you’re trying to get information to blackmail me or something, is that it?” atsumu suddenly accused, the ardor of fury mixed with betrayal and sadness mixing all into one concoction that made his fists clench beneath the table.

a scoff leaves your lips. you were almost offended to even think that of you, “why the hell would i do that?”

“the shit i talked about in those dms, y/n, were private.” explained atsumu, “who knows whether or not i could trust with that information knowing that you’ve hated my guts for so long.”

“i would never—” you tried to explain, but he cut you off.

as unnerving as a sharpened knife cutting through the air, the tone of his voice had changed severely when he spoke. “who else have you told? your boy toys that don’t even live in the same city as you?”

it was then something had struck within you. a splitting precipice between right and wrong, from sadness and confusion to annoyance and anger. boy toys, his words repeated themselves within your head and how badly you wanted to slap him across the face. how dare he call your friends that? “i don’t even get why you’re so angry. it wasn’t like your break up with megumi was a secret.”

“i literally talked about you in those dms, y/n.” the boy before you deadpans, “the girl i talked about each and every time i asked for advice was you and you didn’t say jack shit.”

the hurt was evident in his face and all you wanted to do was to close the space between the two of you, to hug him in one of those warm bear hugs that you rarely found yourself in. yet there was a chasm between you and atsumu, one both mentally and physically as your body couldn’t even move an inch.

you sighed, “i swear, atsumu, i didn’t know.” you tried explaining without avail, however it was the truth. you weren’t the type of person to assume something about yourself, in fact, you were way too modest and far too humble to even think someone as high of a caliber as miya atsumu would even look your way. not to mention he wanted a friend, not some second choice. “if anything, you made me sound like a rebound.”

“you’re not.”

a huff leaves your lips, refraining yourself from rolling your eyes into oblivion. “you and megumi broke up a month ago and you’ve already moved to to have feelings for someone else... doesn’t that sound like a rebound to you?”

atsumu tried to swallow down the forming lump in his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing as he noticed your burning iries and jaw tight in fury. “no,” he states as if it was a fact.

“no?” you repeated to question his sudden authority.

“because i’ve come to realize that i was never in love with her in the first place.” atsumu concludes, butterflies suddenly fluttering within the insides of his gut as he hesitated to say his next words.

he almost shut his mouth, yet he forced the words at the tip of tongue to be said because if he didn’t, surely things wouldn’t change.

things wouldn’t be the same as it used to be now that the peaceful dewy aura of tokyo mornings were filled with misunderstandings.

“it’s because the one i like is you, y/n.”

it hit you like a complete hurricane, like a downpour of such feelings filled you to the brim of the many unspoken epiphanies about atsumu you wanted to burst out saying, yet your breath hitched in your throat. this feeling—of stampeding heart rates, blazing hot cheeks of crimson that spread like a wild fire towards your ears, to the very feeling of the soaring bloom of monarch butterflies tickling at your lungs—this feeling wasn’t new, yet it certainly wasn’t familiar.

it almost felt euphoric. someone like miya atsumu, the guy you once hated to the infinite ends of your soul bad affected you this much, you didn’t know what do to. your feelings had never been so sure, yet so confused at the same time. however that euphoric feeling was forced to be lodged down your throat as you snapped yourself back into reality.

how could you feel as if you’d been kissed by a thousand suns knowing that atsumu loves you, but only found out through a fucking argument?

as fast as you were greeted by the suns, you were immediately burnt.

“get real, atsumu.” you finally spoke a bit shakey as a thin, glossy film threatened to cover your eyes. “you said it yourself, you barely know me.” your voice was no longer it's syrupy monotonous hum, the one that's usually hushed in deadpan was cradled in irritation instead.

the setter shook his head when he inaudibly scoffed. he ran his hand through his messy blond locks as his eyes, those goddamn eyes that could literally melt you in a puddle if you let your guard down for once, met yours again. “did it ever occur to you that i was always interested the moment we met? and that megumi was just some dumb obstacle that stopped me from doing so?”

that’s a stupid reason, you wanted to say but you held yourself back. this entire argument was idiotic, but here you idiots were: arguing in public.

“then why’d you let her?”

“because she confessed to me first and for once i felt like i wasnt hated by everybody.” atsumu explains, his shoulders slumping as he thought back on the memory. “... it was my first confession ever and honestly it came out of nowhere. megumi never talked to me in middle school, so having her suddenly say that she liked me felt like i was finally part of the normal crowd.”

atsumu paused for a second, eyes flickering over to read your expression that only softened once hishaze met yours.

“i was never really liked much in middle school because i became super arrogant due to volleyball,” he continues. “and at first i didn’t really care, but over the years i found myself desperate for everyone’s approval. and knowing how popular megumi was i thought dating her was going to change my reputation. and it obviously did... to an extent at least.”

so that explains it, you thought. as with most things, everything is always so complicated that even a year of running an advice hotline certainly did not prepare you for something like this.

silence fell between you like a wet blanket. it weighted you both down that the brught morning felt too gloomy to enjoy. even your breakfast was left resting upon the table the gentle hum of the morning rush continued to flow around you two.

atsumu believed that everything was practically falling into place now, but there was one thing he wanted to know. “why do hate me?”

it was a desperate question, no doubt, but he wanted so badly to know why he had fallen for someone so out of his reach.

“i don’t hate you, atsumu.”

he shakes his head, “no, you know what i mean. i want the real reason.”

you felt a lump form in your throat, hesitating to even swallow your pride and just say it. but it was strange how your body swears to not say something that you haven’t been able to even explain to your closest friends in years because of this.

“i hated you cause you were a fucking bandwagon.” you finally confessed, cringing at the way your words had immediately impacted atsumu despite preparing himself for the worse. “megumi and her friends hated me in middle school for no reason. the fact that you let her start manipulating you into not talking to people without fully knowing the truth made me hate you even more.”

atsumu had it coming for him. he really did. karma definitely got the best of him knowing that he let those terrible things happen to not only you but to others, and he didn’t do anything about it.

he knew it was going to hurt, but he didn’t know it was going to be like this.

it felt like a knife to the heart, yet this type of pain hurt more than whatever break up he went through with megumi because this was different. you were different.

because in the end everyone hates you, megumi’s words haunted atsumu and he just wanted it all to end. i get it, already. stop!

“but don’t hate you anymore.”

no it’s not the same.

you waited for atsumu to respond, but silence followed one after another. after a few missed beats, you decided that there was no avail that this could be the very last time you two were to talk to each other.

“i guess things are different now, so understand if your feelings for me have changed now that i’ve ruined your trust.” by each passing second, you felt your voice struggle to leave your throat. that lump within your larynx was growing bigger and bigger the longer you stared at his hurt expression.

you couldn’t believe that it ended up being you who caused that pain. and oh, how badly you wanted to fix it. but now wasn’t the time or will it ever be. this was all you had and it was gone within a snap.

“i’ll make sure to delete the dms and take you off the love club’s client list,” you began after you cleared your throat. “we can act like nothing had ever happened.”

atsumu’s eyes widened in saucers as he looked at you in surprise. end it?

no this wasn’t what he had in mind. sure, he was furious but he definitely didn’t want it to end like this. hell, he didn’t want it to end at all.

he wanted to badly to stop you from continuing before you said something you’d both regret, yet his thoughts were too jumbled up in his jungle-like mind that the words at the tip of his tongue appeared and disappeared before he could even say them.

“once we’re back in hyogo, we can stop associating with each other.” you began gathering your things before placing a few bills upon the table to pay for the food.

gaze falling upon your hand, atsumu wanted to badly to grab and tell you not to go, yet something was stopping him. his subborness was working against him.

“i’m sorry for wasting your time, atsumu.”

fun facts! —

atsumu ended taking y/n’a uneaten breakfast to go and planned on dropping it off at her hotel room, but decided you didn’t want to see him so he gave it to suna instead

on the bus ride back to hyogo, y/n sat with aran instead

the tlc boys don’t know what happened because y/n never told them, so they primarily found out through osamu telling tanaka

even then, they don’t know the whole story besides the fact they had an argument

taglist: (closed)

@kitsunetea @bftsukki @gyubit17 @katxsuki @alyssasteaparty @angsty-microwave @pleasemelafook-outta-ere @katsushimaa @dinonerdsimp @sakusakymi @deimmortales99 @nerumiz @evphology @atsunflower @noeminemi @chaelysian @lunebiscuit @hanbinplanet @crimsonrose720 @differentballooncollection @iwaizluv @90s-belladonna @terushimasbitch @apollochjld @shephard17895 @tremendousglitterthing @kara-grayson04 @clowninfortodoroki @gra-hamcrackers @bloomkings @highlyanxiousintroverted @verymuchbabey @miyaosamoo @achly @randomidksomeone @newborn-weeb @mx-minxx @callums-keith @lumiriai @unstableye @lovedanii @kritiiiii @ushisama @kitakure @gaychemicalwater @akakuzumo @noiramor @tsumu-core @stardustanni @ikemenweebo @veenusvalkryie (continued in comments)

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas-Seven

 Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

Warnings: major angst, language

I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings.

*this chapter has been completely rewritten.

Christmas Day

One day I’ll wake up and I won’t want to immediately feel like I’m going to die. Today is not that day, apparently. 

When I blink my eyes open, the very first thing I see is Dodger’s furry face. He’s laying on the bed next to be with his head on my chest, staring intently at me like he’s been waiting for me to wake up. He does this constantly to Chris and I, and we always find it hilarious. 

“Hi, baby.” I whisper, my voice hoarse from all the crying and the whiskey last night. I’m in our bed and to my immense relief, I’m dressed in a pair of soft sweats and a T shirt, which I have no memory of putting on. 

After we got back here last night, I went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured us both a drink and put on A Muppet Christmas Carol and cried and bitched and ranted about how much of a bitch my mom was, and Chris just kept quiet and let me vent. At some point I remember almost falling asleep on the couch and Chris nudging me awake, and then....nothing. 

I glance over at the nightstand and see that Chris plugged my cell phone in for me to charge overnight and there’s Advil and a gatorade sitting there. I don’t know how much good Advil is going to do since it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on my head, but what the hell. 

After peeing and brushing my teeth and hair to at least appear somewhat human, I make my way to the kitchen and stop in my tracks. Lisa is standing at the stove making what looks and smells like french toast and bacon, and there’s coffee brewing. Chris is sitting at the dining room table (after the debauchery that occurred on top of it a week ago, I’m sincerely hoping that Chris went at it with a ton of Lysol) looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

My fight or flight urge kicks in and I’m two paces into going back into the bedroom when I feel something soft but sturdy hit me in the back. 

In a flash, Dodger is at my feet, devouring the croissant that Lisa threw at me. 

“Not so fast. Get in here.” Lisa says. The look on her face and the tone of her voice leaves no room for argument. I turn back around and walk into the kitchen, leaning in to give Lisa a hug. 

“I’m sorry. I should have called.” I say softly. 

“Yeah, you should have. But that’s not why I’m here.”

The food finishes a a few minutes later and I help her plate it up and bring it to the table. Once we’re all seated, Lisa looks from me to Chris. 

“So, who wants to tell me what the hell has been going on the past few weeks?”

“Mom-” Chris starts. 

“No, save it. Something big is going on, and you’ve been lying to me about it. And I know you’re lying because you suck at it. And Scott knows what’s going on because every time I ask him about it, he looks like he’s about to puke. Now here’s what I know: you guys apparently had a fight. Kelly’s been staying with her brother in the city. I can’t get either one of you to tell me anything, which is a HUGE red flag, because neither of you have ever been shy about coming to me about anything. Now what is going on?”

I lace my fingers together and rest my fists under my chin. 

I know this is going to kill Chris. And it’s going to kill Lisa. And it’s going to kill me to have to fucking hear the words come out of his mouth again. And there’s a good possibility that Lisa will kill Chris, or at the very least beat the piss out of him.There’s a whole lot of killing that’s going to happen. 

Chris looks at me with such a profound sadness in his eyes that it nearly breaks my heart. 

“Just tell her. Get it over with.” I say sadly. 

“The reason Kelly hasn’t been here is because......” I watch as his eyes shine with tears and his adams apple bobs up and down in his throat. I close my eyes and try and brace myself for the words that brought my world down a few weeks ago. “I slept with someone. I cheated on her.” Lisa’s jaw drops and she looks to Chris, who’s barely keeping it together and then to me, my jaw clenched tight and my eyes closed. 

Seconds pass without a sound. Then a minute. Then two. 

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Her gaze swings to me and I can see her eyes brimming with tears. She reaches across the table and grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“I didn’t want anyone to find out until after the holidays. I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s Christmas.” I say softly. 

I watch Chris swallow thickly. 

“Honey-”

“No. You don’t get to talk right now. You were raised better than this. I raised you to be better than this. I’ve been proud of you you’re entire life, but right now.....right now I’m so disappointed in you I can barely stand it.”

I take my coffee and my plate up to my office on the second floor, not wanting to be there or listen as Lisa lays into Chris. As it is, I can still hear her yelling without hearing what’s being said. 

I knew everything was going to come out sooner or later. I just really wished that it would happen after the holidays. Between the disaster with my family last night, I guess it’s only fair that Chris has his turn. 

There’s a knock on the door as I’m finishing my coffee, and Lisa opens the door a bit, and I can tell that she’s been crying. 

“I don’t even know what to say.” she tells me softly as she takes a seat in the comfy armchair in the room. 

“I don’t know if there’s really anything TO say.” I whisper. 

“Honey, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you talk to me? You didn’t have to go through this all by yourself.” 

I pull my feet up on my chair and wrap my arms around my knees and look up at her. 

“I could barely begin to process any of it myself. When he told me, I kind of just went on autopilot. I didn’t want to be alone; part of me was afraid of what would happen if I was alone. I knew that if I went to you or Shanna or Carly or any of our friends, it would all come out, and I wasn’t ready for that. I couldn’t stay here with him. So I fled to Connor’s. I kind of trashed the studio, then just shut down. That’s why Scott knows. Connor called him because I physically couldn’t get out of bed for four days. He came to check on me and laid with me for a few hours. I was ashamed. I AM ashamed.”

��Kelly, the only person here who should be ashamed is my son. He didn’t tell me any of the details, and honestly, I don’t want to know. I don’t know what the hell was going on in his head. I am so, so sorry about everything. I just....I can’t believe any of this.”

A thought pops into my head and I turn to her. 

“How did you know I was here?” I ask. 

“I didn’t. I had Scott start on dinner for today, and I came over, determined to get the truth out of Chris once and for all, no matter what. He told me you were here sleeping. He gave me the Cliffs Notes version of what happened at your parents’ last night.” 

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Yeah, it was one for the books. I just couldn’t be around any of them last night. I just wanted to be here, at home.”

“What about now? Where do you want to be now?” Lisa asks. 

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry for all of this happening on Christmas. I hate feeling like the holiday is ruined. I hate that you and Chris are fighting. I hate that Scott and Chris are fighting. I just wish we could have a nice Christmas and just pretend that everything is normal.” I tell her. 

She takes my hands in hers and rubs them, warming them up. 

“If that’s what you want, that’s what we can do. God knows I could wring Chris’ neck right now, but it’s Christmas. If you think you can handle it, and handle everyone, we can do it. I’ll hold everyone off on the questions for today. But you know eventually.....you and Chris are going to have to sit down and talk.”

“I know.”

 The Usual Suspects: @averyrogers83 @wordywarriorwrites @imanuglywombat @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @hlkwrites @reminiscingrogers @mom—nicole @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @kelbabyblue @sarahp879 @moonlessnight14 @mojean13 @mrskokitztelford @artisticrogers1972 @southerngracela @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @mybesttobobcratchit @gracethegeek9902 @mdemontespan1667 @marvelfansworld @capslut2014 @dispatchvampire @jamielea81 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @southerngracela​ @what-is-your-plan-today @letsdisneythings​ @theladybiers @lexeeehhh @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @autumnrose40 @donutloverxo​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @jessaywahh-blog​@smediumsmeatbae @before-we-get-started​ @lizette50 @littlegasps @rageshots @what-is-your-backupplan-today @clairebubbles @patzammit @sweet--catrastophe @pandaxnienke @redhairedfeistynerd @hails270105 @syms-things-5

Kinktober 2020: @saiyanprincessswanie​ @superquirky-blog

[all-about-seggs]

His Majesty, My King :

Rating: ❌18+, Explicit ❌

Pairing: Timeskip! Oikawa Tooru x fem reader

Word count: 1.6 K

Warnings: Blowjob, face fucking, possessive behaviour, just oiks being petty again

Jealousy;

An emotion Toru Oikawa was far too familiar with. The all consuming thoughts of never being able to reach the heights he wanted to or the people he cared the most about with him slipping from his grasp, everything he felt strongly about made him both happy and insecure. One would think over time this deeply seated fears of his would dissipate when he was the right person but the passage of time can only heal a person so much.

When it came to your relationship with Oikawa, keeping a close sense of security was a struggling point considering his career. For weeks you’d have to be apart with only a few calls exchanged, after a few years you thought you had gotten to the point where distance became meaningless but you were still unaware of the pent up frustrations he felt when you weren’t on his side.

Even if you unintentionally made him jealous, Oikawa was nothing if not petty when it came to your attention, glaring at animated and inanimate objects alike. Frequent eye contact with someone who was not him, your bright smile and the other wonderful features of yours he adored was something he had the right to see the most and there was nothing he hated more than having his perfect moment interrupted.

Today seemed like just one of the rare occasions where he refused to calm after you paid moderate attention to your highschool friend you met by chance at the bar you were dining at. The person in question sat next to you in the bar stool and started reminiscing about the old days and you were trying to be polite but the same wasn’t true for your boyfriend.

“Don’t you think you’re getting a little too touchy feely there pal?”, slinging one arm around your waist he glared at your acquaintance, the creases between his brows deepening as his mouth curled into a dangerous smile.

“Relax Toru, it was an accident, he just brushed off a lint from my hair” you try to reason with him but his rage already got the best of him.

“ It’s not an accident when it happens twice”, his low baritone was only slightly different from a growl and you knew he was going to difficult.

Wanting to avoid the drama that would surely follow if you kept quite you pulled Oikawa by the arm to exit the buliding, leaving your stunned acquaintance behind with a silent apology.

The cold December air caressed your cheeks as soon as you both were outside, strutting alongside an angry looking Oikawa you kept gazing at his profile to catch any opening to talk him out of his annoyance. His claw like grip on your hand threatened to cutoff it’s blood supply and to any by stander it would probably seem like you were getting dragged off by a maniac.

The previously dull neon lights of the streets soon changed to twinkling starlight that lit up the whole path indicating the lavishness of the main market. The prominent vein bulging from the side of your boyfriend’s forehead made you decide against asking what you were doing in the overpriced high end lane instead of the parking lot where his equally fancy car laid.

Soon he stopped in front of a high rise building which clearly looked like a hotel and strutted inside as if a regular in the place. You saw him talk to the receptionist about the stay and honestly all you could think about his rushed tone that couldn’t wait to get you alone and with his hand still clasped to yours, you entered the elevator.

A standard gasp of awe didn’t do the room’s decadence any justice. Perched in the 50th floor, the two of you entered the lavish presidential suite of the hotel, a place where you’d never even think of stepping in if it weren’t for Oikawa’s habit of never sparing any expenses when it came to your dates. Just by stepping in the room you could feel the entire mood between you changing.

It was intimidating at the very least, with the tantalizing shades of red and black the entire suit reflected upon the rough night ahead. With a click of the knob, you heard Oikawa lock the main door.

“ If you haven’t figured it out already babe, we are here to make up for the time that got ruined by that ‘friend’ of yours”, spitting those words out he made his way towards the gigantic couch covered with dark faux fur, giving Oikawa’s form a menacing aura.

“ Strip”, he gestured to your dress that he picked himself for tonight and you were grateful that he wasn’t shredding it to pieces.

Starting with the zipper of your dress you slowly pulled it down and exposing first your chest and then the lacy black panties that matched your bra. You knew what he craved when his usually honeyed eyes got their dark glint so you put on the best show you could manage. When you reached around your neck to take off the necklace he stopped you.

“ keep them on and the heels too”, his deep voice reverberating from his throat filled the otherwise silent room.

Following his instructions, you now stood before him, stark naked except for the glittering necklace and shiny heels that matched your discarded dress. He eyed every single one of your dips and curves before giving you an appreciative nod.

“ You know what to do now, right?, After our evening got ruined, I atleast expect you to behave during the night”, leaning sideways on the arm of the couch, his sharp eyes urge you to speak.

“ Sorry, I couldn’t straight up ask him to leave,” giving him your best apologetic look you continue, “forgive me?”

Pretending to mull over your request, he takes a few seconds to reply, “ Beg me”, his words were expected so you scamper near his seated position and perched yourself on his lap. You ran your hands up and down his thighs, the tips of your nails scratching his clothed skin which soon bloomed with tiny goose bumps. Moving your hand to the front of his crotch, you started palming his hardening erection. He watched your movements with delight, petting your own head now in a show of praise.

You slowly pulled your hands away and carefully placed yourself in between his legs, with your knees now on the plush carpet on the floor. Your fingers made quick work of his pants and then lowered his boxers to take his cock in your hands.

Gently feeling his weight you left feather light kisses on the dripping tip of his cock to tease its head while palming his balls, your attempts at worshipping Oikawa’s body showed it’s effect as the room slowly got filled by the sound of his sweet hums. He usually wasn’t a quite lover but today he intended to make you work for his approval so he bit his moans back.

His eyes met yours, the sight of you kneeling in between his legs, sucking away at everything he had to give made his member more sensitive to your ministrations. He threw his head back, eyes fluttering close from the incoming waves of pleasure your mouth provided.

Licking his shaft a couple of times you took him in you mouth, swallowing it as much as your comfort zone would allow. Hollowing out your cheeks you bobbed your face up and down at your own pace but it wasn’t long before a large hand crept up your head and tangled itself around your hair.

“No, you can take me deeper than this, can’t you? Or do I have to teach you how to please your master all over again?”

Giving you little time to prepare Oikawa pushed your head lower down his length and you soon felt his cock touching the insides of your throat. Starting off with a brutal speed he face fucked you with all his might. You clenched your fists to stop your gag reflex it induced, your mind focused solely on pleasing him. His previously soft hums turned into rough grunts and soon his hips bucked upwards to meet your mouth.

Every tug of his hand in your hair showed his thinning patience and you continued to deep throat him till you felt his entire body shake with the toe curling pleasure that was inevitably building up. The air from your nose was becoming insufficient due to the onslaught of his cock and you almost resisted his hand but caught yourself in time. You knew he was close and didn’t want to ruin his orgasm so you held out.

Slowing down a bit he pulls his cock out of your aching jaw and starts pumping his dick with one hand, the other still in your hair.

“Open your mouth y/n~ And make sure you don’t waste a single drop of it”, cooing softly he placed the tip of his cock on your extended tongue and shot his cum all over your mouth and lips. The salty fluid filled your taste buds and you gulp it down without a second thought, the fatigue from his rough housing settling in.

As his thick cum trickles down the side of your mouth and onto your neck Oikawa once again gives a sharp tug to your hair, making you look up at him, love and lust both swirling within you, blurring the line between them and you were certain that both of you looked at each other with heart eyes until his dark tone cut through the room.

“Now, let’s take it again from the top shall we?”

[jagerist]

aot characters as college students

college student aot

pairing: none

warning(s): shitpost.

a/n: just for funsies. def shitpost.

characters: eren, armin, mikasa, jean, connie, sasha, hange, levi, zeke

eren

- got a full ride scholarship

-does not try hard enough

-says that if he loses his scholarship he will just take student loans and try again

-parties 25/8

-throws the parties (mainly bc he doesn't trust himself to find his way home after)

-will show up to class still drunk (but with sunglasses so 'noone knows')

-flirts with professors (does not help his grades any) ((he knows he just likes the conversation))

-will boot for underage friends. no questions. ("gabi you want a 24? that'll be $50." "why $50?" "25 for the 24 and 25 for me putting my ass on the line"

-no extracurriculars.

armin

-full scholarship.

-studious as fuck

-will go to parties with eren tho (will not admit it but feels like he has to make sure eren doesn't do something stupid)

-will tell eren its a bad idea to boot (will take a cut tho)

-knows his limits for alcohol. will NOT drink on a school night.

-lowkey flirts with professors and does get better grades for it. (it is what he deserves. the master manipulation is not his fault)

-is in extracurriculars, but mostly bc they look great on resumes.

-is student body president.

mikasa

-this girl parties.

-like, a lot

-rivals eren.

-manages to go to class and get good grades regardless.

-never has hangovers.

-the only one ever coherent enough to call a cab home.

-smokes weed, but does not make it her personality.

-somehow found herself in a sorority. she hates it, but they love her.

-has a major following on her finsta about the school where she shitposts

jean

-douchebag (but like a loveable one)

-if you are his friend he is a great person

-otherwise, dick.

-thinks he drinks as much as eren, is infact a lightweight.

-skips class all the time but somehow doesn't fail. (its bc connie will give him his notes)

-flirts with professors and had to have a meeting with the dean abt harassment. ("just bc I called her a milf?" "yes, jean. you cannot call the staff milfs." "damn.")

-smoked weed once, swore he saw jesus. (it was just zeke, b ut everyone plays along, including zeke.)

-posts thirstraps. the only comments are from connie ("yaaaaaas go best friend.")

-armin spams vomit emojis. so does sasha.

-his insta is followed by everyone, but just bc they want to laugh.

connie

-IS THE WEIRD SMOKER

-weed socks, bob marley sweaters, drug rugs.

-had shrooms once, thought. jean was a girl. was a weird night.

-wakes and bakes before class every day.

-good grades, he tries.

-works at Mcdonalds for extra cash, but has to borrow everyone's weed bc he's too broke.

-noone knows where his money goes (they're too scared to ask.)

-everyone gives him their weed bc its connie. he's good for it.

-he isn't good for it, but that's okay.

-only had one girlfriend, they broke up because his apartment had roaches. he called them his pets. he was trying to teach them a musical routine, she didn't like it.

-juice world shrine in his room.

-led lights galore.

sasha

-okay grades, has to put in effort.

-honestly kinda only in school for funsies

-the most fun at a party.

-will convince everyone to play games.

-beerpong champion.

-will bring out the karaoke machine. (in connies trunk just incase they need a spontaneous karaoke night. they have to have two mics bc she hogs one.)

-was dragged into mikasas sorority, stayed bc they have weekly meetings with provided food.

-is a country girl, will wear cowgirl boots in class.

-living her hannah montana fantasy.

hange

-incredibly studious.

-asks so many questions

-never satisfies with the answers

-took over a lecture once when they thought the prof wasn't doing a good enough job explaining the topic.

-brings poppers to parties

-blackout every time.

-never late for class though.

-like mikasa, never had a hangover. (thinks they're a myth)

-takes the mass amt of courses in a semester. tried to fight that they could do more.

-threatened dean once.

levi

-4.0 gpa.

-does not try.

-naturally smart as fuck

-will get a job in whatever field he wants.

-got high with connie once. (saw a roach and swore to never go back)

-dd. (not that he wants to, just everyone starts drinking as soon as they get there. fuck slow down.)

-makes sure everyone is safe, but will document everything they do and hold it over their heads.

-got pissed at eren and locked him outside in winter. forgot about him.

-thought he killed him and had to defrost him in the car for two hours before he dropped him off at home.

-gaslit eren into thinking it didn't happen.

-will take everyone thought he dt before he drops them off. will never use his card though bc the drunk fucks don't pay back.

zeke

-was really smart in college, but aint in uni anymore but still goes to the parties.

-dad friend

-will provide snacks

-dont ask abt his life

-he will cry abt it and ruin the mood.

-one time him and eren started talking abt their dad and shit got really heated. they ghosted each other for a month.

-has bitches, one for everyday of the week if he wanted.

-flirts with professors but will actually fuck them (since he's not a student anymore of course)

-rumour that he fucked the dean. (will not confirm or deny)

[junhuiste]

break the code (ex-wip)

pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

wc: 1900

tags/warning: basketball!soonyoung, college au, slightly suggestive language, cursing

a/n: this was something i started way back in 2017 when i was 15 lol and i tried going back to it and finishing but i just can’t seem to continue it!! but i don’t want it to just sit in my drafts so i’m just going to post the unfinished wip! i might do this with a lot of wips i’ve had collecting dust over the years (and they’re like 99% svt lol); if i ever do find some stroke of inspo to finish it i might but for now enjoy the 1900 words i wrote when i was a sophomore

“But babe, you’ll sit on my side, right?” Soonyoung continued to pester you with countless little questions to which he knew the exact answers to.

You pursed your lips at your boyfriend; mild sorrow and guilt clouded your eyes. In return he pout your favorite pair of plush pillows to kiss, with dull bleakness and dismals fogging his irises. It was hard, really, to resist the pull of a magnet, who was trying every trick in the book to coerce you to sit on his school’s side of the bleachers for the upcoming basketball game on Friday.

Had it been that both of you were just your run-of-the-mill university couple, tachycardia would’ve caused you to blurt out “yes” instantaneously just by being gazed upon by Soonyoung, but alas, the big guy upstairs made it to be so that you technically couldn’t through the rulebook of the sibling code.

A flushed palm extended to your denim-covered thighs, with the utmost desire lacing his fingers.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” His digits creeped towards your inner thigh, getting closer to the actual cherry he wanted on top.

“Soonyoung, no matter how well you do me, I’m still obligated to sit on my side of the bleachers.”

None of Soonyoung’s coercions could persuade you to decide about where to sit. You really would’ve preferred to sit on his side, but with your current situation, none of that was possible. It was a precarious oscillation between blood and water, and neither did you want to drown in with regret for embracing one over another.

“Fine. If you can’t cheer me on–which is a pitiful shame–let me take you out to eat after the game. And we can make out in my car or something so he won’t have to know.” Soonyoung’s gaze no longer held flashes of fervor, but rather a decadent gleam of sheer admiration.

“It’s a done deal, but you better promise me to dunk on him, or be prepared to get dunked on by him. As of right now, however, you owe me some kisses for making me wobble continuously back and forth between your side and his before I go,” you taunted, “come here you little rascal.”

Soonyoung gleamed at you piercingly, yielding you to lean forward against him as a shock of joy sparked up your back. His hand feathered along the back of your thigh, brushing it so longingly, with a tinge of impertinence here and there. You could feel the urgency radiating from him as he struggled to press you even closer to him, as there were no more gaps to be filled. He grasped your chin gingerly, before connecting his lips with yours, wanting to revel in dire coalescence he’d been awaiting upon your arrival.

Soonyoung is the warm bath you dip yourself into after constant exhaustion, the meager yet compelling and needed breeze as the sun beats down you, the red mark that’s actually relieving and boasts “A+” on a hard worked assignment, the last basket shot as the clock dashes away with the snickering seconds, and he is what has you torn on where your loyalty stands, but you can’t thank him enough for that strife.

You pulled away first because getting you two to separate would be a long ass haul, and maybe it was also getting late, just maybe. Your eyes glimpsed at the badgering hands that indicated 11:35 PM, and nothing but a sullen sigh managed to escape your lips.

It wasn’t fair, how time sashayed away, but there were no seconds left to spare to sulk about it, so you caressed the tranquility Soonyoung’s face possessed and left a lingering peck upon it. Knowing him, you’d expected him to grip your waist and pull you down with him into the waters of his joyous yet yearning ways but the coal haired boy enveloped you in an enticing embrace and with his lips hovering slightly above your ear, whispered, “Tell him to get ready.”

“I swear to God, I hate basketball,” your brother exhaled out in utter annoyance, to which you furrowed your brows at.

You always shifted in your seat restlessly, your heart palpitating at an ungodly speed of McQueen, eyes sought frantically to avoid meeting your brother’s, upon the dreaded word of “basketball” ringing in your ears. It wasn’t that you abhorred it, no, not at all; you absolutely appreciated the art of dunking and the pleasing note of swish through the hoop, but just not the people you knew personally who partook in it.

There’s always a Montague and Capulet narrative happening somewhere in the universe, always, and it just so happened that you were struck with the curse by some godforsaken entity of destiny of landing a role in your life as the fresh faced, ever so naive, youngest member of the Capulets–Juliet. And you dreaded the direction your supposed fairytale was headed the first time your boyfriend asked you to watch his basketball game, which oddly enough, was the same one your brother requested you to “bring all your hot friends” to.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t your brother’s undeniable libido for your friends that irked you and made you hesitate going to a basketball game, to which you’ve never thought twice about before, but it was the statement of, “God I am going to crush number 10’s ass.”

Number 10. Number fucking 10. Of course, it had to be the player that sweat through blue polyester and nylon, donning number 10 in white on the front and back. It could have been player number 13 or 17, for God’s sake it could have even been a negative number sported on the jersey, yet it all had to align in the cosmos to be player number 10.

You didn’t certainly deem ESP to be something legitimate, but on that day you swore to god your mind fucked you royally in the ass and placed you in Soonyoung’s dorm room the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing but the sight of a teenage boy’s niche, because a lot of basketball players had to have chosen the number 10 for their jersey, right?

The environment malfunctioned instantaneously with the repetition of “I am going to crush number 10’s ass” circling about a short circuit in your mind. From that moment onward, the sight of the jersey was unquestionably more radiant that it could have ever been, with the blinding, white number ten atop Soonyoung’s chair cackling obstreperously at your oh shit moment. Tuning in to your brother slander your university’s rival, Soonyoung’s school, was always such a joy (not) to participate in.

Every “basketball” here and there snagged you by the ear and dragged you to hell and back with it, provoking the cracks of your palm to drench in sweat and legs to quiver more than you had felt around Soonyoung before dating him.

“Yeah I mean it’s not like you’ve worked your entire ass off the past 4 years or so to even set foot on the college court you've been dreaming of since you were 13!” Diverting your brother’s mental debate on his love of the sport, it was a necessity to pluck something else from thin air to talk about, and not your school’s rival when they had games against each other, which was seemingly a bloodbath in their perspective.

Trying to escape your brother’s trash talk of Soonyoung’s team was walking through an eternal, pitch black, underground tunnel, no goddamn escape.

“They only got us last time because of number 10’s foolery. Jesus Christ, the kid better slow down or he’s wasting stamina. Can’t believe he holds the title of captain, like me. I motherfucking swear to God if I have to listen to his loud ass winning chant–” yadah yadah, number 10 this, number 10 that.

You would have dozed off to your brother’s lovely lullaby of scorn towards your boyfriend had it not been for a text…from your boyfriend.

[spoonyoung]

hii hiiiii heyyyy hello bby Hhhii babe i miss youuuuu hi!

[y/n]

i can tell u’re tired :( don’t be

[spoonyoung]

he's going to crush me dang flabbit

y/n

so ur nervous ??? bby it’s just a game istg,,both of you treat it like warfare

[incoming call: spoonyoung]

Shit, what the hell? This bitch, right now? In this economy, at this time?

Inside your chest was a drumline pounding, giving it their all, threatening to burst out and announce to your brother that “Hey, your rival is dating your sister! They’re probably going to fuck later but you don’t know about any of it!”

You would plummet into poignancy if you didn’t pick up his call, because there was no chance you could see him everyday, so honestly fuck that you guys attended different schools, and resorting to calling each other did bring both of you to ease, but not at this goddamn, forsaken time, with one you love phoning you with 17,000 vibrations per second, and the other idiot you were practically forced to love, perched next to you, indignantly gripping the wheel with such force you couldn’t decide which one generated more turbulence within you.

Tensely clutching what was now a scorching piece of metal, you held it up conscientiously to your ear, and forced yourself to breathe out calmly and collectively. Every single mention, tidbit and strand, bob and fragment of Soonyoung that was mentioned around you when you were with your brother grabbed your trachea in its firm hold and forced the wind out of you.

“Hey, Hoshi,” you managed to choke out in a level headed manner.

Hoshi. That was what you and Soonyoung agreed to nickname him if you ever picked up a call from him around your brother or his teammates, but god forbid you were actually allowed to have a life of any sort!

“Babe,” Soonyoung mewled out from the other line, “I actually can’t do this. Don’t tell him, but your brother is really good...of course he is.”

Frowning because of Soonyoung’s lack of usual mirth and brimming confidence, you sighed, “If you let it get to you, then your thoughts affect your actions, and you don’t want that to happen right? You’ll be fine...and I’m not just saying this to say something, but you’re really good too, and you can’t let one person bring your entire mood down...even if...you know…”

“Will you at least come with me to my dorm after the game?”

“Oh you know I’ll be doing more than that,” giggling into your phone, trying to sound as enticing as possible, completely engrossed in this very conversation, as it was all the time talking with Soonyoung.

Both of you had a habit of drastically turning your talks from upside downs to those of obvious elation. They were conversations sometimes needed to be kept in the comforting privacy, selfishly not wanting to let anyone else in on the baby i missed you’s and the do you need anything from the boba shop’s and literally you don’t have the right to look this good’s.

Startled by the grunting and hacking oh so wonderfully expired by the total jackass to your left, you contended to the third degree, with the patience that was never really there starting to thin out, “Do you need something?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Soonyoung to call coincidentally at the times you were with—more like right next to—his rival, probably because his

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Part 10

I’m participating in @wackydrabbles​ prompt 71 “Dont be stubborn. Try it.”

Word Count: 1890

Pairing: Liam and Riley

Thanks @burnsoslow​ for beta reading and pretty much having to drag me across the finish line, as well as all the weeks and weeks of listening to me whine and pity myself.  And @emkay512​ for pre-reading and your encouraging words late Monday that made my whole night.

a/n: this is crack, plain and simple. I haven’t written since mid-october; just been paralyzed with fear over my own writing and this is my practice run and basically the best I could come up with. I’m going to try so so hard to finish this series

The new royal couple, fresh off their Vegas flight, stepped up to a makeshift podium the press had created on the tarmac. It was packed tightly with news station microphones crammed in every nook and cranny, one on top of the other. Voice recorders were spread across its surface, and the crown's private jet served as the backdrop. A bevy of frenzied reporters -- domestic and international -- pushed and elbowed their way into one another in hopes of getting the closest shot of the newlyweds and a chance to have their questions answered first.

“King Liam! Is the marriage binding?”

“How long have you known, Miss Brooks?”

“Were you trying to make a political statement by having a hooker at the ceremony?”

“Your Majesty! Will the monkey be joining your court soon?”

So many questions, most followed by laughter and snickers directed at the King and his bride.

Liam frowned as his eyes dashed side to side in a diligent effort to understand the literally thousands of questions that were lobbed at him all at once. He blinked rapidly as one flash of a camera after the next blinded and bleached his vision. Just as it would return to normal, another successive set of flashes would set him back again.

He had been a part of news conferences since he was a child, when he would watch his late father speak from different parts of the world, near and far, about this policy or that deal. Yet this was different. This was not only the biggest breaking story in Cordonia -- or even Europe -- but one that had swept the world. 

His drunken actions two nights ago, no doubt, would have created a stir; however, it was Maxwell's post on Instagram of the ceremony that now made him tabloid fodder. Everyone knew about the king who was married by his own brother and an Elvis impersonator, the leg-humping monkey that served as a ring bearer, and the chain-smoking, tube-top-wearing prostitute who was the maid of honor. As confident as Liam had been that he could handle this, as he'd dealt with so many other stories of intrigue regarding the monarchy, he couldn't dispel the twisting feeling that burrowed deep into the pit of his stomach.

Maybe Madeleine was right: he had become a laughingstock. A failure. Just one big fuck up.

As much as he hated to hear the things said about him, he could deal with it. In the morning, he would call Prince Harry to swap stories, survival tips, and perhaps share a good laugh about it.

It was just ...

Liam felt Riley's tiny hand grip his a little tighter. He wouldn't blame her one bit if his little pussycat turned around and headed back up the steps to the jet and returned to Las Vegas. The only thing Liam wanted to do was keep her shielded from the hurtful comments and insensitive questions. But to his astonishment, she stood there with all the feigned confidence in the world, flashing a big, beaming smile that lit his heart on fire, while staring back at him affectionately. She was handling the situation better than she was before they stepped off the plane. He knew she was doing it for him. God, she just makes everything better. 

Feeling a little more grounded and in control, Liam returned her smile. A touch of radiance sparkled between his eyes and hers, as if it were some sort of unspoken conversation only they understood. Riley knew exactly what he needed at that moment to rise above this scandal they were both being raked over the coals for: He needed her to be okay.

Raising his free hand to calm the crowd so that he might address their concerns, he noticed the press' attention and cameras suddenly shift away from him and into the distance. Murmurs and chatter soon erupted. Naturally, Liam's gaze followed suit -- towards a group of heavily-armed soldiers heading their way. They wore white hazmat uniforms and had self-contained breathing apparatus and personal protective equipment. Leading the charge was a well-dressed gentleman in a three-piece suit with a shiny bald head that glistened with heavy perspiration. 

He walked like he hadn't shit in weeks.

Liam squinted and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. “The hell is that?”

Riley inched closer to Liam and clasped his suit jacket. "What's happening right now? Who are all those people, Liam?"

Liam's forehead creased in puzzlement; he didn't know. Wrapping his arms protectively around Riley, he pulled her even closer but never answered the question. It wasn't until the uniformed men stopped briefly and pointed to Drake, who was standing with his arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs, that it suddenly became clear who they were looking for.

Reporters and onlookers had been so focused on Liam’s return with the American woman, they hadn’t noticed that the brooding Walker had exited the jet last among their posse. Just as everyone had watched replays and snippets of Maxwell’s Instagram video, they were also fully aware the King’s best friend wasn’t exactly returning to Cordonia … healthy … thanks to Maxwell’s Tik Tok sing-along. 

A video Drake Walker had no clue existed. 

 The crowd began to disperse in fear and panic. If men in hazmat suits were needed, they could only assume this went well beyond your casual, run-of-the-mill STD.

Still in no mood to play around, Drake started yelling obscenities and gradually backing away from the hazmat brigade that was closing in on him like a cheetah at a water buffalo hole. 

"Mr. Walker," a heavily echoed voice called out, sounding oddly reminiscent of Darth Vader through their breathing contraption, "we need you to come with us."

"The fuck I do." Drake shook his head emphatically while continuing to slide away from them. "I'll beat the shit out of all of ya if you so much as touch me."

"Now, Mr. Walker, don't be stubborn. Try it, and you'll find yourself with a nice little tranquilizer to the ass. Are you going to come with us willingly, or do we have to make this more difficult than it needs to be?"

Drake stood motionless in disbelief. "I don't even know what you guys want or what you think I did," he squawked with a hint of desperation in his tone.

"Tough titties. SEIZE HIM!"

With that order, Drake twisted on the heels of his boots and took off, dodging and weaving away from a bunch of men he had no clue why were even after him. 

He had a pretty good hunch, though, who set this chain of events in motion.

The bald guy in a three-piece suit walked up to Liam and flipped his badge open. "Your Majesty?"

Liam nodded, not bothering to acknowledge the man's credentials. "I am. What is the meaning of all this? What the hell are you doing with Drake?"

"Sir, if you will, it has come to our attention that Mr. Walker is a public health risk and highly contagious. We will have to secure him into our custody at once."

Liam scrunched up his face in utter confusion and stared back at the official before responding, “He just has case of crabs, syphilis, herpes, genital warts, gonorrhea, and chlamydia. You’re treating him like he’s about to start some damn worldwide pandemic. Without sexual contact and with heavy doses of medications and creams, Drake should be able to live a normal life like anyone else. So, as the ruler of this country, I am ordering your men to stand down at once.”

“My apologies, King Liam, but my orders come from the World Health Organization and the United Nations. You'll need to take this up with them. Dr. Wolfschitz was clear on the protocol."

"Dr. Wolfschitz?" Liam questioned as realization quickly set in. He twisted around to face Leo, who had this enormous shit-eating grin, the likes he'd never seen on him before. "You? You did this?"

“Walker messed with the wrong bull, little bro.” Leo stuck up his pointer fingers on both sides of his head with a menacing scowl and smugness in his tone. “Now he gets the horns.”

Liam swatted away one of Leo's finger horns. “This is serious, Leo. Not everything is a joke! You're going to fix this, NOW!"

Leo placed a comforting hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, patting it a few times before speaking softly to him. “Look, I know you’re upset right now. You two were very close. But the Drakester is going to a far better place. There’s a big open field and everything where he can run and play all day with others just like him. And all the meaty bones he can eat too … lucky bastard.”

Riley had to bury her face in Liam’s chest to prevent the laugh that threatened to escape, but the bobbing of her shoulders was something she couldn’t hide. 

“NOW, Leo!” 

Leo tried to hold his ground but was too weak to resist the impatient glare Liam was burning into his soul. After a brief moment, he rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Why ya gotta be such a dillhole, Liam? Do you realize you get rattled faster than a two-tit turtle on a tightrope? It's really not your best quality, little brother, but we can work on that." Annoyed, Liam rubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned as his brother continued, "Either way, Father always said, ‘if you can't help your fellow man out, you might as well become one of the Walkers.’ Truer words were never spoken so eloquently.”  Leo raised his eyes to the heavens thoughtfully before thinking better of it and lowered them toward the ground. "May you rest in peace, Father," he shouted.

As Leo trotted off to speak with Bald Dude to confess his false claim, Bastien helped guide Liam and Riley through the rambunctious swarm of reporters and spectators. Once they reached the limo, Liam helped Riley inside as Maxwell rounded the vehicle and climbed in on the other side. Pausing for a moment before sliding in, the King placed his hands on top of the open door of the limo and turned one last time to check on his friend. He swallowed hard over the guilt of leaving him behind. As His Majesty watched in horror, Drake took a tranquilizer dart to the back of the thigh and Bastien insisted the area was a security threat, shoving him inside. They would send another car to transport Drake and Leo back to the palace. 

Bastien stomped on the gas pedal and sped off, kicking up dirt and smoke as the tires peeled and squealed against the fiery Cordonian asphalt.

When they passed through the airport's security gate, a small motorcade following closely behind, Liam finally lifted his head, his eyes growing wide when he realized what just happened: Bastien's shove had sent Liam flying across the seat to land face-first into a lap — her lap. 

He stayed frozen in place, unable to look anywhere but the two slender, bronzed legs peeking out below the hem of his new wife's dress. 

Riley lifted an eyebrow, a slight grin dangling from her plush pink lips. "Something you wanna say, Your Majesty?"

Everything that had just happened in the 15 minutes since they landed was long forgotten. Drake who? Liam glanced up with a devilish smirk. "Welcome to Cordonia, Pussycat."

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @loveellamae @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink

@liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography

@txemrn @ofpixelsandscribbles @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonblooms12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09

Liam x MC only: Cordonia-gothqueen

Anything with Drake: @tinkie1973

FRI Series Tags:  @sanchita012 ​  @narrytheworld ​  @queenwalton   @gabesmommie1130 @cordonianprincess   @liamandneca @emkay512 @waywardromancefantasygirl @nomadics-stuff @queendianaofcordonia @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @kat-tia801 @drrookie @sfb123

[onlyhereforangst]

WWR

I really wished I had gotten this done before the rollercoaster that was today. Yeah I’m looking at you NCIS press staff who threw the entire fandom into a spiral with this uploaded then deleted nine second clip that threatens to make us all riot. Looking. At. You. 

Anyways, this is gonna be short in comparison to Sangre because honestly there wasn’t a whole whole lot and also my mind is scrambled 🥴

So Nick at the elevator with Ellie’s firearms scorecard had be dying. Either he knows exactly when she shows up everyday because this is Eleanor Bishop and she’s nothing if not punctual, it’s just who she is. Or they are in such constant contact that she had literally just sent him a text that she was parking and coming up to the bullpen now. Or he’d been standing there for the past half hour while McGee tries to rib him for looking like an idiot and him refusing to move because she has to show up to work eventually. But my bet is the second honestly. Ellie acting coy and giving Nick a hard time is everything though because this is so usually not how it goes. He’s usually the secretive one (up until recently, I’m aware) and now she’s the one who’s all mysterious like yeah I’m a badass shot (and you know this Nick, duhhhh) but I’m not gonna tell you why my score is even better now so good that I maxed it out since it has to do with the training I’m getting from Odette that I *still* haven’t told anyone about. But shockingly enough boy learned his previous mistake last year in the jail cell and dropped it and didn’t ask more questions because he knows Ellie will tell him when Ellie is ready and ok to tell him 🥺 the respect for her and also trust she’d tell him if it was big (which ahem Ellie if this *is* because of Odette, oooooo you done messed up). 

McGee being bitter about not getting the body call had me cackling. Poor dude does not have a poker face 🤣

And then I stayed laughing with Kasie’s little commentary about streets for cars and oceans for sharks (my husband who dabbles in cycling would not be on the same page with the first part but definitely the second Kasie, I hear that). Why does Ellie’s look at the back of Nick’s head and his immediate getting Kasie back on track seem like they’ve just got perfect telepathy and know literally what the other is thinking, they’re just so in sync 😩

More ellick as partners and it’s just adorable as usual I love how they work together, they so efficient they already two steps ahead of McGee with everything. And 🥺 Nick’s catching Ellie’s attention while she’s thinking about Gibbs, that slight worry in his face as he knows this is hard for her because of their relationship. I love how much he cares without showing he cares. He would do everything for her, he wants to wrap her up and protect her from the dangers and hurt of the world. THIS IS WHY YOU’RE NOT LIKE MIGUEL NICK, THIS. YOUR DAD WOULD NEVER. Also Gibbs tells Ellie its not his call so she immediately defers to Nick to see what they should do? Ugh the trust. I love. 

OK so the hotly disputed scene in interrogation with McGee, Bishop and Hannah. I have thoughts and yes I wear ellick-colored glasses while I watch this show so yes I’ll be biased. Just like everyone has their own bias when watching so we can all believe what we want to believe since we also all know that we will never, ever get clarification. NCIS writers would never. Past plot lines coming back up, that’s cute. SO ANYWAYS. I love that it was Ellie’s idea to do the skeptic and hopeless romantic, for being a logical agent she sure is using her heart a lot in recent episodes I see you Ellie you can’t hide that Ms. Big-Hearted Bishop 👀 and yes the shaaaaade she throws out is 100% real you cannot convince me otherwise. Half these guys wouldn’t know love if it smacked them in the face?? yes. agree. A thousand percent agree. SHE SPEAKS FROM EXPERIENCE OK. And then the someone special in her life 🥺🥺🥺 oof we know you love him Ellie it’s ok you can just say it. You can say Nick has wormed his way into your heart with his dancing hips and his smart tongue. We know it he’s special to you he’s more than special he’s your loooooove 😭 and yes the GROWTH Y’ALL. We went from not trusting him with her phone- her pHONE. To now she trusts him with her life???? Because this man vowed from that night in the bullpen in 16x11 to prove to her that she can trust him and ain’t that IT. Good god is someone cutting onions around me?? He stood in the bullpen realizing how much he fucked up and said, that won’t happen again. She will trust me with everything big and small, to the point she’d trust me with her life and it will be my mission in life to prove this to her no matter how long it takes because yes it matters. Boy even pushed her out the way of a speeding car and almost died himself all for this lady and yes nick she knows you risked her life for hers and that’s when she realizes that shit this is so incredibly real and I’d put my life in his hands and he’d put his in mine without hesitation this is love. So yes if he asked her to do something (relating to Hannah here and also I think a piece of her knows that if nick had died, she would have been the one to kill Xavier), she would in a heartbeat. She would do anything for this man and while yes some of this is dramatized and played up a bit to get Hannah to open up, I firmly believe that it comes from a place of truth. That she pulled from experience and what she feels in order to play it best. Also partly why I don’t think this is in reference to Gibbs. She told McGee she was going to play the hopeless romantic card and she’s literally trying to appeal/connect with Hannah who is in a *romantic* relationship with the suspect. So naturally she’s going to mirror that with a romantic angle, not a father-daughter angle (that’s creepy when you think about it tbh - related to a woman who’s in love with a guy by saying you understand because you feel similarly about your “dad’?? No thank you) So yes, I’m in the camp that Ellie was picturing Nick while saying all this and surely she laid it on a little thick for the sake of the interrogation, but there’s an undercurrent of truth to her words and you can pry that out of my dead, cold hands because I will believe this to my grave unless NCIS writers magically remember old plots and prove me wrong. 

Nick busting out Hannah’s rhymes while Nick gives the little head bob yessssss. How many times had they done that before McGee got that update 🤣🤣😅

He’s still at her desk 👀 he’s always at her desk 🥰 and then the celebratory drink part…Nick’s look at Ellie…more silent communication because they’re just on the same page and you honestly did not need to look at each other that long but ok, can’t keep your eyes off one another even though McGee asked a simple question. But the better question is did they still go get that celebratory drink with McGee or did McGee decide to go home since Gibbs screened their call and they went out to get that drink by themselves 👀👀 and really it’s just Ellie drinking and getting flirty throwing some arms around some shoulders 👀👀 I don’t hate this is that why you guys get all cozy in the bullpen next episode huh nick 👀👀 can’t stop it after tipsy Ellie is falling all over you with how close y’all are now I see how it is 👀👀

But yeah tonight’s episode. I’ve gone on a clown rollercoaster today and I can tell you I’m not looking forward to the emotional turmoil that will be tonight- however it turns out. Who am I kidding i live for this shit I’m a clown forever through and through. 

[eddiesfaerie]

Going Under

Summary: As an undercover detective, it’s not unusual to break a few rules to get some classified intel. You just can’t seem to figure out why Flip Zimmerman would want to help you out. (5.3k words)

Warnings: possible spoilers for Blackkklansman, angst, mentions of KKK, mentions of police, mentions of gun violence, period related sexism i guess, f!reader, enemies to lovers?, pissed + jealous Flip :) 

A/N: thank you all for the sweet comments (listed below along with the prompts), and so sorry for how long this took to write, I have 3 prompts combined here and I think i’m pretty happy with how it turned out:) i hope it’s okay that i reworded some of the prompts just so that they fit in better. i hope you enjoy <3

Based on:

Congratulations on your 300!!!! I’d love to request these prompts with Flip, if you’re feelin it! 2 and 4 from the angst prompts list and 5 and 15 from the types of kisses prompt list. Thank you!

from the angst prompts list “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you!” with flip?? You’re such an amazing writer im here every damn day 🥺🥰

Kisses #45 and “you’re driving me fucking insane.” For Flip, if you’re still taking requests, please! Your writing is fantastic! :)

Skin tight and sparkling, dazzling too. This was not your usual work attire.

Well, this wasn’t your typical work outing either.

An informant had come forward, said he had intel on the KKK and their next meeting. Information even Flip (an undercover infiltrator himself) wasn’t aware of. You couldn’t pass it up. And you didn’t want to give up your informant to the precinct, so you decided against telling anyone about your meeting with him.

It was probably a bad idea to have gone back to the office to grab your audio recorder in the outfit you decided to wear to your meeting.

Because of course, the only man who ever stays this late at work, hunched over files and files of names, dates, events, anything relating to his case with the KKK, was here.

Flip Zimmerman.

You thought you could walk by him without catching his attention. You thought if you stayed in the darkness of the hallway, swallowed by the shadows he wouldn’t notice you. But Flip was good at that, he was good at noticing things.

The sequins of your dress reflected the light from his desk lamp, catching your silhouette in the dark hallway. You fucking siren, what were you up to?

“Detective.” He called out to you from his desk, all too cooly with a cigarette bobbing between his lips. He hadn’t even looked up at you. You tried not to flinch at his sudden firm voice, booming at you and jumping your bones.

“Zimmerman.” You waved, stopping in your tracts, lifting a hand to him and waving dumbly.

He finally looks up from his coffee stained files, making direct eye contact with you. A sly smile stretching across his face as he leans back in his chair, his eyes raking up and down your body as you move closer to him, settling awkwardly against the doorframe. He takes a particularly long drag from his cigarette.

“Whoowee, where you headed looking like that?” He asked through his smile, glancing at his watch to catch the time. It was getting close to midnight.

“Just… out.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you have to come back here for? Needed some pepper spray in case the guy tries something?” He’s intrigued now, questioning you like he would an informant. He leans forward on his desk, resting his weight on his forearms, cigarette between his long fingers now. You play along, laughing with him. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, something like that.” Flip nods, chuckling to himself as he brings his cigarette back up to his lips, taking another long drag. You try to look away as he blows smoke out of his nose. He stands up from his desk, walking slowly over to you in the doorway.

“Cute.” He nearly sneers, taunting you. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s really going on, hmm?”

“I’m just-”

“I saw you grabbing the audio recorder.” He says, shutting you down. Defeated, you sigh rather loudly, your shoulders sagging as you run a hand down your face.

“I’m meeting an informant.” You try to keep it short and sweet, hoping he won’t pry but Flip just raises his eyebrows, signaling you to continue. You sigh again. “He’s giving me intel on KKK activity, a possible outing that’s coming up.” Flip rolls his eyes.

“Rookie listen... I’m the one who gets KKK intel around here. What does he know that I don’t?” You shrug your shoulders, trying not to let the dumb nickname ‘rookie’ sting as he spits it at you.

“All he told me was that there’s something going on this week that’s really hush-hush, even between members. He couldn’t elaborate more than that over the phone so I agreed to meet him at a bar.”

“Alone?”

“I can handle myself, Zimmerman.” Now you roll your eyes, you hated how much he doubted you, he always had. You were just really good at ignoring him, ignoring his stares and comments. Usually.

“Do you have any idea how fucking stupid that is? These people are sick, they’re not right in the head. I’m… I’m coming.”

“What? No, Flip I’ll be-”

“I’m coming. This isn’t up for debate... Wait here, I’m gonna go get you a microphone.”

You fought the whole way to his truck, which he insisted on taking. You told him he would blow your cover, you told him he would make things obvious, probably scare the guy. You told him that maybe he would recognize him, recognize him as ‘Ron’. Flip didn’t say shit in response, just opened the passenger door for you and jogged to the driver’s seat, lighting up a new cigarette as he drove you two to the bar.

The car ride was tense, you fidgeted with the hem of your dress, acutely aware of how much skin you were showing, you could feel Flip’s burning eyes on you as he stole glances every now and then.

“You’re unbelievable.” You huffed, crossing your arms and looking out the window, trying to keep your mind focused on the mission.

“What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable. Somehow you’re going to manage to get all the credit for this too.” Flip brows furrowed in confusion, he turned to look at you properly for the first time since you two got in the car. He said your name but you averted his gaze as soon as your eyes met. A fleeting moment of tenderness passed through him.

“Doll, what are you talking ab-”

“We’re here.” You’re thankful for the switch of subject as you sit up suddenly in your seat, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning forward to look into the place. You had no idea what the guy looked like. You assumed he would approach you once you were inside. Flip parked further down the street, on the opposite side. Thankfully it was a one way street so a get away, if necessary, would be easy.

“Hey don’t just jump out, the fuck-”

“Hand me the mic.” You said with urgency. Flip felt flustered watching you move, the way your breasts pressed against the fabric of your tiny dress, the soft swell of flesh at the perimeter of the shiny fabric, begging to be kissed, touched. He shuddered but turned quickly to hand you the mic kit, grabbing the headphones for himself.

You lifted your dress carefully so as not to expose your entire body to him. You pressed the microphone right in between your breasts but underneath the fabric, right above your belly button. Flip sucked on his cigarette, watching for a moment too long before turning his head away, giving you some privacy. You muttered a tiny ‘thanks’. Flip just nodded, gaze averted as he stared out his window into the dead of night, images of your body burning into the back of his mind. Fuck, you looked so soft, so pretty. You shouldn’t be doing this...

Once you were done tapping the mic to your flesh, you secured the battery pack to your underwear. Thankfully it was thin enough to not cause too much of an obvious bump in your silhouette, the informant wouldn’t notice, not that he would really mind. He probably knew you would be recording something but he wasn’t the problem. KKK members were everywhere, they blended in, they could be anyone. You had to be sneaky, hide away from prying eyes that look for detectives, for cops.

But you were good, you were good at being sneaky, conniving. That’s why you were hired. Tonight, you would just look like you were on a friendly date.

You opened the car door, your heels clacking against the concrete. You close the car door quietly behind you, nodding at Flip before heading inside. Flip was easily more nervous than you were. He had experienced these guys first hand, you hadn’t. He knew how fucked up they truly were, how sick and twisted their minds were. Not only did they not trust anyone who didn’t look like them, they were weary of newbies too, white folks just like them.

Images flash in his mind of Felix holding him at gunpoint in his stale basement, threatening to pull the trigger if he didn’t prove he wasn’t circumcised, prove he wasn’t Jewish. Flip thought he was going to die that day. Truly thought he was going to be killed by some nazi in a basement. But Ron saved him, Ron sacrificed himself and saved the whole mission. Flip hoped it didn’t come to it tonight but if it did, he hoped he could save you too.

Chatter on the radio filled his headphones, cutting off his looming thoughts. Your sweet voice filled his head, surrounded him, nearly throwing him off balance in his seat. He tried to look into the bar, to see if he could see you from where he was parked but to no avail. You had sat somewhere out of eyesight and that made Flip nervous. He would have to work based on the tone of your voice, he’d have to judge for himself if you were in danger.

“Hey, George right?”

“Nope, but that’s the name I gave ya.” The guy chuckled. Flip didn’t recognize the voice, probably someone he hadn’t met, it did nothing to calm his nerves. “Didn’t think the name you gave me was yer own so, figured I’d play yer little game, right Pamela?”

Pamela. If Flip wasn’t so high strung, he would’ve laughed at that.

It must have been what? Only last week that he and some of the guys were briefly discussing Pamela Anderson after catching Jimmy reading a magazine she was featured in, teasing him about it, perhaps making too many lewd comments. Maybe you had caught that. Maybe it was a coincidence. Either way, Flip was flustered beyond belief.

You laughed anyways at ‘George’s’ comment, the sound made Flip feel drunk.

“So, what do you have for me George?”

“Now now darlin’, what’s the rush? Why don’t we get somethin’ t’ drink first?” You laughed again, fabric rustling too loudly.

“Sure... I’ll just have a Coke.” You say dismissively. Flip can hear ‘George’ ordering in the background while you seem to fidget around, maybe adjusting your dress.

The conversation progressed at a frustrating pace. The informant kept swerving around your questions, ordering too many drinks which made his sentences harder to understand, and that deep southern accent of his wasn’t helping his case either. Flip could hear the anger and frustration seeping into your voice, coating your words with a vicious bite and a sickeningly sweet laugh, trying to play it off cooly as to not give away your cover. There were too many fucking rednecks in this part of town.

On his fourth drink, ‘George’ started letting his hand wander over to yours which rested on the bar countertop. You could tell he thought he was being real smooth, letting his fingers just graze ever so slightly over yours, followed by a gentle tap of his hand over the back of your palm, then he started leaving it there, running his thumb over your soft skin. It made your skin burn, not in that pleasant way but in the way that makes your stomach feel like it’s about to churn your Coke up your throat and out of your mouth, onto his nice shoes.

The worst part is you let him touch you, you let him get handsy all in the hopes of gaining information. Don’t blow your cover, don’t blow your cover, don’t blow your cover.

“So…” you start, stretching casually, trying to rid your body of his grabby hands. “I hear Mr. Duke is supposed to be making an appearance, sometime at the end of this month right?” George nodded, reaching his hand over to you again, clearly he only had one thing on his mind, and that was not David Duke.

“Yeah darlin’, he sure is. I’m sure he’d like to meet somethin’ as pretty as you. I’m sure he’d like to show ya what the organization is really capable of… they’re gonna make things go boom.” His hand had managed to slither itself around your waist, pinching your skin through the dress. He was practically standing next to you now, breathing down your neck.

Even Flip, who still sat all the way outside in his truck, could tell he was standing closer to you now based on the way his voice had moved in regards to the placement of your mic. It was coming in almost exactly where yours was. Was he hovering over you now? Touching you? He heard loud rustling, a clear agitation of the microphone taped above your belly button, how handsy was he getting? Flip’s heart started beating faster as he weighed his options, unsure of what to do, how to go about this situation stealthily.

“What do you mean, make things go boom?” You asked, bless your fucking heart, still going along with the mission. Still trying to coax answers out of this man who did not give one single shit about you or the information he promised. The more Flip thought about it, the more he realized this guy was probably just using you to go out on a date with someone way out of his league. George chuckled darkly, the sound disgusted both you and Flip.

“Why don’t I… explain it to ya real nice and real slow in the bathroom-” Flip flung the headphone off his head, grabbed his pistol and jammed it into the back of his jeans, making sure his flannel covered it as he secured it in his belt. He threw his hat on, tucking it low over his eyes and ran into the bar, only slowing down to a saunter when he entered. Be fucking casual.

He got the slightest glimpse of a man entering the bathroom before he disappeared behind the closed door, and then he saw you, shining in the dark light of this dingy bar like you had a god damn halo around your head, perched perfectly on the stool like you weren’t having the worst time of your fucking life. You made wide eyes at Flip, shooing him away with a flick of your wrist but he just marched right up to you, grabbing the hand you were trying to motion him away with.

“Fli- what the fuck?” You whisper yelled at him, nearly saying his real name. You glanced over at the bathroom door that ‘George’ so confidently stormed into, so sure that you were hot on his trails, so into the idea of him fucking you. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Come on Pamela, we’re leaving. This is over.” You glared at him, squinting your eyes, shooting fake lasers at him as hard as you could.

“But I can still get something out of him, let me-”

“I don’t think you and ‘George’ have the same idea of what it is exactly you’re going to be getting out of him tonight.” Flip glared, his fist clenching around your wrist, so small in his grasp. His eyes were filled with an emotion you didn’t think Flip was capable of feeling, fear.

“Let’s fucking go, pumpkin.” He spat the nickname out at you, it was better than rookie, but it still felt like a slap in the face coming from him in that menacing, annoyed tone.

You abandoned the mission. You let him drag you out of there, ‘George’ being none the wiser as he probably jacked off, alone in a stall with no one waiting for him on the other side of that door anymore. You didn’t feel bad, you just couldn’t help but think of what a pathetic situation this was, how stupid you had been to think this would work.

You thought about what could have happened if Flip wasn’t there to come knock you to your senses and out of your own stupid fucking naveity. You bet he got some weird, sick pleasure from watching you fail, maybe he felt guilty and felt the need to put an end to your suffering. He was always two steps ahead of everyone anyways.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You yell at him once you’re finally outside, standing next to his truck. You rip your hand from the vice grip he had you in, Flip only turning around to glare at you when you do so.

“What the fuck is my problem? Rookie, he had his hands all over you, you were just gonna let that slide? Let him have his way with you?”

“Why do you care how I get my intel? I could have gotten something good, something useful.”

“Hmmm, sure. You go ahead, believe that. Keep indulging yourself in that fucking fantasy. He just wanted to fuck you!” He yells, voice booming down the street and it startles you, quite literally knocking you off your feet. You stumble backwards, stumble away from him.

Flip leans back against the side of his truck, pressing his palms into his eyes, trying to shut everything out, regain control. He didn’t mean to yell, really, he didn’t mean to. He just couldn’t stop the images flashing in his mind, ones of you sitting pretty while that faceless creep put his hands all over you, touching you, groping you.

He groaned something into his hands, unintelligible to you. You rolled your eyes at whatever it was he said and took a few steps forward until your hand rested on the car door handle.

“Let’s just go, Flip. Before he comes back out and notices I’m gone.” You say, voice much quieter now, gentler, smaller. It surprises Flip, he wasn’t expecting you to back down from a fight with him so soon.

You two always had such charged energy at the office whenever you were forced to interact, it came out in sharp comments from Flip and icy glares from you. You were getting sick of it if you were being honest. Flip sort of was too, tired of all the unnecessary coldness he always approached you with. Maybe he was just covering something up, repressing something.

But Flip nods his head and walks to the driver's side, starting the engine and driving back to the station.

The ride is quiet, much like the ride over except now you’re trying to stop your lip from trembling and your eyes from fluttering shut, threatening to spill the tears that well up in your eyes. How could you be so fucking stupid? How could this have worked? How could tonight have gone the way you thought it would?

“I’m sorry.” That low, baritone voice grumbles from the driver’s seat. You wipe your tears away that managed to fall with the back of your hand, turning to look at Flip in confusion.

“For what?” Knowing tonight would be a disaster? Knowing that you would’ve fucked something up eventually?

“That tonight didn’t go the way you wanted it to.” He kept his gaze ahead, not daring to turn and look at you in that dress with that sad expression on your face. He knew it would break him, make him say things he wouldn’t dare admit, say aloud. “I ruined it. I’m sorry that I fucked up the mission.”

That you were not expecting. Detective Flip Zimmerman apologizing to you. You. Of all people.

“It’s fine… you were right afterall I just… I just didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to do this myself, you know.” You shrug, as if it was no big deal. You wipe another tear that falls and Flip looks then, that fateful moment that he allows himself to look at you.

Eyes shiny, wet and big, looking right back at him, into him. Lips swollen, puffy. You sniffle, pulling your lips taught for a moment before they go back to their resting place, begging to be bitten, licked. Your chest moves gracefully somehow as small hiccups wracked your diaphragm and lungs, making it heave slightly as you try to restrain your sobs. Flip thinks he nearly crashes his truck, but he doesn’t, and you say,

“We’re here.” And he nearly gets whiplash from what a déjà vu this is. Reminds him of the beginning of the night when he had no idea what was in store. Somehow he even managed to park without realizing.

“No, I… I shouldn’t have been right. He shouldn't have acted that way. I just- when I could tell he was touching you… no one should touch you like that, not if you don’t want them to.” You sit there flustered, listening to him go on, voice low like the volume on the radio that you didn’t even notice had been turned on this whole time. You’re astonished. You can’t believe this is the Flip you know, standing up for you, advocating for you.

Flip sees the way you’re looking at him and hell, he’s just as surprised as you are. Suddenly embarrassed for going on such a tangent, he unbuckles himself and steps out of the car. You follow quickly behind him, his strides long and fast with those legs of his. You head into the building and follow him into the storage room so you can remove the mostly useless tape from tonight and return the audio recorder and mic that you borrowed.

The room is dark, stuffy from not being used in hours, the windows shut tight. Flip switches on a little desk lamp and you get to work removing the tape from your body. First, you unclip the battery pack, pulling the wire out from your dress and then your only left with the taped part.

You rip it off like a bandage, only a small noise being emitted from your throat at the sweet burn it left in its trail. That red mark would take hours to disappear, you would have to moisturize it when you got home.

“You good?” Flip asks, barely looking up from what he was doing, which was removing the audio tape from the recorder, writing down the date and names on it before storing it away to be reviewed tomorrow.

Questions burn on your tongue, wondering why he decided to help you tonight. Why he ‘came to the rescue’, why he felt the need to involve himself in something he could have just left alone. Something he could have just not asked about when you ran into him earlier this evening. Why did he-

“Why do you hate me?” You settle on, ignoring his question and shooting one back at him as you place the mic back in it’s box. He finally looked up at you, completely puzzled, like before. You roll your eyes, surely he must know what you mean. How could he think that you didn’t know how he hated you.

“Come on, Flip. I’m not in the mood for games, just answer the question.” You frown, shaking your head. It pounded and throbbed from the inside out, you felt like your head could truly combust right now. You just wanted this night to be over with, you wanted to go home and wash it away.

“You think I would have done that if I hated you?”

“You can still hate me and be a decent person.” You spit, turning away from him and willing your brain to stop creating more and more tears. They stung in your eyes, begging to be set free but you didn’t want Flip to see you cry, didn’t want him to know he could do that to you. You were just tired, emotionally drained.

A large warm hand placed itself on the small of your back, its warmth quickly travelling throughout your body like wildfire. Flip’s hand doesn’t wander, it stays put, just letting you know he’s there.

“I don’t hate you, Rookie-”

“Stop calling me that.” You whisper, voice so small, squeezing your eyes shut, willing, willing, willing the tears away.

And then Flip says your name, possibly for the first time all night. And it fucking breaks you. His voice, so soft, gentle even. Quiet to not alarm you, the words caressing your ears, kissing your flesh. You want to melt into him, you don’t know why but you do. You want to stop fighting this…

You turned around to face him, his dark eyes boring into yours. He was much closer than you expected him to be. His hand hadn’t moved from its place, where it once rested on your lower back, now it grazed your hip, ghosting above the perimeter of your body like he was scared to touch you, frightened.

“You drive me fucking insane… but I don’t hate you.” His voice was quiet too, just like your own. Like the two of you were afraid to speak too loud because it would shake the dust off all these old files, awaken the ghosts.

“You drive me fucking insane too.” You want to laugh, you really do. Maybe you never hated him, maybe he never hated you. Maybe you made it all up, confusing one kind of tension for another. Maybe you really were naive, stupid.

His hand wraps itself around your waist, the other coming to do the same nervously. They truly engulf you, his hands. Big, warm and strong, they pull you closer to him and you gasp when your bodies collide.

“Flip-”

“When I heard him… when I heard how he was talking to you I just, I don’t know.” Flip takes a deep breath, letting his head lean down so that his forehead rests against yours. The intimacy startles you. You want to pull away from him but.

But you don’t. Instead you bring your arms up to hold the sides of his strong neck, feeling his pulse thrumming against your palm. What was happening? What were you doing-

“You, in this dress… fuck. I would have killed him if-if… He didn’t deserve to see you in this, didn’t fucking deserve to know what it feels like to touch you in it…” Flip’s voice trails off, it was quiet to begin with. His hands clutch the fabric at your waist, as if trying to draw you in closer to him, and you’re left speechless, just watching in awe as he works through his thoughts. That familiar crease between his brows appearing. You find yourself wanting to smooth it away, whether it be with your fingers or your lips you don’t care. You just- you just want to show him something other than that coolness you always give him. You want to be warm for him.

“And you do? You deserve it?” You tempt, not sure why you’re even bothering stepping on his toes at this point. You suppose old habits die hard.

“You tell me.” He whispered, nudging his nose into yours and you gasp quietly, your breath fanning across his lips and he swears he could just melt into you right now, if that’s what you wanted. If you’d let him.

And you… you’re still too dumb to know what it is you want, too naive to give in, to melt into his hands. After what happened tonight, you’re scared, scared of how easily things can go wrong in ways you never could have foreseen.

But Flip saw.

Flip noticed.

Flip was there. Maybe you two would make a good team...

Taking a chance, you let your hands move to wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your nose into his before… before Flip lets you make your move, lets you come onto him, safe in his arms. He holds you so, so close as you let your lips brush against his, breathing him in, still deciding.

So indecisive, Flip thinks. He would laugh at you right now if you didn’t have him completely wrapped around your finger, hanging on your every move, waiting, waiting for you to take what you need from him.

You press into him, with your body and your lips, letting him hold you as close as he possibly could. Flip sighs against your lips, melting into your touch as your fingers comb themselves into his hair, tugging when you reach the ends. He groans, folding over you, tilting his head and opening his mouth for you, he runs his tongue against your closed lips. Asking.

Yes, you want to say, you want to yell, scream it at him. But all you do is moan pathetically into his mouth as you open up for him, blooming like a flower as his tongue dances over yours, pressing into your mouth, deeper, deeper. Flip groans too, he needed this as much as you did.

Whether it was from the frustration of tonight’s events or the tension that had been pulled tight between the two of you like a tightrope, building for months and months on end, but both of you cracked underneath the pressure of the night.

As Flip worked his jaw on you, he stumbled, falling into you, pushing you back until your ass hit the desk behind you, making it scrape and screech across the floor. Files flew off, pens scattered, rolling across the floor, even the lamp rocked back and forth, back and forth with the force Flip tackled you with. You whimpered into his mouth, letting him move you how he pleased.

You felt his hands slither down your body with haste, stopping only to grab at your ass through your dress. His big hands wrapped around the back of your thighs, hoisting you up until you sat perched on the desk, your legs parting all too easily for him to stand between, pressing his body flush against yours.

Flip continued to devour you, you put in as much effort as you could but you felt weak, dumb with the way his mouth was so soft and warm on yours, his stupidly perfect lips so wet and soft, gliding effortlessly against your own. Like he was made to kiss you.

You lost yourself in his kiss, in his caress, in his touch. You let him hold you, shift you however he wanted, you felt like you were in some old classic movie with the way he was kissing you, with so much passion, so much vigour.

As you dove deeper into him, your inhibitions fell further and further away. You tugged at his hair, pressing his face into yours so that his nose was pressed firmly into your cheek. Teeth grazing his plump bottom lip, you entertained the idea of biting into the supple skin for all of two seconds before you indulged yourself in the sick pleasure. Flip groaned, loud into your mouth as you sunk your teeth into his lip, only letting it go for him to pull back and stare at you with an abyss for eyes. His lip was swollen, you could practically see the blood rushing to the bitten area, making it redder, juicer. You did that to him. Flip growled, pressing his hips and his forehead into yours, both of you trying to regain your breath.

“Did I mention how sorry I was?” Flip said darkly, voice rumbling with lust, deep in his chest. You felt it reverberate into you, it made you shiver. That and the way he was looking at you made you want to… to be good for him. Submit. Listen to him for once.

You nod your head, so breathless as you looked up at him. He was so much bigger than you and your neck was beginning to hurt from all the straining you had to do to keep your lips pressed firmly to his.

“Do you hate me?” Flip asks now, his turn to get an answer. His hand rests against your neck, fingers grazing your jawline from how big it is, wrapping around you too easily. You never wanted him to let go. You bite your lip and eyes still looking up at him, chest heaving, hard.

“No, I… I think the opposite actually.”

Part 2?

[troubatrain]

sober - m.barzal (pt. three)

a/n: onto the next one for reposts :)

Two - Four

Game Days were busy.

There were a few things about a Rangers game day that were always consistent. Someone always kicked a soccer ball into one of the rafters, usually Mika who thought his girlfriend’s soccer skills were rubbing off on him. You couldn’t speak to Hank but you knew where he was because he did the same thing every game day even if he wasn’t playing. Trouba would ask you some sort of dumb question when you tried to get footage of him walking into MSG so you couldn’t post it online. Finally, Chris would follow you around and then claim it was part of his own superstitions.

“So you just left him?” Chris clarifies, somehow always sticking his nose in your personal life.

“Yeah I went home,” You shrug, sipping your coffee to hide the fact that you were flat out lying to someone you really did trust. 

“You just went home?” Chirs quips a smirk on his own face, “Because you’re in an awfully good mood today Y/N.”

“If you really must know Chris, I am capable of getting myself off,” You remind him, sarcasm dripping from your voice while Chris chuckled behind you.

“Alright Ice Queen,” Chris rolls his eyes, “We get it, you don’t need a man.”

Nobody does. You thought to yourself while you pushed Chris into the Rangers locker room to get him out of your hair for the rest of the night. It was something you reminded yourself constantly, your happiness didn’t need to depend on someone else. If you could just remember that, then there was no way anyone could ever hurt you. It drove your own mother crazy, and the romantics in your life always seemed to be annoyed by your lack of commitment, but you didn’t care. You were never going to be the girl who cried on the way home in the back of some taxi because a man broke your heart. Your life wasn’t going to be the sad part of a romantic comedy that was set in New York, because you wouldn’t let it.

**

The Rangers lost, one of the grueling overtime losses that you hated to even walk past the locker room after. You stood by the exit, watching the sad faces of the team leave to greet their significant others and see their kids. It made you soft for just a moment, your thoughts broken by a text to your phone from a number you should have deleted. It was from Mat, the location of a bar downtown attached.

Tough loss… come for a drink?

Does that drink come with strings attached?

If you’re asking me to tie you up, I’m in.

I cannot stand you.

You won’t be able to stand, just come and see me.

You bite your tongue, holding in the thought of asking Mat how many other girls didn’t answer him before he finally landed on you. Maybe he had a list, or maybe he just scrolled through Instagram until someone’s thirst trap caught his eye. Those seemed too logical for Mat, so you settle on the idea that he probably plays contact roulette until he finds a way to get his dick wet. A part of you screamed not to go, just to get on the subway back to your apartment and pack it in for the night. But you ignored your logical side for just a minute, grabbing a cab and giving the driver the address Mat sent you.

Mat, in a weird sense, was like a safe bet. Sure, you could have gone out and taken someone else home, it was easy in a city as big as New York. But, Mat was good in bed, and you’d be damned if you let him know that. You were letting your pussy take over for you, screaming that at least you were going to get off a few times.

“You’re here!” Mat cheers, scoping you out from the moment you stepped into the bar. He reeked of booze and bad decisions, his arm wrapping around you.

That was when the group he was with caught your attention. Standing on the other side of the bar were a few of Mat’s teammate’s who you knew of.

“Are those your fucking teammates?” You grit out, your lips as close to Mat’s ear as they could get.

“Would you relax? I didn’t mention what you did for a living, as far as they're concerned you’re just another girl,” Mat scoffs, his large hand landing on your lower back.

“Keep your mouth shut or I’m never speaking to you again,” You scold, wagging your finger at him while you walk over to the bar.

Mat’s teammates were interesting. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them, or that they were anything less than kind to you. It was that it felt so wrong. Just a week before that, you were sitting between the benches during warm ups listening to Matt Martin roast Trouba from the blue line and now you were listening to him gush about his pregnant wife. It was like you’d entered some alternate universe and you found yourself having a better time than you even anticipated.

“You’re too cool to be here with Barz,” Tito chirps, cheering you on while you took your third shot of the night.

Mat’s smile was dopier than normal when he threw his arm around you and pulled you into his chest, “It’s because I’m her conquest not the other way around.”

You roll your eyes, tucking your head into Mat’s arm and nibbling at it lightly to get him to shut up for just once. Mat smirks, leaning to whisper in your ear, “That’s a turn on princess, wrong move.”

“How about I just kick you in the balls?” You grit back, Mat’s eyes widening at the threat. 

“If you come home with me, you’re free to do whatever you’d like,” Mat chuckles, turning you around and pouting, his hand resting on your hip.

You bite your lip, if you went home with him you knew what that meant for you. It meant Mat was getting what he wanted - a spot on the roster. The problem was that Mat was probably better in bed than anyone else you were currently seeing, and admitting that was the equivalent of defeat. Another part of you screamed, that maybe he was just perfect for casual.

Mat Barzal was dumb, smug, and hot. Three characteristics that you thought made someone a good fuck-buddy. Mat wasn’t boyfriend material, and he was never going to get to meet your friends because no one could know this was happening. Mat was smug in the way that he constantly wanted to win, and while it meant his personality could be unbearable sometimes, it also meant he was excellent in bed. Finally, Mat was hot in the way that it reminded you that god really does have favorites. But, Mat was like sleeping with the enemy. He was going to make you lie to people who you trusted for the first time, and was that fair to do yourself just so you could get laid? 

“We’re setting some ground rules here Barz,” You finally land on, Mat’s eyebrows raising in surprise with your lack of protest, “Starting with if you ever force me to hang out with your teammates again, I’ll cut your dick off.”

“Noted,” Mat nods, “Anything else princess?”

“Yeah, that nickname has got to go,” You say, because princess irritated you more than any pet name, “And no sleepovers-”

“But we live in two completely different boroughs,” Mat protests, “And what if it’s late?”

“I’m a grown woman,” You remind him, “I can get home safe on my own.”

Mat rolls his eyes, “You’re a real pain you know that? Anything else?”

“Yeah, this stays between us, I’m not some pawn you can use to talk shit next time someone from my team hurts your feelings,” You say, poking him in the chest to make your point, “I’m serious.”

“You got it captain,” Mat nods, saluting you while he chuckles, “Now can we go? I’ve got plans for you.”

Mat’s use of the word plans made your pussy drip in excitement while you bid your goodbyes to his teammates. His teammates who had no idea that just a week before that you were sitting on the bench during warm ups with a blind hatred for each of them in your heart. His teammates who’d also fallen under your spell that maybe you weren’t a cold hearted bitch all the time.

“My place or yours?” Mat hums, pulling you closer while you waited for a cab.

“Yours, I don’t want you within thirty feet of my apartment,” You smirk, even though you hated Mat’s apartment because no one deserved those floor to ceiling windows if they had decor as terrible as his.

“You talk a big game for someone who left some nasty scratches on my back the last time I saw you,” Mat reminds you, nudging his nose with yours, “But, I can remind you why.”

Mat’s words lit a fire in you, if he thought he was so good, you were going to remind him that you were better. Two can play at that game. You grab Mat’s hand, pulling him into a cab while you waited for him to give the driver his address. Once the car started to move, the streets of New York lighting up on either side of you, you lean over and let your hand creep up Mat’s thigh.

“No,” Mat mouths, shaking his head while the cab driver makes small talk with him. You smirk, lightly using your fingers to land right over the bulge that was threatening to peek out in Mat’s too tight jeans.

“No what?” You whisper in his ear, a blush creeping up his neck. You had him so hot and bothered that everything before that seemed to make sense. It had clicked why Mat put up all the shit you gave him, he could have anyone he wanted with a smirk and a wink, but he wanted you - at least for the moment.

The rest of the cab ride was agony, after hitting about every red light from the bar to Mat’s building, he had you pinned against his door the second you got inside, “That was a dick move.”

“It just seemed like you needed a reminder of who was in charge here,” You whisper, your mouth close to his neck, “And who’s going to be screaming who’s name.”

“Yeah okay,” Mat scoffs, “There isn’t one thing you could do that would get that to happen.”

“Wanna bet?” You counter, sliding down the wall and stopping to unbutton Mat’s jeans. You pull them down, leaving kisses right above his boxers before they slid off too.

All it took was one lick on the underside of his cock for Mat to let out a moan that was so loud it echoed in the obnoxiously large bachelor pad he lived in. Mat’s hands ran through your hair, pulling it up so he could guide your head. You bobbed your head in a perfect rhythm, your hands digging into Mat’s thighs while you tried to get grip. Your head game was nothing short of spectacular, and you’d be damned if you were going to let Mat Barzal think anything less.

“Fuck Y/N,” Mat groans, trying to push your head back to give himself a break before he came way too early. This only egged you on, taking his whole length into your mouth, “Babe, I’ll cum right here if you don’t stop.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?” You look up at him, tears brimming your eyes from his dick in your mouth.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” Mat asks, pulling you up to place a kiss on your lips.

“And no one will even know it was me,” You smirk, slipping out of his arms and making your way down a hallway that was becoming way too familiar, “Now c’mon Barz, I thought you had plans for us.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Eat me out.”

“Actually you can tell me what to do.”

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 4

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This update took me longer to get up than I expected! I overthought the shit out of it, but here it is, finally! Hope y’all enjoy a touch of Nessian fluff as much as y’all have appreciated the angst, but also, I’m sorry for the end of the chapter. 🤭

Warnings for strong language, mention of underage drinking, and mentions of grief.

Enjoy!

————————————��———————————

After her heart no longer threatened to jump into her throat, Nesta managed to use the restroom and wash her hands, giving herself a silent pep talk in the mirror. She paused at the door, steeled herself, and walked into the bar, as if Cassian hadn’t completely mind-fucked her less than ten minutes ago.

Still determined to keep the night drama-free, she walked over to the bar, ordered herself two shots of whiskey, and walked over to their booth to sit. Amren had returned to the table, joined by Feyre, Mor, and Elain. Nesta slid into the booth next to the birthday girl, greeting her with a bump of her shoulder, and took the first of her shots.

“Oh gods. That looks terrible.” Elain scrunched up her nose as she stared at the next shot.

“It does the job!” Nesta took a deep breath and threw the second shot back with impressive speed. She was usually one to be more conservative on their nights out, so her back-to-back shots were met with cheers from around the table. Elain rested her head on Nesta’s shoulder as she giggled, followed by a slurred, “I’m so happy you’re here, Nessie. I love you.”

They ordered another round of drinks as they changed erratically from one topic of conversation to another. When Nesta heard the ice clinking at the bottom of her empty glass, she suddenly realized the compound effects of her earlier drinks, her shots, and the one she just finished. She noted how her vision was truly starting to blur as the room spun, and she felt her body flush. She leaned over to Elain and let her know she was going to step outside for some fresh air. She assured her repeatedly that she would be okay.— Yes, she had her phone on her.— No, she didn’t need anyone to accompany her. She slid out of the booth and walked briskly toward the front door of the bar.

Once she made it outside, she walked down the side of the building in an attempt to find a quieter spot to lean against the wall. There was a group of men outside; obviously having a celebration of sorts and being as loud and unruly as humanly possible. She aimed to increase her distance from them, walking down the building and closer and closer to the parking lot. She found herself staring down an aisle of parked vehicles, eyes landing on a familiar truck about halfway down the row. Before she realized where her feet were carrying her, she was staring at the tailgate of the truck, hand reaching for the handle. She worked through her faulty, drunken logic.

Surely he wouldn’t mind if I sat on his tailgate instead of the ground.

It’s likely a little safer to sit here than it would be right next to a group of drunk men, alone.

The group would be out for a while yet, so as long as she closed it, he’d never know anyway.

Tired of standing in her wedges and unable to think of a single reason not to do it, she lowered the tailgate. She turned around, braced herself on her hands, and hopped to lift herself enough to sit. She dangled her legs, swinging them back and forth lightly. She took a few steadying breaths, already feeling better than she had inside. There was a soft breeze kissing the back of her neck and cooling her cheeks. She felt incredibly content for the first time in weeks, and she shuddered at how the familiarity of where she sat contributed to the feeling.

After several minutes, she got bored of staring at the few cars across the aisle from her and the ones leaving. She scooted back several feet into the bed of the truck so that her legs were supported and lay back to look at the sky for a little while. She lost herself in trying to identify constellations that her mother had shown her years ago and whispered a quiet hello to the woman she missed so much. It was always surprising to her how many she remembered after all this time, especially considering that the pace of her life didn’t allow for much stargazing anymore.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the footsteps that approached from her left. She had located the five brights stars in a small “v” that told her she was looking at Taurus, and was tracing her gaze up to the two bright stars marking the horns when she was abruptly pulled from her thoughts.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” Cassian asked the question through a soft chuckle, but Nesta still jumped in surprise. Her head popped up, eyes snapping toward him instantly.

“Shit, Cassian. You scared me.” She relaxed into her prior position but angled her chin down to maintain eye contact. It was surprisingly comfortable in the bed of this truck.

He lifted his eyebrows at her words, one lifting slightly higher than the other. They always had when he was truly surprised, not that she noticed. His eyes were still upturned at the corners, and it calmed her to know he wasn’t annoyed with her blatant use of his property.

“I’m sorry?... That wasn’t my intention, but I didn’t really expect to see you in the bed of my truck, either. Kind of seems like you should have expected me to come by at some point, at least.” He was still giving her a mischievous smile, and she realized that she would have to quickly get a leash on her thoughts to get through another interaction.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head quickly. “Oh. Yea. No, I know. I think I just figured that I’d be back inside before you made it out here,” she said, as if it was the most reasonable explanation in the world. “Are you leaving? I’m really sorry, I’ll get out.” She sat up, but before she could start to scoot herself down, a broad hand wrapped gently around her shin.

”Stay. I’m not leaving anytime soon. Kallias left a little while ago, and he called me to tell me he thought he saw my tailgate down. I didn’t remember leaving the bed open, so I came out to check. Relax.” He offered a soft smile, and she felt her heart skip at his sincerity. He removed his hand from her shin to lean forward and brace himself on both hands. Her eyes caught on the little bit of his tattoos that were visible on his chest and traced down his arms. Before she could silently berate herself for her staring, he was speaking again.

“So. What are you doing out here, Archie?” He looked up from the tailgate, amusement crinkling his eyes at the corners. She groaned dramatically at the old nickname that he gave her in high school. She had a love-hate relationship with it; hate because it was awful, love because he coined it. He used it less and less as they got older, but it still made its appearance every now and then when he teased her.

“Gods, can we please let ‘Archie’ go? It’s so terrible.” She couldn’t help the small giggle that erupted out of her as she talked. She took a deep breath before answering his question. “My drinks hit me all at once inside, so I came out to get some fresh air.“ She adjusted her body a little to situate herself and lifted her gaze back to the sky. “I’m doing drunk people things and laying down to look at the stars until I can handle going back in there.” She gave a small smirk as she let her head fall to the side, looking at him again.

“For one, as long as I’m living, ‘Archie’ stays. You might as well lean into it. For two, perfectly reasonable. I’m glad I could offer the proper amenities for your drunk stargazing.” He winked at her then, a friendly gesture rather than suggestive in any way. She could tell he was more relaxed than before, the alcohol likely taking its effect on him, too.

She cleared her throat and asked the question on her tongue before she could think better of it.

“Are you in a hurry to go back inside? Join me?” She patted the space next to her for good measure.

You’re doing a terrible job of ‘leashing’ yourself, Nesta.

“I think I could spare a few minutes for you, Archie.” He turned around and easily sat on the tailgate. He pushed himself backwards to lay on his back next to her, only to be met with her hard glare. He let out a laugh then, shaking his head at her and looking at the sky.

“You know, this is pretty nostalgic.” He brought his arm to rest under his head, settling into a comfortable position as he spoke.

“I have to agree with you on that,” she said through a laugh. It was oddly reminiscent of their late high school and early college days of underage drinking at any and every party. So often, they would find themselves drunk, laying in the bed of his truck or on someone’s porch, sharing drinks and stories from earlier in the night.

“The only thing missing is a pint of cheap liquor that we had no business drinking.”

”Don’t forget the straw.” Nesta was grinning now and resisting the urge to look at him. His proximity, combined with their shared memories, was already a lot to navigate.

”I would never. I’ve received enough verbal lashings in my day to always remember the straw.” They were both laughing now, enjoying the comfortable banter. “I still don’t understand your insistence on that.” Their laughter faded into comfortable silence, and she noticed his head turn toward her lazily once they fell quiet. She looked over at him and watched his Adam’s apple bob before he spoke.

“I’ve really missed my friend,” he said quietly, as he shifted his arm closer to her. He grazed his knuckles over the back of her palm, and his eyes scanned her face.

She continued to look at him, unsure she could break it even if she tried. “Me too. Really.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

He swiftly picked up the heavier atmosphere settling over them and shifted both of his hands toward his body. He laced them over his stomach as he shifted his attention back to the sky. “So, which constellation were you so invested in when I walked up?”

She looked back up at the sky before answering him. “Taurus.”

“That’s a good one. Momma Archie would be proud that you remember.” She was touched by the affection she heard in his voice for her mother. He’d grown close to her in their years as friends and had taken it hard when she passed. His tone shifted into something a little more playful when he said: “Even though you’re feeding every rom com stereotype of the drunk girl, staring wistfully at the stars, and—“

She interrupted him with a laugh and a jab to the ribs. “Shut up! Don’t you dare make fun of me, you shit.”

He feigned a deep groan, as if her jab had truly wounded him, and clutched his side. “Gods, keep your sharp elbows on your side of the truck.” He seemed to recover quickly, his tone dripping with jest, “Is this the part where I point out a really obscure constellation that reminds me of you, and you fall madly in love with me?” There was nothing implied by the question, she realized; his only aim to give her a hard time.

“As if I would expect you to know any of them. Much less the rare ones,” she deadpanned, even though she failed to completely hide her smile. Before she knew what was happening, he was sitting up suddenly and rolling toward her. His hands found each side of her rib cage, and he started to tickle her mercilessly.

“Don’t be a jerk! I’m more than just a pretty face, I’ll have you know.” He was laughing as he spoke, fully delighting in her misery.

“Okay, okay, okay! You win! Cassian, PLEASE.” She was laughing so hard that tears started to pool in the corners of her eyes.

He finally stopped his torture, looking down at her through bright eyes. She was acutely aware of how close his face was to hers, their noses almost touching. She felt the weight of his leg casually thrown over one of hers during the tousle, and she blushed at the heat she felt throughout her body at the contact. His eyes softened slightly and, before she could ask him what was wrong, he spoke softly. “Fuck... I was hoping some time away from you would help a little more.” He lingered for only a couple of seconds, shifted his weight, and rolled away from her to sit up on the tailgate.

It took her mind a minute to realize his meaning, and she immediately felt guilty. This was all her fault to begin with, not only in how she responded to him those weeks ago, but in inviting him to sit with her tonight. She sat up next to him and placed her hands under her thighs to avoid reaching for him.

She furrowed her brows and cleared her throat. “And I’m assuming that it didn’t help as much as you wanted?” It was odd conversation to broach, but it seemed insensitive to say nothing at all.

His hands were braced on the outside of his thighs, his shoulders slumped as he looked out into the parking lot. He turned his head toward her subtly, only looking at her through his side eye.

”Didn’t even touch it.” He gave her a sad smile before he broke eye contact.

One would assume that after ten years of friendship, she would no longer be surprised at how open he could be. She marveled at the genuine man next to her and how he managed to never let the trauma of life change who he was. She envied him, to a certain extent, because she didn’t think herself capable of trying to even fake that level of openness with others.

“Cass, I’m sorry, I—“

”Don’t.” There was no bite in his words, only an insistence that she not blame herself. “It’s ok.” He ran one hand through his long curls before hopping off the tailgate. He extended his hand to her.

“Ready to go back? The ladies will send the troops looking for you if you stay out much longer.”

She accepted his hand long enough to slide off the tailgate and gain solid footing. She smoothed the back of her jeans to make sure they weren’t dusty, straightened her blazer, and offered him a smile.

“You lead the way.”

——————————————————————————

It was only another hour or so that passed before Elain felt she had sufficiently celebrated her birthday. They were sitting in their booth again, joined by Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. Mor had dragged Cassian and Amren to the dance floor, clearly having gotten her second wind.

Elain yawned and looked over to Nesta. “Nessie... Would you be ready to go?”

”Sure, El. Want me to get you home? I can get us a Lyft.”

”Mmm. I’m thinking slumber party. Your house.” She smiled sweetly, knowing she was going to request birthday breakfast the next morning.

Nesta rolled her eyes knowingly. “Fine. My house it is.” She ordered their car.

“Hey! I wanna come!” Feyre’s blue eyes flared, and her expression was one of a petulant toddler. It was a reaction bred from years as the family baby, always fearing she was being left out. Nesta felt another rush of affection for her; for both of them.

Within minutes, they were piling into a small SUV. Feyre sat behind the driver, Elain in the middle, and Nesta slid in next to her. Their driver was polite and quiet, confirming their destination and falling silent the rest of the drive.

“Nessie, I’m mad at you.” Elain slurred the words as she rested her head on Feyre’s shoulder, eyes closed. Nesta snapped her head in her direction, not even remotely aware of what she could have possibly done to upset her in the last five minutes.

“What the hell for?!” Her voice wasn’t loud, but her surprise was obvious.

”Because you’re friends with Az.”

Nesta was quiet for a moment as she considered. ”You’re going to have to give me more to go off of, El.”

Elain huffed a breath through her nose and said, “You’re so close to Az. And that sucks for me because he’s never going to even look at me. Cause I’m your little sister. And he’s nice and considerate and wouldn’t want to make you mad.”

Ohhh, I see. So she’s confirming what we all knew already. She likes Azriel.

Feyre let out a soft giggle and lay her head on top of Elain’s. She rested her hand affectionately on Elain’s leg, a gesture that aimed to soothe her sister’s drunken anxieties. Nesta couldn’t fight her smile at Elain’s “angry” words and disguised her amusement as best as possible as she spoke.

“Ellie, I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s not like Az is afraid of me in the slightest. Plus, he’s basically the only man that I’d find worthy of you.”

”Okay. Well, nevermind, then.” She yawned and was dozing within seconds.

Nesta’s eyes met Feyre’s identical ones across the car, and they both had to suppress their giggles to avoid waking her. The night had been a roller coaster of emotions, and she wasn’t sure how she could ever survive life’s ups and downs without the two women in the car with her. Sure, there were times where her and Feyre would almost come to blows, and Elain’s gentle spirit would tire of their hotheadedness. But no one else would ever know her like they knew her.

Thinking over the course of the night, she started to feel compelled to reach out to Cassian. She alternated between the compulsion and the rationale part of her brain (likely the sobering part) that was telling her it was a terrible idea.

Are we okay? Does he resent me even more? Is he annoyed that I put us in this position?

Why do you care? This is what you wanted. What you demanded of him.

She suppressed the reason threatening to deter her, opened their text thread, and typed a short message.

N: It was really was good to see you tonight. Sorry I didn’t get to say bye. Just wanted to reach out and tell you to be safe getting home.

She hit send before she could overthink it and locked her phone to avoid staring at the screen. She knew she would only find herself willing the ellipsis to pulse and show he was typing. As luck would have it, they were already pulling up to her apartment complex, and her attention would be monopolized by getting her sisters inside and comfortable. They woke Elain up and prompted her to walk inside to Nesta’s bedroom. She dug through her drawers to get them each some nightclothes, all but forced them to wash their faces, and forced spare toothbrushes into their hands. She padded into her room to change into her own night clothes, plugged in all of their phones, and made sure they each had a pillow across her king bed. She chuckled to herself at the eldest sister caregiving behaviors that would likely never leave her. Elain and Feyre walked briskly into the room, Elain announcing proudly that she called ‘middle’ as the birthday girl. They settled into the sheets and both of her little sisters were asleep within minutes. She was on the brink of unconsciousness herself when her phone vibrated on her bedside table, startling her awake. She blinked against the brightness of the screen to focus on who was calling her.

Shit, it’s Cassian. Shit shit shit.

She hit ‘accept’ and quickly brought the phone to her ear. She whispered her “Hello?” before glancing over at her sisters to make sure they weren’t disturbed. Not in the slightest.

She was met with rustling sounds, much like those of someone’s pocket during an accidental dial, and muffled conversations. She assumed he had, in fact, pocket dialed, but she waited a few more seconds. She told herself she should just in case he was trying to get situated, sabotaged by the alcohol coursing through his system. She repeated her greeting but didn’t want to get any louder for her sisters’ sakes. She was about to hang up when she heard his voice coming clearly through the phone.

“I know! I haven’t seen you in what, almost a year?”

”Yea, almost exactly! I’m surprised we don’t run into each other more often, to be honest.” The second voice was unfamiliar and unmistakably female. She felt her stomach lurch, but she couldn’t hang up.

Cassian laughed casually and said, “No kidding. It’s not like Velaris is so big.”

”Shit. I think my friends are leaving me. I’ll see you next week though, right?” Her tone was clear, insinuating that she knew his answer.

”Absolutely. Is Wednesday after work ok? Around 5:30?”

”Ill be there! Bye, Cassian!” There was more rustling, as if they had come together in a hug, but she acknowledged that her imagination was likely torturing her.

“Sounds like a plan. See you then, Alis!”

Hearing her name is what finally had her ending the call and tossing her phone back onto the table. Her head was swimming. She was suddenly humiliated at her earlier text, wishing she had never sent it.

You should feel better, honestly. He probably doesn’t resent you. He may not have given your actions a second thought at all. He’s moving on.

She turned over before she could be consumed by her thoughts, tucked her face into the side of Elain’s shoulder, and drifted off to sleep.

————————————————————————

A/N: I just want to thank y’all again for the support I’ve gotten for this fic. Y’all really have been the best! My apologies for how this one ended, but we’re getting somewhere, I promise! Please don’t kill me 🙈

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[captainjimothycarter]

You asked for a prompt... random thought for you. What would happen if the whole time travel thing was causing Steve's serum to fade out in a sense? Like endgame with skinny Steve and he gets all adorable and worried about things?

this is prob not wnat you want, but enjoy almost 3k of rambling. 

--

This had happened before.

When he stood inside Peggy’s office, looking at an older Peggy with gray in her hair, he felt like his breath had been taken from his lungs. He felt like the walls were closing in on him, his chest felt considered smaller than what it had become. 

At the time, Steve had other things to worry about than what he passed off as just an overwhelming sense of emotions, he had the fate of the world resting on his shoulders. Yet now that it was over and he stood with a bloodied shield in hand, he could feel his legs giving out on him, and his world was growing considerably smaller.

He never felt his body hit the ground.

“...don’t know, notes were gone.”

“What do you mean we don’t know? It’s been...fuck...years.”

“Exactly that, we don’t know much about the serum. We only know what the monitors tell us and that’s nothing good.”

“You do know I’m awake, right?” Steve grunted as he forced himself to sit up from the hospital bed. 

Something wasn’t right. Hell - a lot of things weren’t right. For one, he couldn’t see color. No white or chrome or Shuri’s golden bracelets, Bucky’s silver and golden arm, or even Sam’s red goggles.

His left ear, it was tingling. He could barely hear Bucky’s low grunting whisper to Shuri’s ear. He could barely see her shrugging. Even as he sat there, staring at the trio, he could feel his vision worsening.

Without even taking a lungful of air, he knew how hard it would be to breathe. He’s had nightmares on this - even recently - about his ailments, about waking up small and powerless. His chest was aching with the desperate need of a full breath he was terrified to take, not wanting to have his fears to be concerned. Even without it, there was that low, dull ache in the base of his spine that followed into his stomach, like someone twisting a knife.

He’d lost the serum. 

It had lasted him until the battle and -

Steve’s eyes fell to the bandages around his wrists, slowly peeling them back. He slapped away Bucky’s hand that reached out of habit to stop him from picking, a decades-old habit neither had grown out of. Underneath the bandage confirmed his fears to be true (as if everything else hadn’t), a jagged scar from where Thanos’ blade had cut into him. Healed by Shuri’s technology but still a scar, proving the serum couldn’t save him.

Question was, even as three sets of eyes stared at him, waiting for some sort of reaction, what now?

He still knew the answer, that hadn’t changed.

She’d love him anyway.

--

“Steven?” 

The name was whispered as if anything louder would cause the veil to break, to break what only could be a dream between them.

Her hand reached out before sense seemed to catch up to her and it was jerked away. She stood in the doorway of a yellow house with a wrap-around porch, her newspaper still sitting at his feet. He could smell her, smell that familiar perfume she wore during the war. It still made his eyes water with how strong it was. 

She took up the whole doorway, hand curled around the frame and jaw tense. He’d seen that look before, her jaw twitching ever so slightly. Even without being able to see it, he knew her hand around the frame was clenching it tightly. 

“Well?” Peggy snapped, drawing Steve out of his thoughts.

He was still staring at her, mouth opened, just in unbelievable belief that he was standing in front of her. That he was here, with her, that he was home. 

“I-” He swallowed, throat bobbing. “I’m sorry what?”

Her lips twitched, almost threatening to smile. “I asked who in the hell are you because you’re obviously not Steven Grant Rogers. Captain Rogers died a year ago. Either work has finally gotten to me or you’re an imposter. A failed imposter at that.”

It was Steve’s turn to smile and he could’ve sworn her eyes softened 

“I can swear to you that I am, P-Peggy.” His breath hitched, trying to keep all these overwhelming emotions tamed. Last he needed was to have a panic attack on her doorstep. “I know it doesn’t look like it but I-I can’t...you won’t believe me.”

Reaching into his pocket, Steve pulled out the compass that never left his pocket. It had a few more dents than she last saw, a little more rusted. The hinges squeaked as Steve slowly opened it and passed it to her. Peggy’s fingers delicately brushed over his own as she took it, her face paling of all color as she looked up at Steve.

“But...how? We looked for you. And you’re...the serum…”

Peggy Carter was the last person ever to pity him. It wasn’t pity in her eyes, it was concern because she knew what the serum meant to him, but she also knew the health advocates that came with losing the serum.

She was worried for him and Christ if that just didn’t make him love her more.

“I can explain. There’s a lot you won’t understand but I...I can’t explain. Can I…?” 

A shiver ran up his spine as he tilted his head into the room, a chill washing over him as the fall wind blew. 

“Of course… Let me call Chester and tell him I won’t be at work. I won’t say anything about you,” she quickly explained at Steve’s panic look. Despite it, he knew she didn’t agree with that line of thought - not yet.

--

“Let me get this straight,” Peggy sighed, lowering the warmed mug of brandy. Steve remembered just how she liked her winter drinks. “You were in the future. Then…”

She waved her hand and sighed heavily. They’ve been at this for hours. For the most part, Steve had done all the talking but she’s commented a few questions that couldn’t wait, down to a few comments. At first, they started at opposite ends of the couch and now were sitting thigh-to-thigh. 

Steve’s head tilted, his downy soft, blonde locks falling in his face. Her eyes tracked his hand as they brushed it back. “Go on. Yes, I was in the future.”

She shot him a look that he flushed out - Lord, she’s missed that flushing. “And now you’re small because...time travel?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that and unless we want to call Howard, tell him I’m alive through time travel, that time travel exists, then...I don’t think we can get into a full explanation. To be honest, I understand it but I don’t understand it. Something about the...the effects of time travel through this-”-Steve held up the watch-like device she’d seen earlier-“and the serum, reverting my cells to before the serum.”

“No, no, and no. We are absolutely not calling Howard to tell him time travel exists. We will eventually call him to tell him you’re alive. In the morning. He’s out of the country, I’m afraid, until tomorrow.” And to be honest, she’s selfish. The second she lets the important people know that Steve is alive like Howard, Phillips, and the Commandos, then all hell will break loose. She’s selfish and just wants this one night with him. “Second, that doesn’t explain how you’re...better.” 

His plush, pink lips pursed together, in the same manner, they always did in thought. His eyes fell from her face, down to the steaming drink, and even further down to his hands. “I’m not, not exactly. I…” He tilted his head back and sighed. “It’s complicated, I think? Or maybe I think it’s complicated. You remember that girl I told you about? Shuri.”

“Yes? What about? You said you...”

“I woke up and was just smaller after-after the battle. After a long discussion on the possibilities, we worked on solutions for everything else. The asthma, the hearing, my sight, colorblindness, the...well everything. I’m small and for the most part 90% better thanks to her technology.”

His face pinched in a manner that told her yes he was grateful but this was a bitter pill for him to swallow. To accept he was smaller.

“She fixed everything the serum did but just not...the serum.”

“Shuri offered to replicate it, she was 90% sure she could and I had faith in her but…”

“But something told you not to.” Peggy’s eyes softened and she took his hand in her own. “That must’ve been hard for you to decide to do.”

“It was but I…” His mouth opened and closed and not for the first time, Peggy could truly see just how exhausted he was. It was deeper than just what a good night’s rest could fix, it was deeper than a soldier returning home. Steve had loved and lost. He’d been broken and repaired, his hope snatched from him, just to crack his facade even more. Her heart broke for him. “I wasn’t sure how it would be with...what little is in me and...well...everything.”

There was no true answer to why he denied Shuri’s help. Pride maybe, but it felt like more. Maybe betrayed Erksine. Maybe he just wanted to rest. Maybe he was just selfish.

Maybe he was terrified if it worked, it could be taken from him again.

“Question is,” Peggy mused after a long moment of silence that was only broken up by the sound of her fire crackling. “What are you going to do now?”

Steve smirked, suddenly aware of how close they were. He could see the shine of red on her lips, smell the brandy on her breath. It felt like home as their lips pressed together.

“Help you change the world.”

--

“Explain...explain this to me one more time.”

Howard was laid back on the chair, legs thrown up on the ottoman. He had at least pulled on a robe for them, even if it laid open and his chest hair was exposed. His hair was a devilish mess, having constantly run his hand through it. He still wasn’t looking at Peggy, his eyes firmly on the small guy in front of him that said he was Steve.

He wasn’t drunk. No, it was still 1 pm, even if he just woke up. These were sober hours. Peggy wouldn’t let him drink.

“How are you small?”

Steve couldn’t help but share the look with Peggy, then with Jarvis (who just looked so relieved he was here). Jarvis knew the full truth (thus, so did Ana because they never kept secrets from one another).

“I told you,” Steve sighed, hating lying to Howard but Howard didn’t need to know. Time travel and Howard was a dangerous mix. “I was found in the ice and-”

“Bullshit!”

He’d never seen Howard move so quickly. The man looked almost angry and Steve’s breath picked up as he took a stumbling step back. He was caught by Peggy before he fell.

“What sort of idiot do you take me, Rogers?” Howard bellowed, eyes moving from both parties. “The both of you! I looked! We both looked! We looked and looked and looked and-” 

“Sir.” Jarvis was by his side, leading a distressed Howard back to his chair. “May I suggest that you calm down?”

“No,” Howard grumbled, closing his eyes, rubbing at his temples. “I looked. How are you suddenly here? A-a year later. How? How?! We looked, I-”

“Time travel,” Peggy suddenly spat, hating how distressed her friend look. She sighed and took Steve’s hand. “Time travel, and no, Howard, we won’t go into details. I certainly don’t understand it and you do not need to know the details of time travel. Or-or any of it. Not yet, Steven need to rest, we can discuss perhaps later if-”

“Steven is fine,” Steve grumbled, taking his hand from Peggy’s to stand up. He looked back at Howard’s shocked face. “Okay, the cat’s out of the bag. I used time travel to come back to Peggy. I’m sorry Howard, we just worried how you’d accept it - that time travel exists.”

For once, Howard Stark was too shocked to say a damn thing in his life.

--

“So, Howard knows,” Peggy sighed, rubbing at her temples, “about time travel. Not something I had hoped we’d discuss but here we are. We agree he’s to know very minimum amounts about the future.”

Steve’s head bobbed along from where he rested against her lap on their shared couch. It’s quickly become their favorite spot. “It wasn’t worth lying to him, to see his distress. It killed me. It reminded me so much about T-”

Peggy’s eyes fell to his and her hand scratched at his scalp. “Tony,” she finished. He nodded and she picked his head up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry we lied to him too, but now he knows the truth. I’m still not getting over him running over that table to hug you once he’s over the shock.”

“Never known him to be flexible.”

“Wave the right amount of alcohol in his face and you’ll learn new facts about Howard,” she snickered, making Steve roll his eyes.

“So I’m just the trophy husband?” he teased her, making Peggy laugh. “Howard provides the funds.”

“Howard provides the charisma. You are certainly the best trophy husband I could ask for.” She kissed him and he felt his body slack into hers. “I love you, Steven.”

“I love you too, Peggy.”

--

“When you said you had an urgent meeting with us, Pegs, this isn’t what I expected,” Dugan grumbled as he adjusted himself in the chair. “Back on stateside with Phillips coming in? What’s going on?”

Peggy, for her sake, sat on the edge of her desk that had come to the start of serving as the threshold of SHIELD. Phillips and Howard were behind her (Steven, of course too because they couldn’t get this far without his future references). She pulled on the suit she was wearing, a habit she couldn’t help. She did her best not to look where Steve waited in the side closet that often served as a nesting room when she was too tired to go home.

Before Steve had returned of course.

The Howling Commandos were patient as ever, meaning they weren’t one bit patient. Dugan was squirming like a kid in his chair, already knowing he was in trouble. Jones was bouncing his leg, Pinky was fiddling with her pen, Jim was folding a sheet of paper into an origami butterfly, and Montgomery and the others had walked off to find coffee. 

“And what did you think the call was about, Dugan?” Peggy challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Dugan, for his sakes, shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing good, I supposed. Trouble follows you.”

“Only because you bait it,” Jones spoke up, making her laugh.

“We thought it was to tell us you’ve officially taken over the SSR as a one-woman show and needed our help,” Jim spoke up, blowing on the butterfly so it fluttered towards her.

Peggy caught it with ease and smiled. “That’s on the back burner - this is more important. I-”

The door slamming open cut them off. Phillips was a grump - he hated being woken up in the morning by a call that made no sense.

“Alright, Carter, tell me why I am here at 4 in the goddamn morning, with no coffee and why did you pull these guys from their project, if-”

“Steve is alive,” Peggy said firmly, cutting off Phillips’ I’m a grump rambling. 

That surely shocked them into silence. She saw Phillips and Dugan’s shared look - no doubt a conversation that has had about her beforehand and her dedication to finding Steve shortly after his death. 

“Peggy,” Phillips breathed, his eyes told her all. He wasn’t her boss, he was her friend, her gruff friend who was worried about her. “We-”

“Holy shit,” Montgomery breathed from the doorway, dropping the coffee he was holding. No one paid attention to it shattering on the floor. Their eyes were on Steve in the doorway.

A much skinnier Steve than they remembered.

“What the fu-”

“Language, Jones,” Steve said, out of instinct. He could see Peggy’s grin, a relieved look on her face. “There’s a lady present.”

“A lady that curses more than this sorry lot,” Peggy snorted, instantly taking Steve’s hand. She turned to look back at Phillips with a raised brow.

“I demand an explanation,” Phillips breathed, taking half a step in, glass crunching under his foot. “Kid, I knew you were too stubborn to die. Too stubborn to be told no. It’s so good you’re alive.”

“Small, but mighty,” Dugan chimed in with a tearful grin. “Christ, Stevie, come here.”

All Peggy and Phillips could do were look on as the 5’4 Captain was soon overtaken by the numerous hugs and shouts that echoed around her empty office at four in the morning.

--

“Are you ever going to tell me the truth?” Phillips huffed at her, making Peggy smile over the cup of coffee hours later.

The Howlies had finally left to catch a few hours of sleep, Steve had fallen asleep on her office couch. The poor guy was just tired. An exhaustion she feared he’d never rested. Sleep never seemed to be enough.

“I did,” Peggy mused, lowering the cup to her desk. She didn’t need to look up to see Phillip’s glowering look.

“He’s lucky to have survived at all,” Phillips sighed, looking over at Steve. “Frozen, the future, and returning back to you. The life we lead, it’s amazing.” He gave a small laugh as he raised his cup in cheers towards Steve. “You really got that second chance at being with him.”