#i’m definitely not going to fall to my knees on the floor of the theatre

[swcetnight]

It’s Definitely You || kth. (m) 4

synopsis:

Working as a barista in NYC has its perks, but when your ultimate dream of being on the Broadway stage tends to come crumbling down, the only thing that raises your spirits is the comfort of a complete stranger… who seems to have known you for far longer than you thought.

masterlist here

→ pairing: taehyung x barista!reader (also musical theatre performer cause I had to)

→ genre: fluff, angst, future smut | strangers(ish) to lovers… i won’t give the truth away... gonna have to read and find out for yourself ;))

-> warnings: oc has a really… really bad day, rude customers, swearing, degradation, near sexual assault, panic attack, anxiety attack, mention of major character death, description of plane crash (be aware), kissing, making out, brief tongue action, sexual content

→ word count: 9.8k

authors note:

finally!!! we’ve FINALLY a made it to the next chapter of It’s Definitely You… I can not put into words how long this chapter took me, but i’m so beyond grateful that i was able to continue with this story cause we are SO CLOSE to getting the answers we’re looking for!!! i just want to say thank you to everyone who has been so so supportive and loving of this story— it means the absolute world to me that people are enjoying my writing and the story im telling! it’s so rewarding to know that i have people looking forward to the future chapters— almost as excited as i am to write them! thank you. from the bottom of my heart. i hope you enjoy!!

authors thanks:

thank you to everyone who has supported me thus far.. i’m sending all of you love! there was no beta-reader for this chapter, so bear with me if there are any mistakes!

please send in an ask if you like to be added to the tag list !!

also, if you are enjoying this story, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask (on or off anon) and let me know your thoughts, feelings, theories, etc!! i would love to hear from all of you!

It's been an awful day.

No, worse than awful. The moment you walked through the academia cafe's wooden doors, you knew you were doomed.

Usually, evening shift leaders are meant to prepare cold brews, pastries, and, ya know, other necessary necessities for coffee shops. Usually, they help by preparing everything so that it's easier on the openers (aka you and Jimin), especially since they open at such an early time. Much to your dismay, not a single thing was prepped for this morning's shift.

Screw you, closers!

Jimin was absolutely fuming. The human sunshine himself? Yeah, him. He was bursting at the seams, fire and chaos dancing in his usually sweet and softened eyes. The innocence of Jimin seemed to fade away the moment he clocked into an absolute mess of a morning shift, knowing that he, the shift leader, was the one who had to patch it back up. You had helped him as much as you could, but truth be told, it left a damper on the rest of the day.

Everything seemed to go downhill from there.

The cold brew machine broke, a mess of nozzles breaking off the spout, cold brew splattered across previously cleaned surfaces, and the already stressed Jimin doubled in his stress levels. The pastries also had no expiration dates, causing him to contact the manager on a tangent, questioning when said pastries would expire— and telling him that last night's shift leader did absolutely nothing.

You've never heard Jimin talk ill of someone until today.

And when Jimin wasn't happy, no one was happy.

On top of that, he spilled an entire cube of cream across the backroom floor, soaking his backpack and causing the cardboard boxes holding coffee beans to rip and tear. This left Jimin in tears, but you promised him that you would clean it up— not wanting to make things worse for the poor guy. So, there you were, on your hands and knees, cleaning the flooded backroom of creamy hell.

This was not an ideal morning, but you were happy to help keep some of the stress from falling onto Jimin's shoulders.

Oh! And that's not all.

You decided that wearing a white shirt to work was a good idea! Why did you do that, you wonder? Hell knows! All you do know is that the cream accident wasn't the problem; it was the matcha accident soon after when you dropped an open bag of bright green matcha on yourself, leaving behind green stains all over the white surface of your top.

Screw you, matcha!

After spending a solid ten minutes scrubbing most of the green out of your shirt, (and convinced you were also wiping away the last of your sanity), the doors opened, and customers were welcomed into the cafe. You couldn't help but notice their curious eyes dropping down and gazing at your clothing, which is slightly clouded with a green tone in a splotchy pattern.

You love your job. You love your job. You love your job.

That's what you're currently chanting to yourself as you sit in the backroom, eyes watery and breathing labored while your heavy head sits in your hands. You had decided to take a break after spilling hot coffee on a customer, who ended up cussing you out before leaving in a tizzy. You hated letting people down—even customers who were ungrateful and snarky.

You bow your head, closing your eyes in an attempt to empty your mind.

Everything's okay. It's fine.

You try to comfort yourself, reminding your anxiety-filled brain that you have a West End opportunity coming up and that it won't be long till you leave this barista job behind. No more angry customers. There would be no more splotched green clothing, unless it was the green paint for Elphaba's appearance in Wicked The Musical.

It's not that you want to leave the cafe, but you are hoping for a change. And to pursue what you truly wanted to. Being able to avoid awful days like these was just the cherry on top.

The idea of theatre works like a charm. Your heart rate slows, and breathing regains its composure. For a moment, your head empties as you lay it against the wall behind you. You wish this feeling would remain until the end of your shift, but, unfortunately for you, it doesn't last long.

The second you feel like you're ready to get back out there, lifting yourself from your "backroom corner of sadness" and making your way to the cafe floor, Taehyung is standing at the front register. Suddenly, all that pressure comes racing back and seeps through every part of your body, deep down into the tiniest crevices and leaving you a mess.

What is he doing here?

Should you take his order?

Maybe you should wait a little longer and let Jimin handle it?

When he looks up from his phone, probably in an attempt to see who would assist him, his eyes meet yours. It feels like your heart fully stops, hands clammy as you wipe them on your apron, begging for Jimin to come to your aid. Alas, Jimin is making a frappuccino on the bar farthest from the register. You're thankful when you see Olivia, one of your other co-workers, make her way to the counter, greeting Taehyung and taking his order so that you don't have to.

You know you're a coward. You know that you should talk to him, especially since he's standing right in front of you with a neon "perfect opportunity" sign shining brightly above his head. And no matter how badly your heart wants to, your cowardice is the barricade in the way of its pursuit.

Taehyung isn't looking at you anymore but looking at the menu overhead— another "perfect opportunity" for you to sneak past Olivia, avoid his gaze, and make it to the bar unscathed. Luckily for you, Taehyung doesn't say anything other than his order.

When he finally strolls back to his small table in the corner, his cookie dough latte is in hand (courtesy of Jimin because you were too scared to make it-- assuming that you'll mess it up and embarrass yourself). Still, despite not having the courage to talk to him, you can't help but find yourself staring.

The last time you saw him was when you kissed him in your dream. When he had his warm arms around you, enveloping you in his gentle hold. They are now covered by a grey sweatshirt which keeps your eyes from wandering along the muscle beneath. The last time you saw him was when he kissed you and said he loved you. Taehyung loves you. Well, at least in your dream. But, God, how you wish it were real.

Instead, you're faced with the true reality: Taehyung's usually comforting eyes cast away from your own and a brick wall placed between the two of you, just waiting to be smashed down.

And it's all your fault.

"You're staring." Jimin coos from beside you, giving you a nudge with his arm. You offer him a glare that could pierce through the aforementioned brick wall, clearing your throat as you reach for the next order ticket. Jimin exhales in dissatisfaction, "You should just talk to him already."

"Wasn't that your job?" You question, remembering back to when Taehyung had asked to see Jimin last week. For the "project." A part of you believes that his need to vent was not regarding the theatre article. It was regarding you.

"Yes. It's my job to tell you that you should talk to him. This has gone on long enough, and no matter how much I loooove being a middleman to you, this is just getting ridiculous," Jimin states, his voice laced with the sound of sarcasm and exhaustion… You make a mental note to call him later and tell him how much you appreciate him. He's shaking his head as he finishes off another latte with the art of a flower, a creamy design atop the light brown surface.

It would be best if you still asked Jimin for latte art lessons, too.

Jimin continues, "Anyway… you should. He probably wants to talk it out just like you do."

You glance back over to Taehyung, whose head is now resting on his palm, looking over what you would assume to be notes for his project. You take a moment to appreciate his solitude, running your eyes across his loose black sweatpants and grey sweatshirt. You've never seen him this home-like before— but you're not complaining. Not in the slightest.

Even though he's looking at the paper, his eyes seem out of focus — what was he thinking about?

"Am I gonna get some help here, or should I leave?" A rough voice snaps, drawing your attention to the front register where a semi-tall man stands with an unsatisfied expression on his face. You take in a short breath, apologizing profusely as you scurry over to the register and eagerly ask for the man's order.

"Shouldn't you be doing your job?" The man continues, unamused, his voice spitting fire across the register and straight into your nerve endings. You pause, glancing up at him and wondering if you heard him correctly. Who the hell was this guy? He's removing his credit card from the back of his phone when he barks out his order. "A four-shot americano. Just black. Got it?"

You nod slowly, heart rate spiking at the man's tone of voice before you glance back down at the register screen. Usually, rude customers don't bother you all that much… but today, after everything that has happened earlier in the morning, you can't help but feel the stinging at the back of your eyes sooner than you expected. You were already close to crying before, but now it's as if it's going to spill out at any moment.

Don't cry. Don't.

You steal a shaky breath, tapping his order onto the register screen.

The man chuckles in an irritated manner. "Do you even speak?"

"Sorry… I uh— Uhm," you clear your throat anxiously, "is there anything else I can get for you today?"

The man bends down slightly, resting his hands on the counter with a sardonic grin glued to his face. You've never felt so uncomfortable in your life. His eyes pan over your name tag that sits on your apron. "Y/n."

Hearing your name formed on his lips makes you even more uncomfortable, which you thought was impossible. Apparently, you were wrong.

"I'll get started on your Americano… It'll be three thirty-nine." You say quietly, motioning for him to pay as you step over to the bar in hopes of getting as far from him as you can. Your hand shakes as you pick up the cup, pulling shots and placing it down below the espresso machine. Looking to the side, you spot Jimin talking to a customer about their order, totally unaware of the situation at hand.

"Make it extra good for me, yeah?" The man says, almost seductively, ignoring his card in the chip reader and focusing his attention on you.

You give him a nod, throat constricted with anxiety as you attempt to calm your shaking hands, spilling the tiniest bit of an espresso shot down the side of the cup. You tend to it quickly, wiping the trail of brown with a rag before drying your hands on your apron. You're thanking your bar skills, having been able to finish it quickly, before you're handing it to the man who is still grinning in your direction.

"Here you go, sir… Have a great day." You paint a smile on your face, which is smeared at the corners of your lips, unable to hide your ever-growing discomfort.

It's the moment you turn to walk towards Jimin that he speaks up again, voice deeper than before.

"Did you put in four shots?" He challenges, staring down at the cup in his calloused hands with a disgusted expression.

"Yes, sir." You respond.

"Then why does it look like you missed it?" He utters, turning it in his hold and showing you a line of espresso falling down the side. You missed a spot. Usually, it wasn't a big deal, but you can feel your heart drop to the floor.

"I paid for four shots. Is this a joke to you?" His voice grows louder word by word, echoing in your ears as your voice wavers in response.

"I'm.. I'm really sorry— I can remake it for you if you'd—"

"I'm going to be fucking late." He sneers, pushing the coffee cup forcefully in your direction before he leans across the counter. His eyes rake you up and down, and you swear you stop breathing. "You should make this up to me in a different way, yeah?"

You can't think straight. This was the first time in your life where you actually felt fearful of losing it. The man is staring at you, every inch of him screaming what your mother always warned you about: "stranger danger." A smirk returns to his face before you hear Jimin's footsteps behind you.

"Excuse me-"Jimin starts, voice strained in frustration, but before he can say another word, Taehyung is beside the man with his hand gripped onto his arm.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Taehyung says, voice low and eyes laced with disgust as he turns the asshole in his direction. Taehyung, although his build isn't as buff as the poor excuse for a man before him, he's still taller than him— and every part of you hopes that this guy would be intimidated. Taehyung hands the drink back to the customer, his stare unwavering. "It's four shots. So take it and leave."

The man scoffs, backing up from the counter with disbelief written on every inch of his face. "Who the hell are you?"

You look at Taehyung, whose hand is balled in a fist as he removes the customer's card from the reader with the other, holding it up to glance at the name. He looks absolutely livid, though his voice is controlled when he speaks. "Jared Stone, is it?"

The man stumbles forward to snatch his card quickly, eyes boring into Taehyungs.

"I'm a journalist." Taehyung continues, calmly, "And unless you want your name written in the newspaper, I'd suggest you leave before I pick up my pen."

You can tell that this "Jared" is starting to falter, believing Taehyung's slight fib, his arms lowering a bit as Taehyung glares at him with the most intense look you've seen on his beautiful face. Taehyung is usually all smiles-- kind eyes with a gentle tone. Like soft snowfall. His surface of genuity hides his ability to be cold and direct. Now, he's anything but soft. His hand is still sporting a fist, and he jerks his head in the direction of the door, coaxing Jared to leave the cafe as soon as possible.

"Fucking asshole," Jared mumbles under his breath, clocking Taehyung in the shoulder with force as he makes his way to the door, throwing his Americano down and splattering hot coffee along the tiled flooring. Customers gasp quietly as he bangs the door open, disappearing amidst the crowd outdoors as you struggle to catch your breath.

What the hell just happened?

"Are you okay?"

You glance back at Taehyung, his dark yet soft eyes studying your face as he once-overs your appearance.

"He didn't touch you, did he?" Now his voice is wavering; the cold lace in his voice is gone and replaced with concern. He's staring at you with every ounce of that concern plastered across his face. You can't help the flutter of your heart in response to having his attention again… the attention of the one person who has been ignoring your existence the past few weeks. But then again, what have you done to help that? Absolutely nothing.

Maybe that's why he looks away once you confirm that you're alright. Maybe that's why he gives you a nod and a "good" before making his way back to his table, albeit a little timidly. Maybe that's why he doesn't question you further and leaves you standing at the counter like a lost puppy, hopeful for the return of the one who loves you most.

When he said he loved you? That was a dream.

You can feel your lower lip quivering as you turn and rush to the back room, Americano frenzy left in your wake as you curl into yourself in the corner. You'll clean it up in a moment.

You know this is just a bad day out of many-- but it feels like everything has been going wrong. What you wanted most at this moment was the same touch of the man who haunts your dreams. You wish he would hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. And the one thing that used to be steady and solid was Taehyung's friendship. Now, even that is ruined.

You make a mental note to speak to him as soon as possible… but you feel way too small right now to even dream of being confrontational.

Maybe that's why you end up crying in the back room, alone, back to your "backroom corner of sadness" with smears of green atop your shirt and spilled coffee on your hands.

You're dreaming again.

It wouldn't take much convincing to know this fact, especially since this dream seems to pick up from the exact spot that your airport dream left off. It was the same lights that shone overhead like a glowing halo, the same aching yet excited feeling in your chest, the same brown backpack carry-on you're currently throwing over your shoulder. You definitely didn't pack light, even for your carry-on, so you can't imagine how heavy your actual luggage is.

How did you even pass luggage check-in?

—

Your thoughts wisp away as soon as the dream jumps to you sitting in your seat, evident from the low whirring of the engine and the uncomfortable leather seat you're sitting in. You've never been a huge fan of planes, since your parents thought it was a good idea to watch "Lost" in front of you right before one of the bumpiest plane rides of your entire life. Ever since that day, you've always been nerve-wracked while flying.

If Taehyung were here, it would probably be easier.

You knew that he wanted to come. You knew that he wanted to be your support system in person, especially during this time of excitement — but he had work and projects, and you had promised him that you'd survive a mere month without his hand to hold. You'd claimed that he would be your "virtual" hand, that you would think of him whenever things got tough, or you felt like you couldn't keep going. After all, he was only a call away.

He had said that he was grateful for this fact. And to stay safe. So, you plan to.

You're too busy admiring the blue sky above, clouds dancing, and creating shapes that only an artist's mind could see. You can see rabbits and dragons hidden within the layers of fog that make up the clouds. You're far too distracted to notice an old woman seating herself beside you. It's when she speaks that you finally fix your attention toward her.

"Is this seat taken?" The old woman smiles. She has light grey hair, kind eyes, and wrinkles that define her age to be over 60 at least. Despite this, she looks youthful and friendly, which makes your nerves feel lighter.

"No, it's all yours!" You return said smile, nodding to her as she places her carry-on beneath her feet. It's an embroidered floral bag; pink flowers cross in zig zags atop the brown surface.

"Where are you headed?" She questions, setting her wrinkly hands on her lap.

You smile gleefully. "I'm going to London, actually!" You can't help but laugh at the old woman's shocked expression.

"Wow! That's quite the plane ride you have ahead of you! It'll be worth it once you're there, though." She seems genuinely excited for you, unabashedly clapping her hands and heightening your excitement even more. You offer her thanks before resuming your study of clouds.

—

You wish you could control this dream, just to bask in the excitement for a little bit longer— but time skips abruptly to the takeoff, engine revving like a loud roar from a lion as it gains speed down the runway. For a moment, your heart palpitates, nerves returning full-fledged. Take off and landing is your least favorite part of flying, fearing the worst.

Within seconds, you feel a warm hand placed on yours. The old woman is smiling kindly at you, rubbing your skin gently in a nurturing way before she looks at you fondly.

"My husband was afraid of flying." She says, squeezing your hand before she resumes looking forward.

"Really?" You question.

"So much so that he used to grip my hand like a stress ball, absolutely crushed my fingers." The two of you laugh, a fond smile playing at her lips, which deepens the wrinkles on either side and makes her smile appear even larger.

"How did he get over it?" You ask, distracting yourself from the upward tilting of the plane that's finally taking its flight. A metal bird on solid wings that you have to keep reminding yourself of its purpose: to fly, not to fall.

"He just held onto me." She shrugs. "He passed away a few years ago, but we used to face all of our fears together. He said that I always made him feel safe enough to face anything."

"He must've been brave. I would have still been terrified." You laugh quietly, holding your breath as the plane finally takes its flight and dips the slightest bit.

She's smiling and laughing in response, a warmth of admiration crossing her features. "I don't think so; he was absolutely shaking."

"Poor guy, he must really love you to face that fear." You respond, finally calming down when you see that the plane has reached high enough without any issues. It allows you to reach down and grab a piece of gum from your bag, which you assume would make the popping of your ears cease.

"He did."

You smile fondly as you pop said piece of gum into your mouth, mint exploding across your tongue. The old woman and her husband remind you a lot of your relationship with Taehyung. He's your safety net, who made you feel as if you could achieve anything.

You loved him.

"Remember," the old woman starts, "tell your loved ones that you love them. You never know how long you have with them."

Your smile fades then, seeing her eyes slowly churn with gratitude, yet she can't hide the fact that she so obviously misses her husband.

"I'm so sorry for your loss.." You whisper, solemnly smiling towards the woman beside you.

"It's okay…" She pats your hand. "We'll be reunited soon enough."

—

Cell Phone Reminder Added:

Tell Taehyung you love him when you land.

—

Another time jump, and this time you can feel the turbulence jostling you within your seat, adding shock to your already fearful state. Your hands are still holding the old woman's hand, and tears are pricking at the back of your eyes like a prodding needle. You've been silently telling yourself that you're going to be okay for the past fifteen minutes, and yet every moment spent on this plane sends you into fifteen different stages of fight or flight mode. Mostly flight mode. You could probably fly this plane better than the pilots.

The loudspeaker crackles.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're experiencing some weather changes. Please keep your seatbelts fastened in the meantime, and we'll be through it soon."

You wish you could say that the announcement eases your nerves, but the second bump of turbulence sends you nearly flying out of your seat, hushed whispers filling the nerve-riddled cabin. Obviously, you weren't the only one within this aircraft that was nervous. You can feel the old woman squeezing your hand again, but even she can't hide the look of terror upon her face.

Another intense jump of the aircraft sends your eyes squeezing shut, legs holding you still by the seat in front of you. You're confident that the passenger seated there is probably too distracted by the turbulence to be annoyed with your childish antics of seat kicking.

Another crackle of the loudspeaker nearly makes your racing heart stop beating.

"Fasten your seatbelts, prepare for turbulence and please remain calm… Fasten your seatbelts, prepare for turbulence and please remain calm…"

The message is repeating like a chant.

Suddenly, a loud crack of thunder and spark of lightning sends the lights of the cabin flickering once, twice, then completely turning off, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. A sudden lurch downwards has you yelping, searching out the window for a sign of safety, but you're met with near darkness from the thunderous clouds around you, which block any form of vision.

The cabin is loud now. Cries and shouts are heard around you as you cover your ears in an attempt to regain control of your fear.

You'll be okay. It's gonna be okay. Just breathe…

Another plummet downwards forces the tears out of your eyes, a muffled scream filling your hands when your stomach jumps up and into your throat. Within seconds, the oxygen masks from above come falling down, and it takes you merely another second to reach for two of them, helping the old woman who is frozen in shock beside you to get her mask on before putting on your own.

You suddenly hear a piercing voice over the loudspeaker, which is crackling even more intensely than before. You hate that loudspeaker more by the second.

"Please prepare for impact."

That's when the screams of neighboring passengers start. A baby wailing in the back of the cabin has the tears pouring quickly down your cheeks. You can't think. You can't see. You wish you could turn on your phone and call Taehyung, but the repetitive swooping downward of the plane knocks you of your senses.

All you can do is remember the smile on his face while waving you goodbye. The loving eyes of a man who loves you. His soft hair flowing as he does a happy dance before you disappear around the corner-- a large smile present on his lips as he continuously sends finger hearts your way.

You wish you could tell him you love him too.

You pray that you will see him again…

It's when you finally underpass the clouds and see the ground quickly coming closer and closer that you stop crying, absolute terror freezing your body, and an immediate wash of acceptance overtaking you. The ground is coming on fast.

This is it.

It seems that every second that passes, another giant swoop of the aircraft takes its ascent. A single tear falls down your cheek when you're merely ten feet away in the plummeting plane.

The last words from your mouth are sincere and quiet:

"I love you, Tae."

A roar rumbles in your ears. You can feel an initial strike of pain from the ground's impact, muffled screams filling your ears, and then…

You jolt upright, a loud shriek escaping your lips as you grasp for any form of life that you can. This form of life happens to be your Phantom Of The Opera blanket, which you tug upwards while frantically scooting back towards your headboard. You can feel the sweat sticking to the polar bear pajamas that hug your legs, clinging to the material and making you feel even more claustrophobic than you already are. Your eyes are blurry, breathing heavy, and your heart is running a mile a minute.

For a moment, you think you're still on that plane. That you're hitting the ground with force and praying to stay alive.

It's only when your surroundings settle in; your warm yet sweat-covered bed sheets, wooden bedside table that is littered with pictures of you and your friends, and the low rumble of a storm outside; only then are you able to catch your breath.

Only then do the tears come crashing down, a tsunami of racing beats of your heart, and the teardrops that fall against your t-shirt.

It felt so real.

And yet it wasn't, you remind yourself, raising your teary eyes to see the "Wicked The Musical" poster that hangs like a trophy on your wall, flashes of lightning brightening the shadow of the window against said poster. Despite knowing that it was all a dream, you can't help but feel as if you're still falling. As if you're dead right at this moment and unable to accept that fact.

What if you are?

This thought scares you, the tears falling again as your hands tremble towards your nightstand in search of your phone. Once found, It's a quick venture for your contacts before you're pressing the call button.

Calling Kim Taehyung…

You bite your lip, the ringing on the line endless as if it was mocking you and your will to be alive.

"This is Kim Taehyung; sorry I couldn't get to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."

You try again.

Calling Kim Taehyung…

No answer.

Again.

Calling Kim Taehyung…

"Please pick up." You whisper, face crumpling at your lack of luck. Taehyung had always been so quick to answer you, but the flashing red of your nightstand alarm clock is reminding you of what time it actually is:

3:00 AM.

"This is Kim Taehyung; sorry I couldn't get to the phone—"

He's probably sleeping, yet you ignore this possibility and attempt to reach him one more time, cutting off the last call and immediately pressing the call button again.

What if you're actually dead? What if this is your life flashing before your eyes? What if—

A tired voice croaks across the line after just a few more rings. "Hello?"

"Taehyung?" You say, your tone panicked and shaking— which is very obvious since his once tired voice is suddenly wide awake when he responds.

"Y/n?" You can hear the rustling of his sheets, probably from him sitting up in alarm. "What's going on, love?"

You don't even register his slip, voice hiccuping from the sobs that are currently racking your throat. If it weren't for your complete lack of brainpower right now, you would probably be embarrassed by the sounds coming out of you. But how could you possibly not cry after a dream like that?

"Where- Where are you?" You question, clinging to your comforter as another round of sobs are released from your constricted throat.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm here." His voice gently whispers, rustling continues, and suddenly you can hear his muffled footsteps over the line. "It's okay, talk to me.. what's going on?"

You blubber a bit, unable to form coherent words, but another hush from Taehyung and an "it's okay" helps you to get your words out.

"I had a- a dream. It was a plane crash, Tae." You cry, breathing slowing down ever so slightly. Your mind is still foggy, but you can feel your consciousness slowly coming back. "Where are you?"

There's dead silence on the line, the previous rustling and footsteps coming to a halt. For a moment, you think you lost him.

"Taehyung?" You whisper, another sob threatening your voice.

"Y/n." His tone is suddenly serious. "Stay right there. I'm on my way, okay? Just breathe. I'm coming." You can hear a jingling of what's most likely his keys and the door slamming shut. "I'm coming. Stay there."

"Okay." You sniffle quietly, hearing the line cut off, and you're left in the silence of your room once more. Without Taehyung's voice to distract you, the heart that beats rapidly in your chest seems to intensify its speed. Why had he gotten so serious after you told him what your dream was?

Ignoring this thought, you quickly lean over to turn on your light, which drowns the once darkroom in rich golden color.

You can see the polaroid pictures of you and Taehyung next to the wicked poster. He's smiling that same boxy smile that lights up a room, his eyes watching you pose for the picture. Not once did he look at the camera, you notice— his eyes were constantly on you. As if you could disappear at any moment, so he had to soak up as much as he could.

Although seeing him smile made your aftershock body relax just the tiniest bit more, you can still feel the fear within you.

You can still feel the initial pain of contact from that plummeting aircraft as it hit the earth's surface. It was as if it actually happened.

The scariest part?

A part of you is almost certain that it did.

He arrives quicker than you thought he would, a loud knock on the door disrupting your dazed-out state, which you haven't moved from since he hung up. If someone saw you at this moment, they would probably think you're crazy. Honestly… with how vivid that dream was… you probably are.

It took about five minutes of sitting there in the silence of your room for the regret to start sinking in; regret for forcing Taehyung up and out of bed at three o'clock in the morning when he could be happily asleep right now. But the moment you open the door, all your regrets cease at the sight of him.

He's got an extreme case of bed head, which he's attempting to hide with a beanie, but his hair is still wildly soaring this way and that— which you probably would've laughed at if it weren't for the circumstances. His face is drenched in concern, and a jacket is thrown haphazardly over himself, which seems to be partly off of his figure from what you'd assume was him running. He had to have been, judging by his labored breathing and snow-covered sweatpants that are painted with white up to his knees.

If you were in your right mind, you would probably be beckoning him in by now— but the only thing you can think to do is cry.

And that's exactly what you do.

You swear you see his own features crumple too, but his arms are around you before you can fully comprehend if you were seeing correctly, solid and warm as his embrace melts into you and consoles your beating heart. He rubs the back of your head with his hand, whispering into your ear and reminding you that everything's okay. The breath that fans along the skin of your cheek is warm and gentle, softening your erratic puffs of breath.

Within moments, he's removing his hat, discarding it on the table, and slowly moving you to the couch before seating himself beside you. His arm only leaves your back when you're fully seated, but it's quickly moving in front of you so that he can hold your hand. Constant touch. Constant reassurance. He's so good at calming you despite barely having to do it before… It's like he already knows what to do. Suddenly, he's the same boy from the rooftop—the same warm and comforting expression and the same soft hands that hold your own.

His smooth, deep voice breaks through your sniffling and thoughts. "Can you tell me what happened?"

With a nod, you begin explaining your dream. It might be all in your head, but Taehyung's face continues to grow paler and paler as you tell him the details. A shell shock look overtakes him in a way that makes your skin crawl. Maybe it's because it was such a dark dream; perhaps that's why he reacts the way he does. But it looks as if he had gone through it himself. His eyes are falling everywhere but on you, and his hand is steadfast on your own and gripping onto it like a lifeline.

"Y/n…" He whispers, his dark chocolate eyes resting on your hands— you try to ignore the fact that you notice a swarm of tears pricking his lower lash line. You don't have the right to call him out for expressing emotions, not after begging him to come over at three in the morning.

Still, "it was just a dream," you assure. Stating this seems to calm the last of your own fear, the weight within your chest dissipating to a dull ache-- still present but bearable.

"Yeah." He nods, quickly wiping the tears away and passing it off for brushing his hair out of his eyes. "It was just a dream." And despite this fact that bursts from his lips, you can still hear the fear within his voice. You don't want to question him in hopes that you'll avoid upsetting either one of you further… you've shed enough tears for one night.

Yet when he leans towards you to wrap his arms around you, tears remain tauntingly behind your eyes. His heart is beating rapidly beneath the thin material of his jacket, thundering hooves of a horse at full speed.

It reminds you a lot of your own heartbeat that night on the rooftop. Your heart too was beating fast enough to possibly jump out of your chest, taking you down the stairs and out of his sight before you had the chance to say no. Suddenly, his warm embrace feels cold. You still haven't talked to him about that night.

Talk to him.

You breathe, "Taehyung."

He hums in response, low and gravelly with his evident exhaustion.

"I'm sorry." You confess.

Taehyung removes you from his embrace, turning you towards him. "It's okay, Y/n. I'm here, and everything's okay now. Like you said, it's just a dre-"

"No." You interrupt, breathing deeply to summon up the courage you've never possessed. "I'm sorry for running away that night."

He stays silent for a moment. He's obviously connecting the dots and slowly coming to terms with what your apology was truly meant for. You can't blame him for being confused since you ignored each other for weeks before you called him over at three in the morning because of a silly nightmare. It's when his gentle eyes slowly meet yours that you know he's on the same page. He still doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry for being scared… I've never really experienced something like that, and I just… I ran like a coward." You fiddle with your fingers, the soles of your feet gliding against the carpet beneath them. "I'm not used to having someone in that way. An intimate way, I mean…" Your cheeks flush. "I've never even kissed anyone until that night."

"Y/n." He whispers, drawing your eyes back to his fond expression. He's looking at you in a way that makes your heart churn: soft, warm, understanding, and loving… all of this hidden within the chocolate of his irises. Gentle Taehyung. "I was too forward. That was completely my fault. I felt like I pushed my luck… and I didn't want to come across as overbearing, so I just felt it was better to distance myself. I didn't want to make you feel like you had to do something you didn't want to. I didn't want to hurt you."

His words are like a warm hug around your wavering heart. You didn't really think about how embarrassed he might have felt, giving his heart to you only to have it left on that rooftop in the cold chill of winter.

You know that you have to make it up to him.

There's a pause of silence in the room, deafening your senses… which must be the only reason why you have the confidence to say:

"Kiss me."

Taehyung looks baffled.

Well, it's too late now.

"A do-over." You add.

Taehyung looks torn, yet his eyes are glued to yours. You try to avoid his gaze, even though you were the one who mentioned kissing in the first place.

Finally, he whispers, "Y/n…"

"Kiss me… I promise I won't run." You explain, words nearly catching in the back of your throat from your increasing nerves. You really didn't think this through.

Taehyung's frozen; the color that was once gone from his face when you told him about your dream is now rushing full force back onto his cheeks. It warms your soul. He looks almost like a child but with an intensity that is anything but childlike. You can nearly feel your heart drop into your stomach.

"Are you sure?" He questions, eyes never leaving yours.

You nod. "I'm done being afraid."

And that's all he needs.

He's slow, like the tide on a lazy river, full of gentleness and cautiousness to ensure that you won't fall overboard. That you won't run away.

And you don't.

It feels like years until his lips are placed delicately on your own, as still as a rock but warm and soft to the touch, beckoning you into its heat. Taehyung is testing the waters, moving his lips ever so slightly against yours… as if he was questioning whether or not you truly wanted this. So, in a trance, you slowly move your lips against his in return, parting them and sinking into the motion.

It seems that this was the only way to reassure him, and you must have done something right— seeing as his hand strays from your wrist and works its way up your arm. His touch leaves behind a trail of goosebumps snaking along your skin, his brows cinching as he leans in even closer to you, and finally parts his lips against yours, dipping to capture your lower lip between his.

If you said you weren't inwardly freaking out for a moment there, you would be lying. Not once have you ever kissed anyone like this. But this is Taehyung, and for some reason, after the initial shock, it feels as if you both have kissed dozens of times. It feels right. Good.

His hand is now snaking around your neck, pulling you in even further, which you didn't think was possible. You swear you can feel your heart jump into your throat when a soft moan escapes his lips as he sneaks his tongue along the line of your lips. Not knowing what else to do, you part your lips for his access.

Not once has a boy been able to give you the shivers, and yet here Taehyung is lowering the last of your resolve when his tongue slides into your mouth. Your face turns beet red when a hiccup uncontrollably constricts your throat.

Taehyung stops abruptly, breathing out softly and distancing himself by only a fraction, probably to make sure you're still alive while still being encompassed in your warmth. You're definitely alive. Still, you feel as if you have to pinch yourself to make sure.

A smile sinks onto his lips, and your heart flutters at the low chuckle that meets your ears. He's perfect… in every way. Your heart clenches from pure adoration for the man in front of you. He's all smiles, lips kiss bitten and eyes soft and gentle... Without being able to restrain yourself, you move back towards him and meet his lips once more.

Like a switch, Taehyung responds a bit quicker this time, resuming his tantalizing routine with his tongue within your mouth. His breath is hot, mingling with your own when you stretch your arm up to place your hand within the softness of his wavy hair. You feel as if you're starting to get the hang of this, smiling a bit and tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss. You swear, the moment you release your own small sound (that you'll probably be embarrassed thinking about later), Taehyung becomes even more heated. He holds the sides of your face gently as if you're made of glass, but his lips say otherwise as they kiss you roughly.

Taehyung moves with you, laying you down on the couch so that he's hovering over you, carefully moving your legs with one hand to keep them from being crushed. All the same, he's keeping the smallest of distances between the two of you. Once you're fully situated, he finally takes the initiative to lay his weight down as his kiss deepens. You can feel the shock and sizzling heat traveling down to your stomach, making your head spin wildly— and obviously, Taehyung feels it too, judging by the low groan that breaks free from his lips.

"I missed you, Y/N." He breathes between kisses, transferring from your lips to your chin, to the side of your face, all the way over so he can take your earlobe between his teeth which sends shockwaves throughout you. How is he so good at this?

You agree with a hum, another small whimper escaping you as he continues his venture down to your neck.

"I mean it… I missed you so much." He repeats, pausing his movements to meet your lips again with a gentle kiss. He strokes your face with his free hand, the other clasped within yours (which you hadn't even noticed they were intertwined until now). "I miss you."

There's a break in his voice, and the slight tremble of his lower lip is throwing you off. Was he about to cry? A second ago, he was devouring you, and now he sounds like a lost puppy. Bless his soul.

"I'm right here." You whisper, running your hand through his hair to push his bangs out of the way. You want to get a good look at him, make sure he's okay. You ignore the catch in his throat.

"I still miss you." He repeats.

It takes a moment before he shakes his head, laughing with a quiet "sorry" before he sinks back down to kiss you. You don't question him further. In fact, you're too busy freaking out to question him further. You don't know where it came from, but a sudden surge of boldness overtakes you, and you're reaching for the lapels of his jacket, shifting it slightly.

Taehyung doesn't seem to be thrown off and is quick to respond, sitting up to remove it and throw it on the ground beside the couch. He's no longer damp from the sleet outside, but warm beneath.

With another deep kiss and a dip of his hips (which is stealing all the remaining breath out of your lungs), he reaches for the bottom of your shirt.

Just when you're about to move his hands up in an effort to get this shirt off, he pauses. You squirm a little, wanting skin-on-skin contact as soon as possible— but Taehyung is frozen.

"You okay?" You question, heat rushing to your cheeks at the notion that he might be overwhelmed. Maybe he doesn't want this much of you.

You're such an idiot.

You hold your breath. "If you don't…" You begin, eyes running in every direction, "… if you don't want to, that's oka-"

"No, no. No." He shakes his head quickly, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips… yet he still seems hesitant. "That's not it. Believe me. I want to."

You can feel your stomach flutter. He could lift one finger, and he'd have your heart soaring.

"It's just…" He pauses, breathing labored. "I have to tell you something… before this goes any further, there's something you need to know."

"What?" You whisper, eyes wide with concern. "Do you have any diseases?"

He laughs loudly at this, shaking his head which tousles his hair this way and that before he leans down to kiss your forehead. You're confused now… And horny. Not a good mix.

"Taehyung, just tell me already." You punch him playfully, hoping to resume this make-out session you've been waiting for for way too long.

He still seems nervous about continuing, his eyes wavering away from your questioning gaze. Every second he takes for silence is adding more nerves onto your chest… was it that serious?

"When I first met you…" He starts, licking his lower lip (which you've noticed is one of his nerve habits) before he finally meets your eyes. He might be slow-moving and sensual on the outside, but his eyes hold a deep churning of fear that makes the already evident goosebumps on your arms a bit more painful. "When I met you that day at the cafe… That wasn't the first time I met--"

Before he can finish, your phone rings. Blaring loud. You're annoyed for a moment, wondering who the hell was trying to get in touch with you at this specific time, but as soon as you see the name on the phone screen, you nearly pass out.

Hyun Do-yun, Film Out Theatre

Holy shit.

The audition. The video audition you sent for the West End audition.

You gasp loudly, reaching desperately for your phone on the coffee table. Taehyung is still hovering over you with curious eyes-- you would give anything to hear what he was going to say… but this call was way too important.

"Can I… It's a theatre opportunity." You whisper, unable to hide your nerves. Your heart is beating full force, just like it was a second ago when Taehyungs lips were on yours.

He nods quickly, smiling at you while he plays with the ends of your hair, keeping himself busy when you finally pick up the call.

"Hello?" You speak softly.

"Hi! Is this Y/N Y/L/N?" A voice of a middle-aged man speaks back.

"Yes, this is." You nod, glancing at Taehyung. He's looking at you fondly, continuing to play with your hair. So patient. Your heart swells.

"Perfect! This is Hyun Do-yun from Film Out Theatre Company! I'm calling regarding your audition for 'The Eternal'? I just wanted to let you know that we've accepted you for the in-person auditions on December 16th! Are you still able to be in London by then?"

You freeze, eyes locking wide on Taehyungs, which he seems to catch your surprise and is looking at you with a questioning stare. There's no way this could be happening. There's no way you just made out with Kim Taehyung, and now you're getting this call. There's absolutely no way. Your heart feels like it's about to combust, and it takes a moment for you to gather your bearings before you respond.

"Wow.. That is-! Wow, thank you!" You sputter, shaking your head in disbelief. "I'm absolutely available; thank you so much."

"Perfect! I'll email you all of the information regarding callbacks, and we'll see you on December 16th!" He chuckles; a shuffling of papers is heard on the end of the line.

"Awesome. Thank you so much again!" You can't contain your smile, closing your eyes in glee before he finally says goodbye and hangs up the phone.

It takes you a moment to truly come back to your senses, the aura of warmth from Taehyungs body hovering above yours finally shaking you from your resolve. Still, he's looking at you with curious and elated eyes at the smile on your face… he must know it's good news!

"I got the callback, Tae." You choke out, excitement bubbling in your throat and causing your words to come out in nearly a squeak.

"What's the call back for?" Taehyung questions.

Oh right, you never even told him about this one— while you were too busy being an idiot and not making a move.

"It's a West End production called 'The Eternal'!! The lead role, Taehyung. The lead role!!"

His veiny hand that was previously playing with the ends of your hair hesitates for a split second, and a flash of something crosses his face. If he didn't immediately start smiling and shaking you with excitement, you might have asked him what that initial look was for-- but you're suddenly too overcome with excitement to care anymore.

"Y/n that is-- amazing." Taehyung beams, deeming it necessary to reward you with a quick peck on your lips. Every time he touches you, the previous thoughts of the audition-- what you were going to wear, your makeup, everything-- all of that seems to waver away in a fraction of a second. All you can think about is the fact that Kim Taehyung is on your couch, practically straddling you and kissing you as if you've always been his. As if this was something he was used to doing daily. If it weren't for your awareness of when you met him, you would probably think that he's known you for most of your life.

Despite the almost embarrassing fact that you're leaning in again to resume the kiss, he pulls away a bit with a smile.

"Woah, slow down. I want to know more about that audition." He's chuckling at your disappointed expression before you're flying through the details of the aforementioned audition. You tell him about the night that you got the email, how Kim Namjoon was the one who reached out to the director and gave you a good word. Taehyung sits quietly as you explain, his hand holding yours as he denies having anything to do with the fact that Kim Namjoon received a video of you singing. You don't believe him when he says that it wasn't him, but you continue anyway.

It may be in your imagination, but the more you speak of the audition, the more Taehyung seems to remove himself from your embrace. At the moment, you don't think anything of it. He's probably more intrigued that you, of all people, are receiving this kind of opportunity rather than the fact that the two of you were making out merely minutes ago.

"Wait..." You scoot up a bit, removing Taehyung completely from lying above you-- seating yourself across from him on the couch. "You we're going to say something to me before I got the call."

Taehyung freezes for a second, glancing at you before he quickly rushes out with a response. "Actually, it's not important."

You give him an "I don't buy it" look.

"Seriously, it was nothing." He insists with a laugh, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. He must know that touching you has a noticeable effect on your ability to function, especially since your eyes are falling to where the skin-on-skin contact occurred. Still, you press on.

"Taehyung, it was obviously not nothing..." You deadpan. "It took you a minute to even get the words out."

"Yeah! Because it was so stupid and didn't need to be said." He counters.

"You're a terrible liar." You respond.

Taehyung narrows his eyes towards you, pretending to be hurt by your comment.

"Come on, Tae, just tell-" But before you can fully get the words out, he leans over and lands a peck on your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours before he pulls away with a satisfied grin on his face.

You can feel your cheeks heating up, a small smile forcing its way onto your lips... This guy is dangerous. Despite this, you can't help but realize how wonderful it is to think about the fact that he could kiss you at any moment. That he wants to kiss you and hold you in the way that you've been hoping for for months. He has no idea how long you've waited for this.

He chuckles at your dazed expression, sighing quietly. "You should probably get some sleep... You have a shift tomorrow."

You stare. "How did you know that?"

Taehyung pauses. "You.. You always work on Fridays, right?"

You nod before throwing a grin his way, raising your hand to his wild hair that's grown wilder after your little rendezvous. "I guess I have a stalker now."

He looks at you incredulously, removing your hand from his head of hair with a quiet "am not." The two of you share a smile, enjoying the peacefulness that encompasses the room before he's finally raising himself from the couch. He's grabbing his things before you finally attempt to stand up with him-- and yet, he immediately stops you.

"Now, now. Your precious West End feet should never touch the floor again!" He says spiritedly, delicately placing you back onto the couch with a kiss. "I'll see myself out, okay? Get some rest."

You don't fight with him, enjoying his dramatics. He's making his way towards the door when he turns to offer you one last smile, blowing a kiss your way before he's disappearing out into the hallway.

For a second, you think that maybe this was just another dream. This whole night could not have happened... it was just way too unrealistic. Yet, here you were. After thousands of pinches later to make sure you were conscious, your eyes meet Taehyungs discarded beanie on your small dining table. He forgot it.

It's winter... he's going to freeze.

Without a second thought, you're leaping up towards the table, snatching his beanie while bounding towards the door to catch him.

Before you can fully leave your apartment entrance, you halt in your tracks, eyes widening slightly.

Taehyung had barely gone anywhere. He's standing in the hallway, his forehead resting against the hallway wall, with his arms placed above his head. Before you can call his name, he makes a quick movement as if he's going to punch it... your breath catches in your throat when he turns into view.

Is he crying?

Why is he crying?

His eyes are red as he grabs a fistful of his hair in both hands, pacing back and forth between the sides of the hallway. He looks completely shaken up. He seats himself on the ground, curling his legs up. You can hear quiet "shits" and "fucks" escaping his mouth as he hides his face in his hands, throwing you off slightly since you've never heard him outwardly cuss before. If it weren't for your fear of confrontation, you would probably be hugging him by now. You don't want to disturb him anyway... not when he probably thinks he's alone. Moments like this need privacy.

The last thing you see is Taehyung picking himself up, closing his eyes together as he attempts to control his breathing before he's shakily making his way towards the door.

If there was one thing Taehyung was bad at, it was hiding his emotions.

But he was, almost scarily, good at keeping secrets.

next chapter

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enjoying this story? please be sure to like and reblog!! it would really help me out, and i would love to hear your thoughts and feelings regarding this work!! thank you for taking the time to read :)

[missymurphy1985]

Nobody's Perfect (part4)

Warning - angst / pregnancy? / Smut

Taglist Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x

"What do you mean it's split??" You looked at him, hoping against hope he was joking.

"What else could I possibly mean y/n?!" You pushed past him into the bathroom to see for yourself. Sure enough, there it was. Burst at the top, how neither of you had felt it you didn't know.

"Listen y/n..."

"Shut up. I'll take care of it, okay." He nodded. You binned it, and moved back past him to put your jeans back on.

"You okay?" He asked, his face still pale.

"Cillian.. stop panicking okay? I'll go to the pharmacy and get the morning after pill. It'll be like nothing happened. I wish nothing HAD happened."

He pulled his own jeans back on and sat on the same chair you'd just ridden him on, head back, hands on his face.

"You mean that?" He asked, bringing his elbows onto his knees and clasping his hands together, looking at you now, leaning against the counter.

"Yes. No... God I don't know.. you.. you fucking hurt me Cillian..." Tears back in your eyes, you sniffed lightly. "I made it to 27 before I had a one night stand, I was rather proud of myself. Then you came along."

"I'm not proud of what I did okay?" He stood and wrapped his arms round you. "I was married for 12 years until about 18 months ago."

"You were?" He pulled away and sat back on the chair.

"We had been trying for a baby for 3 years. Nothing. Then she got pregnant. I was over the moon, went to all the scans, the blood tests, helped her through the morning sickness.. held her hand when our daughter was born.. the works. A father, at last.. then my world came crashing down around me."

You sat opposite him and took his hand.

Cillian's flashback

Bunch of flowers in one hand and a small teddy bear in the other, Cillian approached his front door smiling. He'd finished his theatre run of Ballyturk a few days earlier than expected and was surprising his wife and new baby. Unlocking the front door, he stepped quietly inside and moved into the kitchen. The house was strangely quiet - her car was on the drive, so she must've been home? Checking his watch, 2pm - Niamh's nap time, she was probably resting herself.

Creeping up the stairs so as not to disturb them, he peered into his daughters nursery and smiled at the small 3 month old bundle sleeping soundly. He was desperate to pick her up but settled for a gentle kiss on the top of her head instead. Placing the teddy at the bottom of her cot, he heard a noise from the main bedroom.

Making his way down the landing, he went to open his and Liane's bedroom door before freezing.

"Fuck... Yes..." That wasn't Liane...

"Harder!!" That was...

"You gonna come for me Liane?" His mind was whirring at 100 miles per hour. He took a deep breath to calm himself down.

Pushing the door open, in his best poker face possible, he stood watching as his best friend, the best man at his wedding, was pounding into his wife.

"You gonna come or what, Liane?" His voice pierced the room, making Liane and Mark freeze and spin around, covering themselves and staring at Cillian, who simply walked out of the room and went downstairs.

He sat at the dining table, head in his hands, refusing to let the tears fall. Liane and Mark came downstairs and cautiously approached him.

"You were away filming for almost 2 years solid... I just... I didn't mean for it to happen..." Liane spoke.

"I haven't filmed a fucking thing for 9 months Liane. But it's good to know exactly how long you've been fucking my wife, Mark." He didn't look at either of them. His calmness was almost scaring Liane.

"Cillian I'm sorry man..." Mark broke the silence.

"Shut the fuck up. You've been fucking my wife for the best part of 3 years and you think you have a right to fucking speak to me? You were my best friend! I introduced you to your fucking wife! You have kids! WE have a child, Liane!" His voice was getting louder, he had to bite his fist to stop himself as the sudden realisation dawned on him. His eyes flashed red, unable to fully process it.

"Cillian..."

"Is she mine? Liane, is she mine?!" Her silence spoke volumes. Cillian dropped to his knees, the shock taking his legs from under him. He felt like a truck had hit him at full speed, knocking the wind out of him. Mark moved to pick him up, before being violently shoved across the room and slammed into the wall. Liane rushed upstairs to soothe Niamh who was now wide awake and screaming.

"You're lucky I haven't wiped the fucking floor with your face, you slimy bastard..." He gripped Mark's shirt so tight he couldn't feel his fingers, before slamming him back against the wall and storming out the house.

Flashback over

"I went back to Cork. Called my Dad on the way there to let him know I was staying for a few days. DNA test was done. Mark was Niamh's father."

"Cill... I'm so sorry, I had no idea.."

"No one knew. We kept it quiet. No one knew. Just divorced and she moved on. Haven't seen her since."

You truly didn't know what to say. The man in front of you was a shell of the one you knew before.

"Cillian Murphy, the 'golden balls of fucking Hollywood' - couldn't even keep his own fucking wife satisfied enough not to fuck his best friend. Couldn't father a child himself, after years of trying. Wouldn't worry too much about that morning after pill, probably not capable of knocking you up anyway."

"Cillian..."

"So after that, I refused to let anyone else in. Yeah, I fucked around - made sure it was with people I trusted to keep quiet and not run to the papers with it. Co-stars who needed a quick fling. Makeup artists and crew members that no one would believe anyway. It was working just fine, until.."

"Until what?"

"Until you, y/n. No one else managed to get under my skin the way you have. No one else wanted more from me - but you did. So I did what I had to do to make you hate me. I needed you to NOT want me.."

"How's that working for you?" You couldn't help but chuckle, and it made him smile.

"Yeah.. not going to plan anymore. Fuck, I'm sorry.. I am.. I didn't set out to hurt you, I was protecting myself. Selfish right?"

"Yes, but I understand. How about we start again? Forget what's happened, a fresh start?"

"I'd really like that y/n. I'm not an asshole.. just stupid."

"I'll agree with you on that. Come here." You lifted him to his feet and wrapped your arms around him. You held each other for a few minutes, before he leaned back and stroked your hair.

"What are you doing to me, huh?"

"Giving you a chance at being happy - you're allowed to be happy, Cillian. Not all women are out to break your heart. Don't let past relationships define future ones. I'm a fucking sweetheart!" You grinned and he laughed again. You could lose yourself hearing that laugh.

"You're certainly something." he nudged your nose with his.

"I have a request..."

"Name it."

"I don't want anyone knowing what happened between us.. it's private.. and this is my first real role, my turn to be selfish but kinda looks bad.." He nodded.

"Deal. So do I still get to kiss you?"

"Maybe."

"Touch you?"

"Maybe." He leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"Fuck you?" You gasped as his lips brushed your neck.

"Definitely."

[propaganda-for-poets]

Random dps headcannons we made at 2am :]

Dps movie night (Chris and Ginny included)

okokok but imagine,,

Once a month the dps squad watches a movie.

They always fight over it, but eventually they always end up with Grease

"BUT IT'S MY TURN TO PICK"

"NEIL YOU ALWAYS PICK MAMMA MIA"

"WE ALWAYS WATCH GREASE ANYWAYS"

Or they just yell at each other until someone goes "GREASE" and everyone agrees

Basically

Neil memorized the script and he would mouth the words during some scenes

Charlie steals all of the popcorn and plays his clarinet along to the songs horribly

Cameron: i take it back i hate the clarinet

Todd falls asleep like,, 10 minuets after the movie starts

He's a deep sleeper and will sleep through everything, but Neil is always worried they'll wake him up

"guys quiet he's sleeping"

"neil we're nine people in a room watching grease if he wanted to sleep peacefully he would've known better than to come here"

Charlie insists to draw permanent marker on Todd’s face when he’s asleep but Neil makes sure he doesn’t

Meeks and Pitts are just on their phones the whole time playing Minecraft, but they will belt Hopelessly Devoted when the time comes

All of them just belts Hopelessly Devoted

Bold of you to assume meeks, pitts and charlie would miss reenacting look at me i'm sandra dee every single time

They almost got banned from doing it after charlie accidentally elbowed cameron in the face and his nose started bleeding but in the end they just all decided charlie doesn't get to be rizzo again

He mourned

Knox is the only one actually trying to watch because he hadn't watched grease before and he still hasn't understood what's going on even though they've watched it 20 times because of all the chaos

So Chris explains to him whats going on

The one time they Didn't watch grease they watched the breakfast club because it was ginny's birthday and she asked

And knox hadn't realized until halfway that they're not watching grease

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT I THOUGHT THAT WAS RIZZO"

"SHE DOESN'T EVEN LOOK LIKE RIZZO"

Neil always cries during There are worst things I could do

The first time they watched Grease Neil thought it was west side story for a split second and he never heard the end of it

",,,,,,,neil you're a theatre kid,,,,,"

"SHUT UP I KNOW I GOT CONFUSED"

Todd's favorite song is Grease Lightning and once he belted it and left everyone shookethtm

Charlie's favorite is summer nights but he says he doesn't have a favorite

He's lying

Knox is a bad dancer but he’ll always dance along with Chris during “We go together”

Mr.Keating even joined once since it’s his wife's favorite movie

He doesn’t understand what everyone is doing but he enjoys watching them have fun :)

"look at those boys :) they have rabies"

Charlie also introduced them all to shifting so as a joke they all tried group shifting to grease

Also meeks absolutely loses it during sandy every time he thinks that song is the funniest shit ever, he refuses to bully people but danny zuko is the exception

john travolta will be like "stranded at the drive innn" and meeks is fucking on the floor shitting himself

ginny would go into rants about how sexist the whole concept of the movie is and then the second it starts she knows every word

one time cameron went "so do we watch grease" before anyone recommended anything and everyone was like ",,,,,,,,,,,,,,,well dammit cameron we didn't even get to fight about it"

one time meeks fell asleep bc he hadn't slept in like five years probably and charlie tried to draw on his face and he fuckin snapped his eyes open and went "do you have a death wish, char?🙂"

CHRIS PAINTING EVERYONE'S NAILS (still somewhat part of the movie night hcs)

Cameron was a bit afraid to at first but then the boys convinced him

Chris asks todd what color he wants before they start the movie cause he'll definitely be asleep in like 10 minutes

“I want black pls”

“No Todd ur not getting black”

Eventually he just a gets mixed pastel colors

Neil got Red and Black,,

Meeks got black bc he was complaining that he doesn't want to ruin his aesthetictm

Charlie, like the disaster gay he is, got all of them

“Chis don’t care what order their in or if I only have 10 fingers. I WANT ALL OF THEM"

He also once put nail polish on his face. Don't ask

Even Mr. Keating had his nails done,, they were pink

Once Chris brought her nail polish pen once so Knox got yellow nails with Smiley faces on them

Chris literally falls down to her knees and thanks the gods when she gets to cameron because his hands are so steady it's making it so much easier for her bc the rest literally wouldn't stop moving

Charlie literally took seven years to get his done and then the second chris was over he touched the couch and ruined them

and got nail polish on the couch

Chris had a fucking break down

He literally left the premises

She went for a walk to avoid murdering Charlie

The end

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 08

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, fainting, anxiety

A/N:  this is a tiny chapter that i wrote while listening to folklore from taylor swift and i just really wanted to share it today. hope you enjoy it. much love xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N rushed off the set, she felt sick, too sick. The scene replayed in her head like a wrapped twisted horror movie scene and everyone around her seemed to look at her, almost as if they knew, shaming her. She continued to run, to run to the car as if going to the car was going to save all her issues. It was Bucky’s car and Bucky made her feel safe, it was safe, it was safe there. However, she could still feel the stares burning on her back like camera flashes and with her hands in front of her face, she ended up going against someone. 

     - Y/N? Are you okay? - the words sounded echoed and she looked up to see Chuck holding her, concerned drawn all over his normally relaxed features. Yet, not even the familiar face seemed to calm her down. She could still feel it, she could still feel his hand on her leg, his rough, sandpaper like skin rubbing against her thigh. Was that why she had gotten the role? Did she had no ability to act? Was it all a way to get her close? She started to breathe in fast, breathing in and out faster than her body allowed her. Soon enough, she felt herself dizzy headed. - Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?

The sound seemed to dim and the lights got brighter until suddenly everything just collapsed on top of her and she felt herself get heavier and heavier. Chuck gripped onto her as so she wouldn’t fall onto the ground. The man looked around for anyone but there wasn’t anyone who was even looking at him or had even noticed her. As he looked around he did see something, Bucky, staring him down who started walking his way as if he were a lion and Chuck a gazelle. On that moment, Chuck wished he hadn’t been the one who had caught her.

    - She fainted. - he said before he could taste a bit of the former Winter Soldier’s ire. - She was breathing too fast, I don’t know why.

Bucky mumbled something under his breathe, cursing the director and himself for not having been there for Y/N. He took her from his friends’ arms, his own arm going under her knees to pick her up bridal style, her face leaning against his chest. He looked around and people still weren’t interested. At least there was something that didn’t change about the world, he thought. Still selfish, still unable to look outside their own lives to see others. He wanted to be wrong about her being eaten alive, he so wanted to be wrong yet you don’t live to be over a hundred and not know what soft people go through. 

He wanted to be wrong so badly, he wanted to protect her from everything. God, he wanted to be able to tell her it wouldn’t happen again but he couldn’t. He could punch his way through protecting her but he could never tell her that other people wouldn’t try it. In that moment he wondered what was worse, if his past or her present. 

Bucky guided her into the back seat of his car, pulling a quilted blanked, which normally laid on the floor of the car for whenever one of his friends passed out drunk, and laid it over her. Last thing she needed was for some cheeky paparazzo to photograph her unconscious in the back of someone’s car. As he drove, his eyes were glued onto the mirror, eyes on her. He drove the softest and slowest he could, as if he carried a newborn baby. 

He got to her apartment and drove inside the garage, parking next to that oil stain before going to pick her up once more. He probably guessed she had fainted due to fast breathing, probably an anxiety attack. He should’ve gone after her, he told himself as he stepped inside the lift. Some of her neighbours gave him encouraging looks, as if carrying an unconscious woman was something to be proud of. He gave them intimidating looks, exiting the lift and walking straight to her home. Her home always smelled nice, notes of vanilla, apple and cinnamon, probably due to the tea light candles she had scattered around several rooms. In any other situation he would tell her about it being a fire hazard but by the amount of candles, he guessed it probably brought her a sense of comfort to see the twinkling flame and smell the sweet aromas. 

Walking into her room, he pushed the several blankets that decorated her bed and laid her down, pulling the blind down and the blankets to cover her. She will be okay, he told himself. He just didn’t know if to believe himself. 

Y/N woke up not with the sun shining, no, it was night time and she couldn’t remember exactly how she had ended up home. She gripped her sheet and rose her torso up, leaning against the metal framing of her bed while her free hand rubbed the sleep off her eyes. Her hearing was still somewhat echoey but she could hear two people fighting. She rose from her bed and walked up to the door, opening it slowly to check who was fighting.

    - She was feeling uncomfortable and she fainted. Are you seriously gonna give her a talk because of that? - she could recognise Bucky’s voice, seeing his arm from the fringe of the door. 

   - She’s a disappointment for this agency. What if the production had gone on hold? - that was definitely Miss Olson’s voice.

   - She’s human and considering how you and your people treat her, it’s not surprising she hasn’t been completely healthy.

   - You are her bodyguard so I would suggest you stay out of this. 

   - I will protect her from you if it’s necessary now get out. You can speak with her during her working hours like a regular person. - he closed the door on her, the harsh sound making Y/N take in a silent gasp, hand in front of her mouth. She wasn’t entirely sure how the former Winter Soldier would react to someone listening on his conversations so she rushed back to her bed, pulling the bedding up to her.

She felt guilty, guilty he had to deal with her problems and guilty she had put the agency in trouble. She didn’t meant to, she really didn’t meant to cause anyone any harm. Maybe people were right, maybe she should’ve stuck to theatre, that was all she could do. Maybe her father was right, she should’ve made use of the law degree which was gathering dust in the attic. She didn’t know, she didn’t know anymore. The only time the director seemed to be happy was if she was being what he wanted, the agency was barely happy. Maybe she wasn’t a good actress.

    - Y/N? - she turned her head to the side to see Bucky holding a paper cup from the tea shop downstairs. - I got you some tea, thought it’d make you feel better.

    - Bucky, it’s past your clock in time. You should be home with your friends.

   - Well ... - he sat next to her, putting the cup on her bedside table. - I only consider Steve my friend, the others are just people I live with. Besides, it’s Taco night in the tower and I don’t particularly fancy it. 

   - I really fucked up didn’t I? - she sighed. - I’m going to get fired.

   - No, princess, you’re not gonna get fired. - he handed her the tea. - The director personally promised me you’re not gonna get fired. 

   - Really? - he felt the breath that had gotten stuck on his throat leave once he noticed she didn’t seem to realise the pet name he had let slip.

   - Yeah. Come on, you just got nervous, it happens. I got nervous too when I was first drafted. 

   - With all due respect, Bucky but you don’t look like the guy who gets nervous. 

   - When I was first drafted, I spent at least half an hour in the bathroom throwing up. I would say you deal with stress much more gracefully than me. 

   - You’re just saying that to make me feel better. - she laughed, moving her head to look at the blankets covering her legs, hair moving to form almost a curtain which kept Bucky from seeing her soft, almost princess-like smile. Bucky had met several women and taken out some more but none of them seemed to have the softest of movements Y/N had, the elegance which came ever so naturally yet mixed with her natural clumsiness so perfectly. It was a stellar thing he loved to experience. - I don’t know if I’m worth all of that. 

    - Come on, you did so good today. 

    - Sure ... “it’s like he was touching a piece of wood” surely sounds like a great day of acting. 

    - That’s not your fault, maybe your friend just sucks at touching.

    - No, I just suck at reacting to touch. 

    - Mhm ... - Bucky looked at her before an idea popped into his head. He smirked, before his fingers went to touch her torso, dancing around and effectively tickling her. Y/N let out a hearty chuckle, letting herself lay down in the middle of her several pillows while he tickled her torso up and down, head moving with chuckles. He was standing atop her watching her eyes closed, large wide smile, the only type of smile he’d seen in Coney Island which her hands trying to shoo his away while the most melodic of chuckles excited through her still painted scarlet lips.

    - Bucky! - she shrilled as his hands left her torso to instead hold his body, each hand on the side of her shoulders. Y/N gained her breathe, her eyes opening up to stare at his. She wondered why time suddenly stopped, one hand going to cup his face while other pushed some of the hair that covered his eyes away. 

The eyes, you cannot change someone’s eyes. They remain mostly the same from the moment you are born to the moment you die. They remain the same through hard and good moments of your life and Bucky’s had remained the same. They were bright, bright and clear, contrasting his mostly conflicted mind. You could almost see yourself in them. 

     - You have really pretty eyes.

     - Don’t change the subject. - he coughed, trying to maybe get the flush he was getting to disappear. - You seem pretty reactive to touch, I’d say it’s Charles fault. 

     - You don’t need to make me feel better, Bucky. - she sat up. - You really don’t. Maybe I’m just not good enough for all of this.

     - You cannot win every single battle, no one does.

     - Have you ever lost a battle? - Y/N found it harder to believe that the Winter Soldier formerly known as a ghost story for how good he was would have ever lost something. No, she just seemed to be finally waking up that maybe her place was not here.

     - Yes and my loss was pretty much publicised all over the Washington papers. You can Google it, Sam has pretty much all of them framed in the kitchen. I am reminded of it everyday. - he chuckled, turning to face her. - It’s not going to happen again, Y/N. I can promise you that. 

Y/N remembered one thing that her mother had told her when she was little. She was riding her bike and hit a stone making her crumble and fall to the ground, hurting her knee in the process. She didn’t want to get on a bike after that but her mum took her hand and sat her on the bike, told her she believed she could do it again and when she replied she couldn’t, her mum told her “it only really takes one person to believe in you”. She had never thought of it much after, she had never really had someone believing her. She could maybe say her agency did but she was too smart to know what her contract stated. If she did well, they earn money. It’s not that they believe in her, it’s that she’s bankable. However, looking into Bucky’s eyes, hearing his words echo in her mind, maybe someone believed in her.

     - Thank you for defending me today.

     - Anytime. 

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @nsfwsebbie @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @tonystankschild @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverrated @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex​

[the-silentium]

5²

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 2770 words

Warnings: Swearing.

Requested by: @justalittleb1tcrazy​ & Anon

Hi! I love your work, and I have an idea/request if it’s not too much to ask :) i’ve been thinking about a continuation of the 11 Five fic (because I adored it) where the Hargreeves go back to 2019 like s2 and the reader is a part of Sparrow Academy and she’s slightly more edgy personality wise, or something like that lol

Hi! Just finished reading 11 and I sobbed so hard ngl,, would it be alright to ask for a part two?? Maybe it could be about how five goes on after wards, honestly I just need closure :(( it was so good,,,

A/N: Here’s 11 Part 2! Hope you guys like it! @justalittleb1tcrazy​, I already had the part 2 planned in my head, but you weren’t wrong with the Sparrow Academy! (almost) Also, the Sparrow Academy is totally OC, I didn’t go with the comics.

The days following your death were the most exhausting days Five ever lived. Between running around to gather his siblings and trying desperately to find a way back to 2019, losing precious time to sleep wasn’t even an option. He was running on the last bits of adrenaline his body could give him, the determination to find you back in 2019 and apologize profusely while holding onto you for dear life was enough to keep his body functioning for so long. 

When Klaus broke the circle to go fetch the cowboy hat, Five genuinely wondered if the homicidal rage was finally getting to him because the thought of murdering his brother with his bare hands seemed pretty enjoyable at the moment. His patience was running thinner by the seconds and the lack of caffeine in his bloodstream was doing nothing to appease his pulsion. 

As soon as the circle was complete again, the time-traveler visualised the right equations in his mind, warmth radiated through his hands and soon he jumped to the old mansion along with his siblings. 

For a second, Five let himself live the joy of the moment. He finally did it. His dream for the past 45 years was now fulfilled, by his actions the people he loved the most could live in a world where the apocalypse never occurred and will never happen, where they had a real future and where he could live the life he wanted back when he was just a kid in the skin of his now-adult body. 

He dodged Klaus’ open arms and closed his fists to jump to his bedroom, where he knew you were waiting for him to come back from the Icarus Theatre, but the familiar laugh bouncing around in the living room stopped his movement. His heart fluttered in his chest, his desire finally so near. He didn’t lose a second and jumped to the living room, his eyes searching for you excitedly. 

You were seated on the second floor, your legs between the railings slowly swang in the air, your eyes fixated on a book opened in your hands, its words bringing a beautiful smile to your lips. 

He didn’t recon jumping behind you, but next thing he knew, your back was facing him and you perked up at the soft old floor’s whine. 

“Five, you’re back!” The joy in your voice got him to his knees, the relief of finally being able to hold you alive and well in his arms was too much for him to handle. 

On an impulse, Five’s hands reached for your cheeks as you were turning your head to welcome him home, his desperation of the last couple of days showing through the not so delicate kiss he pressed on your lips. 

Stars flashed behind his closed eyelids, not because of the power of the moment like he expected but because of the powerful right hook you managed to land on his temple. Five fell on his ass, stunned, hurt and utterly confused. 

He opened his eyes to see you hurriedly get up from your spot and back away from him. He almost didn’t register the fear in your eyes before you tripped on a nearby bench and fell over. Always quick, Five jumped to your side and caught you before you touched the hard floor. 

“What’s wrong? It’s me, Five!” He asked, his voice laced with worry while his eyes searched your face for any clue of why you attacked him after clearly being happy that he was back. 

“You’re not Five.” You spat with anger. “Let go of me, asshole!” You jiggled in his grip, successfully freeing yourself without much of a fight, your words paralyzing him. It couldn’t be. 

His sibling’s footsteps along with their worried voices echoed around Five but none of their words reached him, his thoughts were way too loud for any sound to break through his mind. 

The answer was obvious. His siblings always managed to fuck up his plans, creating the biggest catastrophes everywhere they went and destroyed everything they touched. They had fucked with the timeline. They had fucked his dream. They had fucked his future. 

Just as Five thought he couldn’t be angrier, a new bunch of people joined your side, one particular brown-haired man wrapping you in his arms from behind and holding you tightly to his chest. The sight of another man holding you made his blood boil in his vein, the feeling reminded him of the deadly phase seven; homicidal rage. If you hadn’t gripped tightly the man’s forearm, Five would have definitely jumped into a fight he was sure to lose but needed beyond reason. 

“Who the hell are these guys?” Klaus’ voice broke the heavy silence of the room. 

The biggest one of the new group turned his head toward his brother and Five already knew what he was going to say. 

“We are the Sparrow Academy. I am Number One.“ 

Five’s eyes were still locked with yours, wishing for this nightmare to end or for you to break out of your act and confess that this was a very elaborate prank like you used to pull on him in your younger years. His salvation never came. 

"Shit.”

Five was surprised his family caught up with the events instead of being clueless as usual. 

Turns out their dad was disappointed enough of them during their meeting in the 60s that he adopted a completely different set of children instead. Five was sure that it wouldn’t hurt that much, knowing his dad replaced him, but it did hurt. A lot. After all he did to save the world, he was replaced like an insignificant object. Oh and to top it all? You fell in love with the current Number Five who can manipulate time as he willed. Out of spite, Five decided to call him Square from now on. 

The lack of sleep mixed with his jealousy was making him very snappy and on edge. When he was trying to stop the apocalypse the first time, you were the only one able to calm him down from his cumulated frustration and anger. You’d take his hand, lay your head on his shoulder and talk to him about anything and everything. 

Maybe it was delusional of him to think that even in another timeline you would remember him if he shared enough time with you. He couldn’t stop thinking that he was the original, the very first Number Five and that you belonged with him and not a pale copy, so he jumped to the kitchen where he knew you were making yourself a drink.

“Hot chocolate.” The sweet scent reached his nostrils and the memory of you showing him how to make it just like you liked played in his mind, stretching his lips into a fond smile. “You never changed.”

“I don’t like what’s bitter.” You shot him a wary look, clearly remembering that he jumped on you earlier. “I thought my Five made it clear, you altered the timeline. Even if another me was with you, I am not yours.” You mixed the hot water with the cocoa mix and turned to get what else you needed to make it perfect. 

You stopped in your tracks when Five showed you the vanilla essence and chocolate chips in his hands.

“Thank you.” You whispered as you took the items from his hands. 

“Happy to know some things never change.” Five stated, following you near the mugs. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw you shoot him a glance when he reached on the shelves for a cup. 

“Do you remember your past and future lives yet?” He questioned as he prepared himself a pot of strong black coffee. 

“H-how do you know?” He was proud that finally your attention was completely on him. “My Five doesn’t even know.” Five tried to ignore the pinch of his heart when you stated that he wasn’t yours. 

“I know a lot about you.” He watched the black liquid fall from the coffee maker into the pot, hoping it would work faster. “Do you remember the 60s?" 

"I remember the French Renaissance, the US colonization and a bunch of other lives but no, I never lived in the 60s.” You frowned, your eyes moving away, surely trying to remember if you really lived in that period. 

“You did, you simply don’t remember it yet. If my theory is right, you won’t remember the 2019 life we had because everything changed in the 60s and erased it. This means that you’ll most likely remember the 60s some time soon and only then you’ll remember our 2019 because it happened back then.” His heartbeat accelerated at the perspective that you’d remember your affection for him and everything would go back to normal. Almost. 

“So you think because I’ll remember my past life I’ll leave my Five for you?” You scoffed. “You’re so frickin’ arrogant.” You grabbed your cup and turned around, preparing yourself to walk away from him. 

“I’m not arrogant!” His frustration exploded. 

“Oh yes you are!" 

"I’m scared!” His voice broke, but he didn’t care. Your furrowed brows relaxed and the insults on your tongue died along with your anger. 

“Why?" 

"I’m scared that I’ve lost forever the person who’s the most important to me. I survived 45 years in the apocalypse for you. I stopped an apocalypse for you. And you don’t even remember me.” At some point tears fell from his eyes, splashing into the cup tightly encased in his hands. “I’m scared I’ll never get to tell you that I love you.” His voice was merely a harsh whisper but you heard it nonetheless. He knew. 

Your footsteps walking away made him close his eyes in agony. Just like the day he found your tortured body lying in a pool of your blood. 

“Stop being an asswad.” You muttered before leaving the room. Five’s cup exploded between his hands, causing shards to cut into his flesh and blood to pool onto the counter. A small smile adorned his lips, a new flame of hope burning into his heart. 

You avoided him like the plague for the next following days, exiting every room he entered and eating outside the manor whenever you could. He found it quite irritating but he knew you needed the time to think. You were starting to remember, he was sure of it by the small glances he received from you everytime you fled to another room. 

He finally got some sleep, his dreams full of the comforting warmth of your arms, sweet words were whispered in his ears while one of your hands lightly combed his hair with your fingers. He desperately wanted to stay asleep, to never leave you again, but life was cruel and he always woke up, the reality hitting him like a brick. You would avoid him, again. He would die inside, again. 

After changing into his newly bought day clothes, Five jumped into the kitchen, his too great need of coffee controlling his actions. He found you seated on the counter next to the freshly brewed coffee pot, a book in hand, a hot chocolate cup in the other. 

“Good morning asswad.” You said without lifting your gaze from your line. 

Five noticed your grip tighten around your book as he made his way toward you. He stopped centimeters away from your knees, his gaze transfixed onto your evading eyes. He patiently waited for you to meet his gaze before bidding you good morning. 

Your breath caught in your throat when he leaned forward, his arm outstretched to grab a cup on the shelve behind you. Maybe today wouldn’t be as bad as the others. 

He poured himself a cup full to the brim and carefully took a first gulp of his liquid addiction. He sighed at the taste, strong and bitter, just as he liked. 

“So I do remember it right.” You closed your book and put it at your side on the counter. Your eyes lifted to meet his, causing Five to almost drop his cup at your tired expression. “What am I supposed to do now?” You sighed and rubbed your face with your free hand. 

Five’s stress level skyrocketed. He knew what you were referring to. You were torn apart between living your present or allowing your past feelings to guide who you are now. He had wished the choice would have been obvious, that you would choose him without an ounce of doubt, but you were struggling. 

“My feelings for you were so strong that I feel them now a-and they confuse me so much. I never felt that for-” You stopped yourself but Five knew what you meant. You never loved Square that hard and he was glad. “But what we had was in the past and what I have with him is real.” Tears gattered in your eyes just as panic flowed through Five’s mind. 

“What we had was real! It’s still real now! You feel it and I sure as hell still feel it!” He put down his cup and softly placed his hands on your knees, desperation to prove his point showing in his eyes. 

“I’m just being overwhelmed by my past.” You shook your head as tears fell down your cheeks. 

“No you’re not. You’re panicking because you remembered me and fell in love with me through your memories. I’m the same man and you are the same woman and you know it!" 

A sob passed your lips and Five reached for your waist to pull you into a comforting hug. Before his fingers even touched your form, you disappeared. Stunned, he turned around to find you into Square’s arms, his angry eyes shooting daggers at Five. 

"Stay away from her.” He growled before disappearing with you. 

Five kicked the nearest chair, pissed off by the time manipulator. He could not fight with someone capable of slowing, quickening or even stopping time. He had to put his last hope in you.

Square stayed at your sides for the next two days. Five saw how his constant presence was getting on your nerves, you needed time alone and he was denying you that out of jealousy. 

Five was scribbling into his notebook when you walked up to him, definitely pissed off. Your hands were closed into tight fists and you huffed as you let yourself fall onto the couch next to him. You lifted your feet onto the cushion and hugged your knees. 

He wanted to reach out for you so much, although it was clear that you needed your space. He waited for you to start the conversation, apprehension eating at him. 

“They say ‘You can’t just give up on someone because the situation is not ideal. Great relationships aren’t great because they have no problems. They’re great because both people care enough about the other person to find a way to make it work.’” You took a deep breath before turning your head to meet his eyes. “I want to make us work. Like we always did." 

Five’s heart stopped. Not in agony this time, but in relief. Happiness overwhelmed his senses and quickly, he reached for you to pull you against his chest and keep you close while tears fell from his eyes as the stress lifted from his shoulder. Your arms snaked their way around his waist and for a moment, he let himself melt under your touch that he needed for so long now. 

"I love you.” He whispered the words he so desperately wanted to tell you in the 60s. 

“I love you too.” You snuggled deeper into his neck, your hot breath on his skin giving him goosebumps. “Thank you." 

"For what?” He frowned, genuinely wondering why you were thanking him. 

“You stopped the apocalypse, Five. You gave so much to save the world.” You pulled away, smiling at him brightly. “Thank you." 

Five realised that he was never thanked before for anything he had done for anyone. His composure melted and more tears ran down his face, the very first acknowledgement of his actions and sacrifices hitting him right in the feels. 

"I’d do it all again for you.” He replied with a broken voice, his throat constricted and tears drowning him. 

You pulled him into your chest after letting your feet fall on the floor, where he cried out of relief that you were still with him and out of exhaustion of everything he went through so that he could ensure that you and his family were safe.

[jiminrings]

honestly i could talk w band!hobi abt numbers all day, like i wouldn't even mind. what are ur thoughts on 27 hobi? i think they a bad bitch. also UM might i request a drabble abt like a film major! yn (that is very enthusiastic abt films and the aesthetics + cinematography and whatnot) w like,,, a theatre kid?? any of ot7 works fine and it's all good if u can't or don't want to! thankyouu 💜

muse of mine

pairing: namjoon x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: namjoon’s always been a little sensitive to feedback whether it’s positive or negative, y/n’s an endearing type of talker, and smuggled snacks to the theater haven’t ever tasted this sweet :D // gif from pinterest!

notes: i kinda switched it up a lil bit and made them more established in their respective fields bc my mind went berserk on this concept!!! also this is mayhaps my oNLY piece that’s just pure fluff

“27? The number? Hmm. That sounds... sexy.” - band!hobi

this been’s bugging you for the past half hour

this whole experience feels oddly familiar

you’ve been in this theater for half an hour so far to watch this play!!

lmao ur gonna admit RIGHT off the bat that theatre’s definitely not it for you

your slight unfondness for it is deeply-rooted back to university and for four years, you’ve consistently taken dumps on theatre kids even if it’s under your breath

alright it’s possible that you don’t hATE the actual people ( only some of them ;D ) themselves but rather this whole type of cockiness and the “i’m a direct descendant of shakespeare himself. trust me bro. on god” energy that they always seem to exhude

but realistically, maybe this deep-rooted hate stemmed from seokjin

he was the guy you’d share the exact same elective class with him for two straight whole semesters and you’ve been seatmates from time to time

homie took foreign language as an elective?????

the language is korean?????????????????

“wait b-but i — aren’t you — n-no but i really???”

that’s what you first sputtered to him in realization when he took his seat beside you

the two of you have only ever shown each other notes bc the other was dozing off and the occasional sharing of gummy bears that’s already pre-opened to not make any noise

but for some reason, it’s only dawned in you why seokjin’s a god in this class and he answers your questions without even looking at his notes by hALFWAY through the whole semester of foreign language

one day, u are gonna find a way to bodyslam yourself and never recover from it ever again

“mhmm. don’t sweat it, sweetheart. i personally think it’s very don quixote of me to y’know, take something as impractical and amusing as this.”

you snort at his choice of words because honestly!! you barely remember don quixote and jin’s use of it as an adjective jigs up a refresher course on your brain

who was he again?? 

was he the donkey

.. or are you thinking about shrek again because of your film analysis

you sWEAR there was a donkey in that story

it’s good fun to talk with jin even if he keeps sliding bourgeoisie words here and there and you’re a lil confused with all these references that he makes but that’s okay !!!

atleast even him saying it in a long-winded way that he was like someone from the merchant of somewhere, you know now that he pretty-pleased and charmed his way to the registrar for him to take korean as an elective

...

two weeks later, jin sits next to you in class 

in ACTUAL non-elective, non-native language he already speaks class

now that you’re squinting a bit more, jin does look a little uh?? different

his hair that was once a hybrid of lavender and peach and pink and then blonde was now wholly black and it’s probably his original hair color because it matches with those eyebrows of his!!!

his combo of a black bomber jacket with a silk button-up underneath honestly SLAPS and it makes you forget how he used to exclusively wear only knitted shirts and argyle-patterned cardigans

you have ur jaw dropped because you totally would’ve fallen for seokjin jAW-FIRST 

— if only he didn’t strike you as the brother type when he smacked the back of your head because you were falling asleep on class again and uhhh you mUst be forgetting that the two of you were sitting in front

you had no time to reevaluate whether you should develop a crush for him or not 

he’s immediately slapping his hands on his knees, looking at you so intensely before pointing a finger at you with so much conviction, and then scoffing to himself

“switched majors to film. theatre was gonna be the death of me!!! y/n, if you even think about trying to switch to that cheap, amazon-ordered quill and tanning lights for stage lighting major, you’re absolutely dEAD to me-”

you’ve never had a conversation this striking nor long with jin but you genuinely have no complaints at all

seokjin talks pure shit about theatre and theatre junkies and everything in between for the WHOLE day 

trails beside you for every single class you had, which was convenient because he can then sweet-talk his way again (if anybody even dared to question him) that he’s just newly-switched 

sat with you for lunch and him not eating because he just needS to tell you all about it and you trying not to choke on your pasta as you try to reply to him

followed you back hOME and decided to crash the night there

yeah, that. your unfondness for theatre’s rooted on that one

uh-huh safe to say that you’ve become best friends with jin ever since that day

you’re a sponge for your friends and jin’s the closest one you have, so it was only natural that you soak up his distastes and whatnot

not to brag but aha :D

you add salt to the water while you boil pasta so u may be a little bit of a masterchef or somewhat, no big deal :D

he’s absorbed your fascination for all kinds of lights and fixtures that he has about seven different nightlights in the form of squishies or neon and everything else on his bedside table, in which he turns all of them on at night

fun fact: he’s capable of sleeping in the dark

jin’s the whole reason for your stance on this

he’s adamant about his points and you’ve graduated uni four years ago!!!

which is why you DON’T get why jin would give you a scented black envelope, with “don’t come to this” scribbled in gold at the front, carrying a single ticket to this play with a sticky note saying “don’t watch this at 7 pm, wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes, sitting at the ninth row from the back and two seats from your right.”

because of course!! what the hell did he expect you to do? NOT come to this play at 7 pm wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes then sitting at the ninth row from the back, two seats from the right???

OF COURSE YOU WOULD

your goal in life is to do exactly the opposite of what jin tells you. there’s literally nothing else in life you’d want to fulfill

he’s made it quite easy for you to spite him and although you wouldn’t admit it.,,.,., you may be a little petty ok

he’s the even bigger goof out of the two of you and you can never have the final say!! it’s always him and his wit and yOU being the dunce

it’s a lil sus that jin’s basically ASKING for it with his instructions but whatever

whatever it is, this is finally your chance to enact the final say and you’re gonna pull ALL the stops

all you know about theater-goers is that they dress fancy and wear these mini binoculars and that’s about it

there’s not even one film you know that you see anyone in the audience wearing a worn-in cardigan or even a puffer jacket even if the theater’s mad cold

all the people bring are scarves and shawls???? thee thinnest version of a blanket that won’t warm them up against the frigid airconditioning

that whole dress code sounds ridiculous!!! great please ring out this thousand-dollar dress im gonna wear to the theater thank u

you’re a little worried that you’re not gonna blend into the crowd, but after some digging about the invitation, formal wear is most definitely recommended

it’s an exclusive invite-only play which would be later released to the general public later on so yeah the situation dOES call for a gown thank u very much

also how could you forget that jin explicitly told you not to wear this type of attire

if you’re being humble right now, which you always normally are, even if that jUST sounded boastful talking about how you’re humble all the time —

you do look pretty breath-taking :-)

even when the doors weren’t opened and everyone’s just collectively loitering outside the hall, you’d feel glances at you

the sweet security guard did a double-take at you and mumbled a “very very nice evening to you, miss :D” instead of his normal “enjoy the show!” to the other patrons before you

you’re gonna soak all the silent compliments up and try to remember all of them before writing them on your journal later hee-hee

your midnight blue satin dress that’s floor-length and off-shoulder is dEFINITELY in your favor :D

your dress still glimmers even if the spotlight isn’t on you and you wish you weren’t shy to ask a random stranger to take a picture of you

going on self-timer isn’t ideal either when there’s like a hundred other people in the room

they probably wouldn’t even care if you took a picture of yourself!!! but in your head they probably think that you’re laughable so you’d rather not.. do that

the theater’s dark as hell if that wasn’t established

it is literally pitch black in the room and the ushers at each row holding the flashlights that are meant to guide the patrons aren’t exactly helpful

big kudos to them though,, must take a lot of self-control to not wave their lights like it was a rave :D

a flashlight tHAT bright?? whew pls is this what ships feel in the night

the last time you were in a rave, your thirty minutes of fun was cut short when seokjin immediately got hammered and wouldn’t stop throwing a fit if you didn’t drive him home that instant

his energy seemed to compelling everyone that he’s managed to somehow suck the energy out of a WHOLE rave so you took him home for everyone’s enjoyment :(((( except yours apparently

you’re trying hard to focus on the play that’s happening because for the past twenty minutes, all you’ve done is zone out randomly with ideas all of a sudden 

you NEED to listen

....

uh-huh...

UH-HUH......

wait this is actually.. good

you find plays hard to follow and absolutely boring when you don’t immerse yourself in a run-down PRIOR to watching it in order to get

it’s the same analogy as reading the plot of a movie on wikipedia before watching the movie at the cinema.... absolutely useless

it sucks out the fun from something you weren’t supposed to know

watching plays is two hours of you being confused, going home to read the plot and only understand it by tHEN, and never coming to the theater again because you’d waste your money.... watching something cluelessly in the theater..... for a plot you’d grasp at home

but no

because this one

actually this one that you’re watching...

it’s not bad

it’s nice, actually.

within two minutes, you managed to grasp that it’s a story about a never-ending spring between these two lovers

there’s something about the whole setting of it actually that just sucks you in

in some plays, the outfits would seem so forced even in the given context that it reminds you of uh a particular superhero movie

and yes ur aware that stage makeup has to be enhanced so that people all the way to the back row would see

but there’s just something in this scene that’s laid out right-now that actually gets you in awe

it’s of the couple in the back of their pick-up truck and everything about it seems so natural

the background straight up looks like what it’d be if you were to go outside

the guy’s arm around her shoulder seems so natural and in nature that it doesn’t feel like a random cue in the script

the girl twinkles and it doesn’t even feel like a forced type of laugh you’d cue in attempt to warm the audience’s hearts

it’s of a plot where the the guy eventually falls out of love with the girl, while girl gets even more smitten with the guy at the same time

it’s what you take from the past ten minutes that you watch in dead silence, and you don’t even remember in the back of your head that you’re supposed to hate plays

“no way.”

you mumble in disbelief under your breath, head shaking profusely

is your mind playing tricks on you???

you’ve got too used to seokjin sitting beside you that you immediately turn to your right, whispering out your concerns 

“is it just me or is she wearing a different shade of pink?”

you don’t even buffer for one second when you ask the stranger beside you

you’re so concerned that you’re looking at him intently while waiting for his answer that could either console or despair you, a random theater-goer that’s too noisy with her questions for her own good

it’s absolutely dARK as fuck in the theater but after awhile your eyes adjusted slightly

and the first thing you look at after the stage is him

him as in the dude in your right that you just asked all of a sudden

you could only see his silhouette and the faintest features of his face along with his well-dressed suit but god

... you are totally not lying if you say that even the barest silhouette of him doesn’t look handsome

you’re expecting him to tell you off for being so noisy but instead, he’s the one who takes you by surprise

“how did you notice that?” 

:O

“oh my god!” you exclaim almost too loudly that you yourself even jolts, the guy even making you duck with him slightly for a brief second, “im sO sorry!! am i accidentally spoiling it out for you?”

the guy blinks twice, lips slightly parted before shaking his head no

“no, no... this is the first screening — i mean uh, how would you know that?”

oh boy

you’re adjusting yourself on your seat, bum now warm as you try to explain and not be nervous because what if you just made a wrong assumption about this play and you’re sitting next to a goddamn tHEATRE BUFF???

“well i —uh, uhm what’s your name?” you’re flustered and the FIRST thing you ask is what was his name.,.,,

he seems equally as flustered before he adjusts his glasses, “o-oh uhm i’m namjoon...?”

alright! handsome guy is namjoon!

“you see, namjoon — okay it might just be in my head, but i tHINK it looks deeper with the light somehow. but uh...? the spotlight’s not following her and — is it just me or without the light, her sweater looks brown?”

you’re squinting and if u squint even more, maybe your contacts would just crumple by then

hold on a second

“brown, like — oh my gOD LIKE-”

namjoon puts a hand over his mouth before you could even gasp, hand reaching out for your forearm even before you manage to grasp his shoulder to take it in realization

was it under your nose the whole time??

“... fall.”

:D

holy fucking shit

namjoon looks positively euphoric looking at your face of realization, his once-heavy chest about the whole scene becoming completely devoid of weight

“exactly!!”

his confirmation makes you inwardly squeal, grinning as you point at him and the stage back and forth

“i think this is the first play i’ve become ever interested in watching.”

okay what now

his ears perk up at that, your first sentence that you’ve said after your pink sweater that looks like spring also looks brown like fall in certain scene because of the lighting realization

“it is?”

he takes the chance to look at you as best as he could, trying to play his squinting as cool as he can

namjoon’s far sighted and the glasses he’s wearing are nOT up to date with his current grade bc he’s pretty sure his eyesight’s worsened the past month

he can’t make you out wholly, but he does know that you’re pretty

his eyes don’t linger on you because of the snacks you’re fishing from your purse while you talk that are absolutely illegal in this theater house lmao

but instead, his gaze lingers on you because you’re so pretty

the minimal light that’s bouncing off the stage is enough for him to see a faint outline of your features, highlighting your smiles just right and your dress to glint underneath

“mhmm. i actually hate plays,” suddenly, you’re not scared if namjoon happens to be some sort of theatre buff and you’re offending him because honestly, you feel at ease. “crunch?” you’re holding out the mini bar of chocolate out to him, one he politely declines to because his eyes are bulging out the next second

“you do????”

his genuine reaction indulges you, making you grin ultimately that you put off eating snacks for now to focus on him

“yeah! this is my hate outfit :D”

namjoon giggles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard

you automatically scoot closer because this time, it’s yOUR turn to shush him

this is totally for just the reason of talking more discreetly and not distracting anyone and is totally not an excuse to be closer to the next guy and touch shoulders with him then get a whiff of cologne because it’s rare for a guy to be handsome and aLSO smell good

your eyes get used to the darkness and eventually, you could make out features of namjoon beside you

he has the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen

and the way he looks at you makes you feel safe and even your height difference is visible with how probably lonG his torso is compared to yours, his gaze doesn’t make you feel small

namjoon’s still (unsurprisingly) far-sighted and ur so close that he’s a lil cross-eyed 

fuck it he’s gonna go to ophthalmologist FIRST thing in the morning tomorrow

“then why are you here?”

“my friend seokjin,” you lean back upon realizing the original reason why you’re here, the situation being so ironic that you puff out a smile

your friend’s named seokjin?

cool :D kim seokjin is namjoon’s of his favorite directors eVER!!

second best for him actually though.,., no one could quite compare to his first

your explanation makes him cackle several times, a swell of pride recounting why you hate (it’ll be past tense probably after this one) theatre 

“what about you?”

you turn the question to him, making his dimples disappear effectively that you think you’ve just spooked him

“i uh, well i always wanted to see a story that went like this, so i’m here.”

“you’re a critic? oh god. please don’t tell me you heard all my mumbles.”

no this is even WORSE

namjoon’s not a theatre buff

HE’S A CRITIC????????????

god im coming up

“don’t worry, i also think that the drapings must probably be dirty.”

he breaks out into a smile recounting how you were talking to yourself earlier, a snort escaping him involuntarily 

“RIGHT??? it’s like how do you even clean them?? do they fit in washing machines or-”

my god he’s such a nice guy!!!

in fact, he’s everything you want in a guy

you’ve went through atleast twelve facets of emotions for the past hour and you’re not even dating!!!!!!!

“my thoughts exactly!! and if it’s by hand, how do you even scrub the entirety of it?? or wring the water out??”

namjoon KNOWS exactly what’s up :’)

“is there even a clothesline that’d bEAR the weight??”

the two of you are so happy that you just look at each other laughing, a moment in time before namjoon nudges you to lean back because the ending’s happening

you don’t even question him how he’d know that it’s the ending and not just another opening to a new scene, just listening to him

you’re so happy

the play made you happy but namjoon made you even happier :-)

“if you are a critic, you should probably open up your review with this chatty play-hating girl beside you, then at the end, close it off with how she loves it.”

it’s the parting conversation as you realize and holy fuck you are nOT ready for it

you r gonna drag this out for as long as you could <3

......

and namjoon wants in too <3

“noted. if i was a playwright, i’d even make you the lead. which detail should i include? offering me wrapper-covered rice crispy snacks, or asking how you’d watch it while going thru the bathroom?”

this feels so natural

as natural as the couple in the play you’ve just finished watching :))

“you’re hilarious,” you’re not even the slightest bit annoyed and your restrained smile tells him all about it

yea you may have brought in snacks illegally but you aRE gathering your trash up as you’re a decent human being

namjoon wishes you’d pick up after yourself slowly, standing up from his seat as he has the plan of picking up trash that isn’t even his

“what name should i put then?”

you’re silent and oh god he thinks you found his company stupid and would definitely not give him your name

you’re not ignoring him though!!!

his words are still stuck in your head, realizing it lately with his “which detail should i include?”

“me wanting to turn this into a film, actually.”

you test the words out on your tongue, nodding to yourself after a few seconds that you seem so sure of it

“yeah. i wanna make it into a film.”

the lights turn on after being dim for so long, namjoon’s eyes going wide trying to digest what you’ve just said

“w-what?

.....

no fucking way

HOLY FUCKING SHIT SWFRWFBWRHGBRBVWRV SWBHJSDB SHJAVBHGJDS BWHRGHBSVWBGRH

namjoon’s malfunctioning as he’s looking at you from eye to eye, bottom lip trembling while he’s so keen at pointing at you

“y-you’re miss y/n!!”

....

right

oH RIGHT

he’s a fan of yours??

namjoon’s fanning his face because he’s about to literally burst into tears

how could he nOT???

how could he not be emotional when all along, he’s been talking to his number one favorite director????

you and your films are the absolute gems of his life namjoon’s not even kidding

your films were world-renowned for being so natural and sentimental without loading too much into it!!!! you’re known for being so humble through the multiple back-to-back awards and praise you get!!!! 

he cannot calm the fUCK down when you’re rubbing circles on his back

“you w-want to turn my play into a film?”

oh my gOD

you’re fumbling for the envelope and it’s only nOW that you realize that it’s not from seokjin in the first place

spring day a play by kim namjoon an invite for director y/n y/l/n

“it’s you!!!!”

“no it’s YOU!!”

jin’s plan worked alright :D

he’s just FOUR rows behind you lmao

it was just two weeks ago when yoongi, the executive producer of his film that he was directing, let it slip that he was co-financing a play

he met yoongi some semesters later after he became close with you, and he’s aLSO converted yoongi into hating theatre then he fit right in to your little posse of theatre kid-hating film students

that gave jin the laugh of his laugh and yoongi was not joking at all

“no, no. i’m telling you man. it’s different! i even have the script that i’ll let you read.”

and holy shit it IS different

if you see a couple tears on the last seven pages of yoongi’s copy of spring day’s script then mind yo oWN fucking business

then two weeks later, here he is :D

jin managed to also convert you to love theatre even IF it is namjoon’s play that did all the work

( also coincidentally found you a future boyfriend because he’s tired of seeing you alone and the closest you’d get to having someone is projecting your yearning into writing the scripts for the films you’d make )

he’s also secretly co-financed the whole play along with yoongi and he’ll drop that bomb later on lmao

“and that must mean i looked like a total FOOL beside you oh my god im so sorry!!”

namjoon panics at that, about to cry when another realization hits him when he’s about to put his head on his hands

“then that means the friend who gave you the ticket was-”

SEOKJIN VBFHSBVHSFBVSFHDVBSJFV SFJVJSFVSJVSSV SSV V FS FSV SFBVRBVRSVSWVGU

he cries to your shoulder and you never expected to be hugging and consoling someone you’ve just met two hours ago, a more than fond smile on your face he takes advantage of when he sneaks in the chance to ask you

“do you mean that?”

“now why would i lie to the playwright who’s been listening to me talk shit, then theorizing, then crying for the past hour?”

it’s true though

namjoon’s seen it all

he’s still handsome as ever even when he sniffles, his dimples on display when you return his question

“now did you mean it? writing me into your play?”

why are you even ASKING

:D

he’s the biggest fan of u

namjoon’s made notes of your work, dedicated scripts to your movies, and he’s thinking about how it’s not yet hitting you how your whole epiphany about the pink sweater turning brown on his play,,, was entirely inspired from you and your affinity for lighting in your films

he thinks it’s still a little early to kiss you on the cheek even if you’ve already hugged, instead settling on pinching your cheek with satisfaction present in all corners

“you’ve always been my muse.”

[voltagesmutter]

I can be a bad-boy

Summer Of Smut Writing Challenge,

Prompt #12: In the car alone at the outdoor movie theater

Pairing: Kiro x MC

Word Count: 3000+

@voltage-vixen​​

*References to Kiro/Helios*

“Kiro put them down!” You hiss in a quiet but stern tone, watching as your boyfriend pouted, his eyes glistening with shimmering gold, “Don’t even try pulling the charm on me mister!”. You playfully tug his cheek as he lets out a little giggle, putting back the bag of candy on the shelf. 

“But there my favourite Miss.Chips” He whined, sticking his bottom lip out making an over-exaggerated face of sadness.

“You’ve said that about every item in the basket,” You shake your head slightly, eyes falling to the basket rammed with various treats and goodies.

“You're turning into Savin,” He huffs, adjusting the glasses on his face, using his index finger to push them up. His disguise to let you go to the store together was positively adorable, an oversized hoodie, some trackie bottoms, overly large spectacles and a baseball cap. 

“If I was Savin I wouldn’t have even brought you to the store!” It being your turn to pout, hating it when he referred you to being the same as his overly-strict manager. You scan the shelves for one final item, sighing as you hear Kiro sneaking more items into the basket, why did you agree to bring him here? Rounding everything up you brought the basket to the till, the cashier too busy scanning the vast amount of items to recognise Kiro, your jaw almost dropped at the price.

“$20? Kir-I mean Luca!” You hissed, stopping yourself from calling out his name as he handed over a note to the lady. How did the $5 limit get thrown out the window so quickly, leaving the shop with four bags of chocolate, sweets and crisps. 

“Here, something sweet for my something sweet,” He chuckled, diving into the bag and handing you one of your favourite pieces of candy. 

“Savin’s going to kill me,” You sighed as you walked back to your apartment hand in hand. 

---

The stash of treats were for a reason, Kiro was taking you to the out-door theatre, the ones where you watched the movie from your car. A new movie he was in had just been released and he promised to watch it with you, just you. As much as you love attending the red-carpet premieres with him, it wasn’t the same experience as snuggling up to him and watching a movie together at your own leisurely pace. Instead you had to be on top form, answer questions from reporters and spend most the night separated from your lover. It was exhausting. So this time Kiro promised to bring you to the movie in your own time and when you saw it was playing at the out-door theatre, he lept on the chance to take you. 

“Sorry we’re late Miss.Chips,” He continued to apologise, pulling up in the last free space available. It was furthest away from the screen, allocated at the park of the parking-lot in a secluded corner, a hefty distance between your and the other vehicles. 

“Kiro it’s fine!” You reassured him for the nth time since pulling up, it didn’t bother you one bit being so far away. In all honesty you preferred the privacy, especially since neither Kiro and you were in a disguise, the blacked out tint of windows would be enough cover to stop anyone from witnessing you in the car. You adjusted the radio to the setting on the movie, the sound of the opening credits flooded the car.

The warmth of a hand placed on your thigh, tottering on the edge of your dress and skin, giving you a gentle squeeze as your eyes focused on the big-screen. You watched as Kiro came onto the screen, silver haired with a black tattoo on his arm, the role he was portraying was a devious bad boy named ‘Helios’. 

“Ooh you're such a bad boy,” You teased, repeating back a line to him from the movie, catching the subtle blush on his cheeks. 

“It was… definitely a different role to say the least,” He laughed, his laugh purer than snow sent your heart melting. It was a conflicting feeling watching your boyfriend play such a bad-ass, I don’t give a fuck role when he sat next to you in a hoodie with a puppy on the front scoffing a bag of chips. Your jaw dropped slightly, a gasp coming from your mouth as Helios walked across the screen, danger glinting in his eyes as he pushed the female actress to the wall. A hand lightly held her neck as he darkly chuckled, pushing his face close to hers whispering dangerous words before pulling back and releasing her from his hold. Slightly excitement coursed through your veins seeing such a different side to Kiro, arousal pitting in the bottom of your stomach. 

“Miss.Chips? Are you okay? Your face is going red?” Kiro’s words pull your attention from the screen. You brushed it off playfully and nodded, claiming it was hot in the car even though the fan’s were blasting cool air. Kiro let you be, grabbing another bag of candy and unwrapping it before sucking on the sweet. Your eyes followed his movement, how could someone this sweet play such a role so well? It was almost as if he had embodied a whole new personality, a side that would only live in memory on the screen. The arousal within you stirred more as Kiro continued his portrayal of Helios on the screen, thighs rubbing together slightly to try ease from the friction you felt. 

“Miss.Chips why are you giggling?” He pouted, watching fits of laughter from your throat, tears almost brimming in your ears as you clutched a hand over your stomach. The scene on the screen was far from a funny one, an intense ballad of power as Helios was threatening a group of men on the screen.

“I’m sorry.. I’m sorry,” You couldn’t help but burst out laughing again, “It’s just seeing you so… dangerous and your sat here next to me cooing over what to eat next, it's just really got to me,”. The words came in between fits of laughter, not catching the brooding gaze of Kiro next to you. He mumbled something under his breath as you finally began to calm down, re-focusing on the movie. Silence took its toll between you, the only noise coming filling in the air was the sound of the movie. 

“You're really good, you know that,” You place a hand in his lap and give his hand a squeeze, “It’s so different for me to see such a different side of you, you did such an amazing job,”. 

“Do you not think I could be like Helios?” He questioned, turning to face you, a glimmer of mischief in his blue eyes. 

“You? No, Kiro, you cried when you saw a puppy miss a ball it’s owner threw,” You laughed. He let it drop, turning back to watch the final scenes of the film, moving his hand off your thigh. A slight twinge of pain came across you, had your words upset him? Kiro was nothing like Helios, Kiro was sweet, kind and gentle. Helios was… a beast, a reckoning force not to be toyed with. 

“Kiro, I’m sorry if-” You started, turning again to face him but you felt a force push you up against the window, Kiro’s face dangerously close to yours, a hand snaking up your thigh and disappearing under your dress.

“My Miss.Chips doubts me it seems,” Heat rising in your cheeks as his eyes flicked from blue to gold to grey, taking your bottom lip in his teeth and giving it a light bite. A moan fell as his fingers grazed your thighs, tottering on the edge of your cotton underwear. A wave of excitement rushed over you, Kiro was also so sweet with his kisses and public affections towards you, never going future than to kiss your cheek or hold your hand in public. Yet here he was devouring your lips with bites, running his tongue over your slightly swelling lip in the theatre car-park. “It appears my Miss.Chips rather enjoys a darker side,” He hummed with a raspy voice, fingers pressing over the dampness of your underwear, a finger dipping below to trace your wetting folds.

“K-Kiro!” You moaned into his mouth, shocked at his sudden flick of attitude, slightly embarrassed at the pooling wetness growing between your thighs. His tongue slipped into your mouth, silencing your slight protests as his finger teased over your budding clit, the dominance of his tongue coaxing over yours. Just as you began to part your legs future, a silent invitation for him to delve deeper, he pulled away leaving you breathless and weak at the knees.

“Movies finished Miss.Chips,” Pulling away and flashing you his trademark sweet smile, acting as if nothing had just happened, leaving you panting slightly as you adjusted yourself in the chair. 

---

The ride home was as if nothing happened, Kiro chatting about how much he enjoyed the role and asking you what you thought. You indulged in the conversation, although finding it hard to speak at times, Kiro’s previous actions had left your mind spinning. 

“You go to bed, I just need to make some calls to Savin and I’ll join you, okay Miss.Chips?” The blonde idol pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek as he left your bedroom. You peeled off your clothes and threw on one of Kiro’s oversized t-shirts, letting the smell of him embrace your body and you climbed under the sheets. It wasn’t long before your beloved returned, standing in the door frame, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame. Your eyes widened as you sat up, the air within your lungs disappeared, in front of you stood Kiro as Helios. His silver hair glinted from the glow of the light behind him, a black tank top with a leather collar around his neck tucked into black jeans, the same tattoo from the movie wrapped around his right arm. 

“Kiro…” You sat up on your knees, the pit of arousal inside you was set a blaze once more. 

“Kiro isn’t here right now,” He smirked, his voice dropping a few octaves to leave a husky tone as he stepped towards you. You crawled to the edge of the bed and sat back on your heels, he brought his fingerless gloved palm to your cheek and roughly rubbed his thumb over your lips, “Only Helios”. If you still had underwear one, they would definitely be bunched up on the floor from the sexy tone that left his voice. His hand moved down to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it and tugging you up higher onto your knees so you was level with his chest. Leaving down, his eyes lost of blue as steel-grey took over, forcefully pressing his lips against yours like he had done so in the parking lot, teeth biting and sucking over your puffing lip. His other hand came down to grope your breasts over the thin material of your t-shirt, giving your nipples a pinch as they hardened beneath the material, a careless rough touch that sent wetness spreading across your thighs. His tongue forced entry to run along your bottom teeth before he released his grip over your neck, pulling away and letting you drop back to the bottom of the bed. 

His steel-eyes burrowed into yours, a smirk grimacing as primeval desire as his hands until his belt in a teasing manner, the unbuckling of metal sent tingles of excitement down your spine. Your eyes came to glance on the harsh bulge in front of your eyes, soon to be met by the lengthy erection that sprung free, his gloved hand wrapping around it with a hiss from his mouth.

“Stop watching and get those pretty lips wrapped around my cock,” His hand released himself as he placed it on the back of your head, tugging you forward as he threaded his fingers through your hair. Lips parted and gracelessly you took his length into your mouth, lips wrapping around his head before he thrusted, the rest of his length being pulled into the wet cavern on your mouth. His fingers in your hair gripped down slightly, pulling you future against him until he was fully hilted inside your mouth, a heavy groan of acceptance rumbled from his chest. You brought a hand up to wrap around his base but the gloved digits smacked it away, “Mouth only” he growled. Your hands gripped to his out-thighs in search of some support, thrusting faster and pushing your head forward against him, his steel eyes dilated heavily with lust as he watched you gag partly over his thickness. Bopping your head in-time to his hands that guided you, salvia that pooled over his length began to drool from the edge of your lips as he continued to plunge into your mouth. Tongue running along the under-side of the throbbing vein, a twitch of his cock was a recognisable sign regardless of being Kiro or not, he was close. Just as you braced to accept the warmth that would spurt against the back of your throat, he pulled out of your mouth, a hand wrapping around him to pump himself, “Tongue out,” followed in a husky voice. His hand pumped himself as the other held the gripped the back of your head, leaving your flushed, saliva dripping lips at the perfect angle. Following his orders you stuck your tongue out, flicking it over his head as he tried to hold back a strangled groan in his chest, the noise shooting straight to your core as he released, spurting over your lips and tongue with his hot seed. Gracefully your lick off his release with your tongue, making a lewd pop as you smacked your lips together, swallowing his plentiful release. 

The next few seconds were a blur as he released you from his hold, flipping you over on the bed so you lay on your stomach, holding your waist and pulling it up as he held your ass high. He pushed down the material of your shirt so it was bunched over your highs, the trace of his digits as he pushed them over your dripping folds. 

“My naughty girl, look at how wet you are,” The smirk in his voice as he pushed two digits inside your core, the air forcefully leaving your lungs with a heavy cry. Thrusting and twisting his digits inside you, the wetness of your juices trailing past his knuckles and onto the leather hand-glove, pure lust coating through your veins as you indulge in the pleasure you were receiving. 

“K-Kiro! C-Close~" You managed through moans, as he added another finger, the cold steel of his ring entering inside your warm tightness as he pumped into you. As your walls began to tighten, teetering on the edge before he pulled his fingers from you, sleek wetness dripping from his fingers as you let out an infuriated groan. So close, yet so far… 

“Kiro isn’t here,” A harsh slap to your ass sent vibrations across your body, a slight buzz of pain and pleasure from the leather that collided with your skin, “Only Helios,”.  You waited in anticipated breath as another below came to your ass, a few following, leaving the red print of a hand on your skin. The build up too much, the bubbling inside you ran through your veins like hot lava, desperate seeking to be filled without this sweet torture.

“Fuck me already,” You cried, pushing your ass back in a needed attempt to angle yourself against his re-hardened member. 

“But Miss.Chips, you seem to be enjoying this far too much,” His finger returning to graze across your slickened core in a teasing manner.

“Helios please,”.

It came out in a high whine of plea than you hoped, but at this point you was too turned on and care. Slight shuffling behind, hands firmly on your waist as he aligned himself to thrust into you. Head thrown back, back arched your still clothed breasts pressed into the bed, a cry from your mouth that would reach the high heavens and make angels blush as he fucked you with raw intensity. Not even his touch resemble anything of his true form, as if the role of Helios had taken over his body. Gone were sweet words, subtle and loving thrusts, high-pitch songs of groans, instead replacing them harsh sharp thrusts, deep groans that caught in his throat and an intense drive that pounded you into the bed below. Your orgasm took meer minutes to hit, wonton moans that ringed through the air and seeped into the walls of your neighbours, fingers clutching to anything in their path as your body pulsed from the pleasure within. Him follows suit seconds later with a final snap of his hips, heat shooting in ropey lengths inside you as he twitched from your withering walls. 

Your sweaty body stuck to the sheets below, vision blurry for a few moments until you finally regained yourself with panting breaths. Kiro sat beside you, pulling your head into his lap as he stroked your hair, whispering soothing words to you. 

“I told you I could be like Helios,” He teased, earning a faint chuckle from you but you was too exhausted to even think at this point in time, letting the sweet words of song lull you to sleep. 

“Sleep well Miss.Chips,” He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead as he rested your head onto the pillow, your body almost unconscious from the deep realm of pleasure. Kiro wandered off to the bathroom, watching in the mirror as his hair changed from silver to his sunshine blonde, the iced-grey eyes sparkling back to his blue. A warm smile on his face knowing he could let Helios come out and play more often. 

[simply-trash5]

PuppetBoy

Okay Kankuro simps, got some more juice for ya! Seriously this was so fun to write. It is a college AU about Kankuro and a reader. I am pretty proud of it. I would love to write some things for you so PLEASE request. Seriously. I’ll even try smut (I’ve never written it before so we’ll see how it goes). Drop them in the ask box and if you like what you read you should totally tell me because i am a self conscious bean.

What the hell is that noise? You think to yourself as you look around. It sounded terrible. Whatever car was making that noise was definitely on it’s last leg. You nod your head realizing it was the same guy you see everyday parked across from the education building at your college. You could hear loud metal playing from the speakers and the windows shaking as he pulled into the lot. He jumped out,slammed the door and gave the tire a swift kick. Wow he’s kinda cute. He stood almost 6 ft. tall and had on a black hoodie that hung lightly over his brown hair. His black jeans had rips in the knees and you could see he was wearing scuffed black DocMartens. You continued to follow him with your eyes as he passed you walking toward the theatre building. He had an eyebrow ring and gauges. Oh shit, I think he caught me staring. He looked at you, scoffed and kept walking toward the theatre building. Is he a theatre major? You wondered to yourself. Maybe he just has to take a fine art credit. Letting your thoughts wander you pulled the straps on your bookbag tighter and walked to your class in the education building. 

The class seemed to drag on forever, and you knew after that you had to go to your nannying job which would take up most of the evening. You wished that you didn’t have to have a job, but unfortunately scholarships didn’t cover all of your tuition. You grabbed your keys from your pocket and headed toward the parking lot. Climbing into your car you started the engine and began making your way to your job. You loved kids, so nannying was a great gig for you. When you arrived at the home of a doctor in your area you were greeted by a small boy with a large grin. “Ms. Y/N, can we go to the children’s theater today? Mom said we could go if it was okay with you, she even left my booster seat so you can drive!” You giggled and shrunk down to his height. “Well if your mom says it's okay, it's fine by me. Let’s grab your jacket and booster seat and we will leave.” The small child ran into the house. His mother approached you. “Thank you so much for watching Trevor,I know he is a handful but i'm rather fond of him.” You gave her a huge smile and told her that it was no problem and explained that you were going to take him to the children's theatre. She said her goodbyes and you walked into the house to retrieve the boys booster seat so that you all could make the 4:00 production of the Three Little Pigs. 

The little boy sitting in front of you on the floor giggled wildly as a wolf puppet “ran” off stage. You smiled down at him. The curtains closed and the crowd gave them a round of applause. The stage hands and puppeteers began to disassemble the set so that they could get ready for the next show when you saw a familiar face. It's car boy. You smiled in his direction, and didn’t realize you may have looked at him a little too long. “Hey, take a picture, it will last longer.” The mysterious boy gave you an annoyed look and a blush began to creep up your face. He was wearing a tight black tshirt that showed off his muscular arms and his tattoo of a sandtimer on his forearm. “Come on Trevor, lets head home,” you said steering the young boy out of the theatre.

“Oh my god what did you say back?” your friend was screeching on the other side of the phone. “Well, see, I just kinda left.” you explained not wanting to relive the embarrassing moment. “Y/N, you have got to do something tomorrow. You’re going to see him in the parking lot and you don’t want it to be weird.” You were twirling your hair around your finger staring at your phone. “Y/N are you still there?” You snapped back to reality, “yeah, I think I will buy him a cup of coffee. I’m sure he never sleeps like the rest of us. He is a college student.” You both finished your conversation and you got ready for bed. You set your alarm early so that you could go to a coffee shop and grab him a coffee to make up for the awkward run-ins you had the last few days. 

“God its early” you whined to yourself but got ready anyway. You had to make a better impression on puppet boy. You gathered your things and headed out the door and made your way to a local coffee shop. You grabbed your latte and then decided it was best to just give him black coffee. You drove to your college thinking about the handsome stranger all the way there. His brown hair was shaggy and fell right into his eyes, which you melted at the thought of his hair being pushed out of his face. Your mind started to drift to what your next move would be as you pulled into the parking lot. Okay, it's 7:45 he should be here any minute. Shit what should I do? In a moment of extreme confidence you grabbed a pen out of your backpack and messily scribbled your phone number on the side of the paper cup. God I hope this works. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. You could hear him coming for at least a mile. Alright Y/N you cannot chicken out now. He rolled in and slammed his car door as he had every morning for the earlier part of the semester. It's now or never, you've got this shit. You beelined toward his car. He realized you were approaching and looked at you with a strange face. You immediately got nervous. You just sat the coffee cup on the hood of his car, turned on your heel, and quickly walked to the education building. “HEY! HEY COME BACK!” You heard him calling after you as you continued on your way to class cursing yourself the entire time.

Buzz

You grabbed your phone from your pocket. An unknown number had sent you a text. “How do I know you didn’t drug this coffee so you can turn my corpse into a puppet?” you laughed at the text and a blush spread over your cheeks. “Now why would I do that?” you replied. You typed “Also that is oddly specific” “What can I say, I like puppets?” The conversation continued for the next few days. You saw him a few times on campus but you never spoke in person. He would send you funny memes and videos at all hours of the night. Apparently puppetboy is a night owl. “Um btw, we’ve been talking for days and I still don’t know your name. What should I call you.” “My name is Kankuro.” “Well Kankuro, my name is Y/N. Its nice to put a name with a face.”

Shit I’m never gonna finish this run. You thought to yourself as you continued to run on the treadmill. You had your headphones in and music blaring. You loved to run and hadn’t been to the gym in a few days due to all of your nannying obligations. Okay, only a half mile more to go, you thought to yourself as you pushed your body to keep running. Out of nowhere you felt a large calloused hand on your shoulder. You snapped your head “Hey listen creep I-” before you knew it you were falling only to be caught by Kankuro. “Y/N you falling for me already?” Kankuro flirted giving you a tight smirk. You were shocked, not only by the fall, but by the arms around you. They were strong and helped steady you with ease. He was wearing a dark grey tank top which showed his muscles and tattoo off wonderfully. His legs were muscular too and looked amazing in the black shorts he was wearing. In his other hand he had a pair of boxing gloves. You began to blush and he realized you were staring at him, imagining what he looked like under that tank top. Your hand crept up to your neck where you fiddled with your necklace. He gave you a small chuckle. “I’ve got to go spar with my buddy, but if you want to you can meet me out front in an hour.” You smiled and shook your head and he turned and walked away. The shorts hugged his bottom perfectly and the tank top showed his shoulder muscles. You could see another tattoo on his back. Was it puppet strings? You pursed your lips and began to blush. I would love to see those strings up close. 

The hour wait seemed like the longest hour of your life. You waited out in front of the gym as he came bounding out the door. He was sweating and his shaggy hair was sticking to his forehead. He walked over to his car and opened the door. It made a horrendous screech as it opened and you stifled a laugh. “Whats so funny princess? Just for that we gotta walk to get food.” You blushed. Did he just call me princess? Why was that so hot? “Come on, I’m starving,” he said and began walking down the sidewalk. You walked hurriedly to match his long strides. Damn my short legs. “So Kankuro, where are we going?” he gave you a crooked grin. “Its a surprise.” You giggled and retorted “well how do I know you’re not trying to get me alone and turn my corpse into a puppet?” He gave you a devilish grin, “Well sweetheart lets find out.” Another pet name. Your face turned bright red and you stared at the sidewalk. You approach a deli that you frequent with your friends. “I love this place,” you exclaimed. “Well don’t be weird and actually order some food. I like a girl with an appetite.” You laughed and smiled. You ordered your usual and he ordered grabbing your food and heading outside to a table. You both began eating and chatting casually about your lives. You found out he loves horror movies, especially ones that feature creepy dolls or puppets. You also learned that he has a lot of horror memorabilia in his apartment and that he rarely sleeps. He boxes to keep himself busy when hes not working as a children’s puppeteer. He is studying theatre with concentrations in stage management and special effects makeup. “Kankuro, thats really fucking cool,” you said and began to tell him about yourself. You were studying to be a teacher and nannying as a job to make money for college. You lived in an apartment around the corner from the deli with a friend. “So Kankuro I noticed the sand timer on your arm, do you have any other tattoos?” He gave you another devilish grin.”Yeah I have a back piece that is marionette strings. I’ve loved puppets since I was little so I thought it would be cool. Do you have any tattoos?” You blushed. You stood and pulled up your athletic top to show a tattoo of your family's crest on your hip. You had to pull your shorts down ever so slightly revealing your black lacy underwear. He looked at the tattoo and then back to your face. “Thats a nice one,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck. The conversation continued and you all talked more about your semester and your family. You laughed and told him about how you liked to run and also about how you thought it was cool he was a boxer. “Maybe one day we can spar angel,” he flashed a smile in your direction and you smiled back at the thought. You both got up from the table and threw your trash away. It was dark and cool. You pulled your jacked tighter around your shoulders. “I guess I am going to walk home and let you get back to the gym.” Kankuro shook his head “absolutely not doll, its dark and I’m walking you home.” You blushed. Another pet name, this boy is gonna be the death of me. 

You began walking toward your apartment and your hands brushed several times by accident. “Damn Y/N if you wanted to hold my hand that bad all you had to do was ask. I aim to please.” You blushed and then punched Kankuro. “Still want to spar?” you said cheekily. You both walked in silence but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if you had known him your whole life. The comfort of him walking beside you felt so nice. “Well this is my apartment.” You sighed and reached for the door. 

BAM

The door slammed shut and you noticed a strong arm beside your face. Kankuro looked down at your lips and smirked. You began to blush. The tension was so thick. I swear im going to pass out. Your heart began racing as he leaned into you. Your back was pressed against the glass of the door with a strong arm beside your head. His other hand made its way to your tattooed hip, he drew circles over your ink with his calloused thumb. His hands were so large that you could feel his fingertips on your back. The heat rose to your cheeks. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. He pulled back, his hand still burning a hole into your hip bone. You opened your eyes to see a smirked Kankuro. You were in shock when he reached his other hand to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face. Your thoughts raced, you wanted nothing more to bring him up to your apartment and let him give you that devilish grin some more. 

“Guess I’m not a killer princess. Text me.” He chuckled, turned on his heel and walked back toward the gym. You watched him until he walked out of sight. You were ready to see him again and maybe see more of that back tattoo.

[itstittycitybaby]

From the Ashes We are Born (Part two)

A/N: Just wanna say thank you so much for the notes and follows! I appreciate it a lot. I forget how broken tumblr is until i have to post something with 1000+ words. Anyways enjoy lmao.

.

The cool and crisp sheets welcomed you in its arms once you woke up. They smelt of pine trees and lemon with a tinge of muskiness to it. A dull ache coursed through your head, causing you to curse. The light did no favours for your head either. You groaned; there was a bedside table with a few candles. A hint of vanilla wafted through the air as the flame flickered and danced. “Where the fuck am I?” You rubbed your eyes to wake yourself up even more before trying to escape wherever the fuck you had been taken to. A bandage was placed on the side of your head where that cop had struck you. Slinging one leg out you raised yourself out of bed, or tried to anyway. The sheets had wrapped itself around your legs and waist. Your left leg felt tingly and weak once you put your weight on it. “Oh fuck,” you yelped as you toppled onto the floor, smacking your nose in the process. A nice thudding sound followed at the impact. Great, now my kidnapper knows I'm definitely awake. It was nice living while it lasted, I guess. As if on cue hurried footsteps caught your attention. The sound traveled throughout the mysterious place and into the room you were currently in. As you tried to untangling your legs out of the cursed sheet, you noticed the mountains and mountains of books piled in the room. Several stacks were behind the bed and there were cases of them piled on the cold floor. 

Shaking your head out of your thoughts, you tried getting up again. However, your legs still refused to cooperate with you. The floor seemed to stare back at you mockingly as you caught yourself from kissing it. Huffing, you resorted to a military like crawl to get around. One arm forward, one leg forward, pull. Now, other arm… “I see you have awakened,” an amused voice said. There, stood your captor. V. You almost laughed at the pink frilly apron tied around his waist. Almost. You sent him a glare as he stood there, amused in the predicament you were in. “I didn’t notice. Where am I?” “My home. The Shadow Gallery,” V said as he extended his arm. “May I?” Sighing, you wrapped your fingers around his arm and let him pull you up. You clutched onto his arm tightly for support. Your knees started to shake and you prepared for them to buckle beneath you for the third goddamn time. “Oh great,” you huffed as you started to fall. You screwed your eyes shut, bracing for impact. It never came. Your eyes flew open and you stood there, confused. That’s when you realized what was supporting your waist. Who was supporting your waist. V’s arm had snaked around your waist and he pulled your side into him. He rested his mask atop your head, warmth radiating off of him. You could smell the musky scent of pine from the sheets as you inhaled. Cheeks singing with heat, you mumbled a “thanks.” “Of course, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself anymore,” he chuckled. You wanted to ignore the way his voice traveled down your spine and caused your belly to flutter.

“How long was I out for? I can’t really..walk.” “Yes I can see that,” he teased. “Roughly I’d say two days.”  Two days? Two fucking days?!  “How is your head,” V asked as he led you through the gallery. “Hurts,” you quipped, leaning on him for support. His arm was still wrapped around your waist. Not that you noticed. Several Statues and paintings filled the hall as he led you to..somewhere. You gaped in shock; famous paintings and sculptures that had been locked up were sitting here, in the Shadow Gallery. “Holy shit, V. These are..,” you guestered towards the contraband in front of you. “From the vaults of the Ministry of Objectionable Materials,” he finished for you. “How did you manage to steal them?” V chuckled, “Stealing implies ownership, you can’t steal from the censor, I merely reclaimed them.” You laughed, clever as always.

V led you to a small kitchen. A small table sat in the middle of it with the appliances behind it. Knick knacks and books filled the barren beige tiled walls. The Shadow Gallery had a homey feeling to it. Just looking at it made your heart warm. You sank into the chair V had sat you in. A couple books were open on the table along with a few newspapers strewn about. “TERRORIST DEAD!”, was one of the headlines of the paper. A picture of V’s masked face was printed, lying on the floor. You snickered. How stupid people had to be to believe that shit. “I apologize, I was going to tidy up before you woke.” You looked away from the clipping and smiled reassuringly. “It’s alright, V. Much cleaner than my apartment; there’s paint splattered everywhere and clothes around the floor.” “You enjoy painting?” His back was turned to you holding an egg. V cracked it somehow making cracking an egg elegant. It sizzled as it fell onto the pan. “Yea I do. I’m not the best but I love it. It helps me.” You watched V as he moved about the kitchen. 

His gracefulness never failed to astonish you. The spatula he was using caught the egg after he flipped it into the air. It made you smile as you watched him maneuver around the place. “Art is art. Whether or not the quality of it is excellent, it should speak what words cannot.” “Not sure you’d still say that once you looked at it,” you laughed. “I tend to make some weird things.” “I would like to see them one day, you have caught my interest,” V said, scooping the eggs on a plate. He placed a piece of toast on the plate and set it before you. That’s when you caught sight of his hands. They looked painful; they were an angry red and scars littered them. His hands looked incredibly rough and it looked like it hurt. Your heart hurt looking at them. “V,” you said softly, “are you okay?” His eyes caught the direction you were looking at. “Ah, excuse me.” He turned his back to you as he grabbed his gloves. The leather crinkled as he snapped them back on. “There, that’s better,” V said once he turned to you again, flexing his fingers as he held them in front of him. “Did you hurt your hands?” V didn’t say anything for a bit as he looked at his gloves. “Once, a long time ago. There was a fire. I’m fine now, thank you for your concern.”

The air felt tense between you two. V’s body language seemed uncomfortable at the mention of his hands, so you didn’t press any further. You dug into the egg in front of you;yolk poured out as you cut it. You hummed as you took a bite. “God, that’s good.” V chuckled, his shoulders relaxed once the topic of his skin was dropped. “Good,” he said, pouring tea into a cup. His hands were folded as he watched you munch on your toast. The taste of buttery goodness hit your tongue instantly. You looked at him shocked. “That’s...is that real butter?” “Yes, yes it is.” You stared at him, dumbfounded. “How did you..?” “A government supply train on its way to Chancellor Sutler.” Your brows shot up as you gaped at V. He said it so calmly like stealing from a dictator was a normal pastime. “You’re actually crazy. You stole..from Chancellor..Sutler..I..”

“I dare all that may become a man. Who dares more is none,” V quoted. Your brows furrowed  and your lips pulled into a frown at his words. What is he talking about? “I’m pretty sure I don’t understand that reference.” “Macbeth?” Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He probably thinks I’m an idiot. You shook your head and looked down at your food. “Not interested in the fine art of theatre?” You scarfed down your last bite of toast and egg, setting your fork down gently. If you weren’t starving you would be embarrassed of swallowing your food. V didn’t seem to mind anyways. 

“I enjoy seeing plays and things like that. I just never got the chance to read them.” You grabbed your plate and started to rise from your seat, but V stopped you. “I’ve got it Mademoiselle,” he said, grabbing your plate from your hands. “Thanks,” you replied, sitting back in your seat awkwardly. You twirled your thumbs to try and calm the butterflies in your stomach. You felt sick as you stood there. Would he be offended or embarrassed that you hadn’t studied theatre?  “I have a few of his works around the gallery, you’re more than welcome to read them if you’d like.” The sink spat out water. You watched V scrub your plate vigorously. You had to stop yourself from laughing as you realized he’d change his gloves again to rubber yellow ones. “I would, but it’s hard for me to understand what's going on. I probably sound stupid,” you muttered. V shook his head; his hair bouncing along with it. “Nonsense my dear; just because something is difficult does not make you stupid.” You snorted. V turned to you after putting your plate away. The look in your eyes looked faraway, and empty. Underlying it was sadness and a flicker of anger. “My dad would say differently. He was religious and batshit insane.” “What about your mother,” V asked, folding the kitchen towel and hanging it back on the stove. “Cancer took her. I don’t remember her at all.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” You shrugged, “Life moves on. What can you do.” V didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t know what to say. He had many skills, but comfort was one he lacked. You looked so bitter as you sat there, sipping your tea. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to read one of Macbeth’s plays to you,” V said gently. Surely, that would help take your mind off of things right? You grinned, ignoring the fluttering in your heart. A distraction was what you needed and V gave you just that. “Sure!”

[derireo]

They Wilt ‘Til They’re Forgotten ↦ Izumi

To think she'd see him again. It was a little funny how a decade had passed and he was acting like nothing was wrong.

The petals from the bouquet she held wilted beneath her grip and stuck to her clammy palms. She wanted nothing more but to punch him in the stomach and run back inside.

I'm not up to date with JP server so idk how accurate I am. Take the info from this fic like a grain of salt and just enjoy! (also, a little bit of self projection so be aware)

「 read here on ao3 」 「 2.7k words 」

She felt gutted having to see him again. After so many years trying to bring the company back from the ground, Izumi stopped anticipating for a visit. And just as things were getting better, he had to show up.

He stood at the stairs outside of the dorm with a few things in hand. A gift bag, a bouquet of flowers, and those little candies she used to love as a child.

Sakyo saw him first.

"...Yukio-san." He muttered under his breath as he looked out the balcony window to see a strangely familiar man standing outside. For some reason, his hands itched until they closed into fists, and all of a sudden his heart had filled with a questionable feeling of resentment.

"What are you doing here?" He tried to keep a respectful tone in his voice when he met up with the man, and those who saw Sakyo go down the stairs with a dark look on his face watched from the balcony.

Yukio Tachibana stood just a couple of metres away from him with a warm smile on his face. Sakyo almost scoffed at how similar Izumi still was to him.

"I came to visit. I heard the company was doing well and wanted to give my little Izumi a present."

Sakyo ignored the kind gesture. Ignored how that term of endearment for Izumi made his heart flare in annoyance. "Where did you come from."

"...Overseas."

"I see." He quipped, arms crossed over his chest in a menacing way that left Mister Tachibana bewildered. Sakyo was completely different from the kid he remembered all those years ago; and that glare definitely looked like it could kill.

"You've grown so much, Sakyo—"

"Leave the gifts on the ground and go on your merry way, please."

Yukio chuckled, waving his bouquet. "Ah, I was hoping to see Izumi—"

Sakyo pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry. She isn't home."

"No, I am." The deadpan tone cause Sakyo to whip around, and his heart dropped when he saw Izumi standing behind him with a pained look on her face.

The demeanour he once held before Yukio-san had vanished. Sakyo tried to usher the woman back inside with a quiet murmur of reassurance, but Izumi slipped out of his grip with ease and waved her hand at him.

Yukio's face lit up when he saw his daughter approach him, not at all minding how she glared at him the same way Sakyo did not too long ago. The bag in his hand rustled as he met up with her in the middle, and he held the gifts out for her to take.

"I'm home. I just wanted to visit and see how you were doing," he rambled excitedly as Izumi took the flowers from his hand, motioning for him to just lay the other gifts at her feet with a solemn expression, "Yuzo told me how the company was thriving again thanks to your hard work and—"

It was Izumi's turn to interrupt him. "That's enough." She held her hand up to get him to stop speaking, and the smile that made her lips twitch was... unsettling.

The men on the balcony watched, uneasy. Sakyo had disappeared and was probably on his way to join everyone else.

Yukio's own smile dropped and he rubbed the back of his neck; slowly catching on to the fact that he didn't seem to be welcome here.

"Izumi.. I'm sorry I left you and your mother, but I'm here now." His voice was tender as he held his palms up, his arms held out as if he was welcoming the woman in for a hug, but Izumi scrunched her nose in distaste.

"You were gone for ten years." She said, incredulous. "And all I get is a one second apology and cheap gifts to make up for it? These candies are five cents a piece."

The venom in her voice couldn't be avoided, and suddenly Yukio knew he was taking part in a losing battle.

"I was hoping to have dinner with you to explain and catch up." He chuckled. But the man was walking on thin ice if he thought Izumi was going to give in just like that, and her grip on the flowers tightened.

There was a stunned silence, and Yukio took that as his chance to take a step closer towards his daughter.

The movement caught Izumi's attention though and she flipped the bouquet over in her hands, keeping Yukio at least an arm's length away to make sure he didn't reach her.

"Do not take a step closer." She seethed angrily, holding the bouquet of flowers up with the stems pressing against his throat. She inwardly apologised to Tsumugi for ruining a nice bundle, but the anger running through her veins was strong.

A mixed array of coloured petals fell from where her fingers clutched at the blooms, and she hissed when Yukio tried to ease the flowers from his neck.

"I don't want to see you here." She muttered, ignoring the way the sparkle in her father's eyes diminished. She flipped the bouquet in her hand back around so they were upright and shoved it against his chest while pushing him back with surprising strength.

"I don't care if you missed the theatre. Or me." She spat, swiping the gift bag and candies from the ground where he set them down, and kept pushing him away until they were at the gate of the dorm. "I wouldn't believe you if you said so anyways."

"Izumi," her father pleaded, stumbling over his feet as he panicked at how he was obviously losing the privilege to speak to his daughter, "please. You're not giving me a chance."

"A chance?" She gasped, mockingly scandalised. She gave one last shove to Yukio until he was on the other side of the gate and tossed the crumpled flowers by his feet, shutting the door. "You fucking left your family without a goodbye and didn't give one single explanation." She gritted out, pointing at Yukio from across the barrier.

"Don't talk about chances when you didn't give us one either." She spat. "You left us in debt, and mom had to work three jobs. Three!  Not once did we receive a phone call, hell, a letter. And the only person you kept in touch with was Yuzo? Get the hell out of here, man.

You're acting like this isn't a big deal, but you were gone for a decade. I looked for you everywhere and left empty handed every time. I had to clean the mess you left at Mankai and you want to come back now? You want to be a father now? I'm twenty-six for fuck's sake. I'm way past being 'daddy's little girl'."

"Izumi, just one hour of your time—"

"Fuck. That." She held up her middle finger as she began to step back, not once looking away from crestfallen eyes. "You can try and talk to mom, but she's not happy with you either. Last I saw, she was filing for annulment and was gonna pry your information from Yuzo."

"Don't come back." She huffed, spinning around on her heel. Her steps were hurried as she strode back inside the dorm with the gifts, and threw them on the table in the lounge after changing into her slippers.

The adrenaline that ran through her was ebbing away slowly as she noticed the very few petals that still stuck to her palms from when she clenched the bouquet in her grip. She tried to swipe them away, but they stuck to her sweaty palms with each flick.

She tried over and over again to get rid of the remnants of her father's visit and sighed shakily when they rolled beneath her fingers and dropped to the floor, the weight on her shoulders too heavy for her to pick her head up.

There were several distinct footfalls coming up from behind her as she tried to remain calm, but a distinct loneliness left her shuddering.

"Don't." She choked out, moving away from whoever was reaching out to hold her; Omi. She held her head in her palm while outstretching her other hand to tell him to stop.

She felt dizzy. Her head was hurting. That was probably one of the worst encounters she's ever had in her life and all she wants to do now is pass out and forget about everything that just happened.

"No. No, no, no." The actors, Tasuku, Tsuzuru, Misumi, tried to comfort her with gentle pats to her back or with kind words, but she forced herself away from them, panicked.

Her heart was racing at an irregular pace, forcing her to clutch at her chest in desperation to just– chill.

"Just– just don't let the kids see me, okay?" She didn't bother to look at any of the other men who hovered around her with concern and stumbled towards the hallway that would lead to her room.

It felt like her feet were made of lead as she walked, knees barely bending to keep her moving forward as she aimlessly trudged around.

She always practised her reaction to Yukio coming home, but she never once expected to see him ever again. She failed to do a single thing she promised she'd do if she ever saw his face again, and the mistake caused the pain in her heart to grow.

She wanted to punch him. Kick him. Make him kneel on the floor and beg for forgiveness. For leaving her and her mom; and for making her company fall apart with no place for the long forgotten members to go. She wanted him to explain his sudden disappearance and the lack of phone calls and letters. She had so many questions, but she never gave him the chance to open his mouth.

But how could she let him anyways? So many years gone with that trust broken; it isn't easy to keep calm. She expected herself to stay calm, but she lost her cool.

The estrangement left her lonely and confused, and she would've had difficulty believing his each and every word; any ounce of his credibility left long ago.

To forgive was an easy thing to say, but an action quite difficult to do. She didn't want to leave things behind her when he looked like he was acting like a decade hadn't just passed without him in her life. When she needed him most.

Stupidly, she tripped over her feet just as she made it to her door and fell to the ground, hands braced to the floor as her head hung low.

"Izumi." A familiar voice whispered gently. A voice she didn't know she missed all those years ago until she saw him again.

Her wrists were taken in by calloused hands, and she tried to fight back with a shaky exhale, her eyes beginning to well with tears.

"No.. Leave me alone, please." She murmured pathetically, tugging at her wrists in an attempt to escape the strong hold.

"Izumi." His tone changed into something more firm once he heard her first sob, and trapped her wrists with one hand to make the woman look at him. His thumb and index lightly tipped her chin up, and Izumi finally looked at Sakyo with tears still in her eyes.

"Can you breathe for me? Slowly." The hand on her chin moved to cup the side of her face as he gave her instructions, demonstrating for Izumi how he wanted her to calm her erratic breathing.

Her eyes were crystalline as she continued to silently cry, hand held up to her mouth to hide the trembling frown she wore. She was embarrassed to have him see her like this, of all people, but.. she'd have him over anyone else right now.

She tried to copy him, show him that she was able to do something so simple, but after her second choppy breath, she couldn't.

"Kyo.." She whimpered high in her throat; trying not to sob out his name. Her brows furrowed as Sakyo looked at her expectantly, but she just... she couldn't. She couldn't.

"Okay. Okay, alright." He sighed after a few more seconds, his heart twitching at that nickname she used to call him when they were kids.

He leaned back against the door to her bedroom and pulled at her wrist again, leading the woman forward to have her sit in his lap sideways, her shoulder tucked against his front while her head rested in the crook of his neck.

His arms were warm around her as he held her around the waist, and that's when Izumi fell apart.

Her tears picked up again as she was reminded of the past when Sakyo would hold her like this whenever she cried, and she couldn't help but wrap her arms around his neck as she sobbed into his jaw.

"I don't understand.." The pain and confusion was so clear on her face, even from down the hallway where a few of the others were peering in; to understand what was going on.

Izumi Tachibana.. a strong willed woman with an undying determination and love for everyone who followed her thus far.. was reduced to tears. And nobody knew what to do.

Nobody but Sakyo at least.

"It hurts so much.." She choked, fingers digging into the fabric of his coat. It felt like there were thorns digging into her throat whenever she breathed, her heart crumpling like a piece of paper.

Her strangled breathing and wet hiccups could be heard from the lounge room, where everyone else who had witnessed everything go down was. They couldn't bear to look at the sight of their director looking torn, but their hearts felt like they were twisting with each whimper she let out.

"Should I have let him talk?" She smiled suddenly, but the twinge of sadness was still there along with a new hint of regret.

"Maybe I was too aggressive.." Izumi whispered beneath her breath, lashes wet with tears as her body still shook with silent sobs.

Sakyo sighed and lifted a hand to pet her hair, his heart feeling uneasy at this side of Izumi resurfacing again. Insecure, self-doubting, Izumi. Someone he didn't want to see ever again, but here she was.

"Stop thinking. You can't change the outcome anymore." His voice was firm to make sure Izumi didn't fall further down the spiral she was struggling to escape, and manoeuvred her around so that her legs were wrapped around his waist when he saw Tasuku and Omi come by.

He held his hands out for the men to grab onto and hoisted the both of them up until Sakyo was onto his feet, Izumi still snug and comfortably hanging onto him.

"You really can't.." Sakyo sighed again upon hearing Izumi's sniffle, and followed the two other actors towards the lounge room. He then headed towards the kitchen to find Izumi a glass of water. "Unless Yukio comes around again, we'll have to just deal with what we've ended up with."

"I'm sorry." She muttered, pinching her palms with her nails to scold herself. Here she was, losing her mind. Everyone was growing uncomfortable and Sakyo didn't have anything else to say. Her heart sunk while the fog in her mind began to clear up and inwardly cringed at her two outbursts.

"I said stop thinking, idiot." Sakyo scoffed, setting the woman on the counter so that he'd have an easier time getting her water.

"And I know your relationship with your mom hasn't been too great lately." He murmured, the cogs in his head turning to help him figure out what was a comforting thing to say.

"..But we're your family now." Sakyo offered her the glass of water to take and Izumi took it with a grateful nod. The mention of family left a foreign feeling to settle in her stomach, making her turn her head towards the lounge where a few of the members sat.

They all waved at her, and oddly enough... their smiles were.. familial. Warm, inviting. Cozy..

That feeling in her stomach began to bloom and it spread a tingling feeling towards her fingertips. She felt like she was buzzing now, and the cold sadness that loomed over her was replaced with a blanket of security and warmth.

And this time, her tears were due to the relief that washed over her as she realised that, yes.

They're her family now.

[jiamour]

piano, practice & peptalks

pairing: chenle x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 5.9k

summary: chenle is the pianist for your senior year production of high school musical and he always stays late to help you practice

alternatively: chenle make heart go woosh

a/n: i wrote this a year ago so it may not be great,, he’s a shy boy in this im sorry,, but if people can write jeno as a bad boy all the time i can have my shy boy chenle so,,,, also i tried to edit it but i got tired of reading it over and over so its still a mess

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

“start on four okay, i’ll count you in,” chenle instructed, nodding his head like he was confirming your next actions to himself. he hadn’t even glanced in your direction, his eyes fixated on his hands that laid on top of piano keys. 

you were sat on the floor, a pointless rolled up and crumpled script in your hands, and just like chenle your eyes were glued to the movement of his hands against the piano. “one,” his fingers mechanically moving, nodding along to the beginning melody you both had heard at least a thousand times in the last hour. “two,” you were starting to get nervous again, maybe it wasn’t the greatest idea to ask the most musically gifted human to probably ever exist to help you practice for a school play. it was just another under budgeted, high school musical rendition of “high school musical” after all, because your school lacked any ounce of originality.  “three,” you took a breathe in, flopping out the lines in your hand so you could easily see, cringing at the noise. “four,” his eyes moved to you, still playing the basic tune, checking to see if you were going to start on time. which, sadly, was a rare occurrence. you tried your best to listen to his cue breathily beginning, “it’s funny-“ “nope, again,” he stopped you immediately, almost ruthlessly. you kicked your feet lightly against the stage, humming in disappointment. “but chenle, whyyy?” it came out in an unintentional whine. he laughed humorlessly, shifting his body so it was facing you, a hand running through his hair. he still had a smile on your face but you were sure it was more from annoyance than happiness. his hand dropped from his hair so he could look you in the eyes, though you could swear he was looking right passed you instead “you were off key, if you kept going, the whole song would have been wrong and we’d be wasting time.” “it seems like we’re wasting time anyways,” you mumbled under your breathe, frustrated, breaking the “eye contact”. you let your head droop towards the ground as you played with the half empty water bottle beside you. “hey,” his loud voice was so much softer now clearly noticing your frustration. he leaned forward on his bench his elbows resting on his knees, hair swooped slightly over his eyelashes, “look at me yn.” you listened to him and were met with his soft droopy eyes gazing right into yours, this time making your heart skip a beat. when he got your attention he started speaking again, awkwardly moving his hands along with his words not knowing what to do with them when he wasn’t playing the piano, “i’m sorry if i’m being too tough on you, i just know you can be great and i want to see that.” you huffed not appreciating his half assed pep talk, falling back on your hands, resting them flat on the floor behind you. “sure, whatever i’ll try harder.” “no yn, that's not what i’m saying. i um- you want to be like gabriella don’t you? work hard and it’ll pay off okay?” he tried, his tone a little stressed but slightly humorous. “gabriella was late to all the rehearsals and try outs, and almost didn’t go to the performance,” your tone was empty and tired, also a little raspy from all the times it had to stop and start. chenle was taken aback for a second, or at least you thought he was, his expression morphed back into the usual small smile almost instantly. “okay then, um, don’t be like her then, be like sharpay.” “but she doesn’t get the role after working hard for years,” you fought back sternly, like this was the subject you were most passionate about in life and not like you were just happy you got to take a break from chenle telling you that you were wrong.  he laughed a little, pushing himself up so now one hand was on his knee and the other was pushing the hair back out of his face. his navy blue sweater flopped open a little as he moved. “just let me have this yn, i’m trying to motivate you!” you were sure he was just as tired as you were having to play the same notes over and over, and the dim lighting of the stage didn’t make it any better. “never,” you fought back a little bite in your voice and he lazily rolled his eyes at you deciding it was best to turn away, back towards the comfort of his piano now. “we’re going again you know the count,” again without any confirmation he began playing, patronizingly calling out the number to you, and this time, just to push his buttons, you started at 3. “stop,” he muttered, before you could even get the second syllable out. “yn, you have to listen to me for the millionth time, it’s 1-2-3-4 and THEN you start singing, please stop missing the beat before i-“ he was keeping his tone low and calm but his hands waved through the air violently as he spoke, until his tangent was broken off by you laughing to the side. with the tiniest admirable smirk on his face he turned to see you giggling on the ground getting amusement from his annoyance.  “you should have seen your face,” you happily expressed through your giggles making him shake his head in disbelief “my face didn’t even move,” if you didn't know better you’d say his voice was almost whining back at you. “yeah but you wanted it too. i saw twitches zhong chenle don’t lie to me!” you cut him off when he tried to interject a finger held in the air just for emphasis “there was no-“ he took a breathe knowing you were just trying to get a reaction out of him, wanting to give into your game, but wanting more to practice at the same time, “let’s just start again and no forgetting how to count this time.” “one.” ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈« “that’s not the note,” he stopped playing and instead took to guiding you through the song with his finger moving up and down in the air as if you could understand that perfectly. “listen chenle, we can’t all be literal prodigies like you,” like always you began your usual squabble with him that had started to occur almost every time you messed up. or in other words, a lot. “hate to break it to you yn,” he started, tracing his hand over a key while playfully looking into your eyes, “but it doesn’t take a musical genius to be able to sing along to high school musical, zac efron could do it for god sake” “actually zac efron didn’t sing his parts in high school musical,” chenle appeared stunned, like he did every time you said something that he didn’t know, this might not even have been true but it was nice to have rendered him speechless if only for a second. his mouth hung open cutely until he swallowed and spoke again his lips in a small pout “i should just stop using characters as an argument you thwart me every time.” “did you just say ‘thwart’?” you laughed falling forward slightly holding your stomach. he nudged you with his shoulder, looking away embarrassed but still smiling along with you ALSO speaking of him nudging you, after many many practices together chenle finally let you sit beside him on his bench. you took this as a large accomplishment. you’d only seen one person sit on his bench before during normal play rehearsal and he definitely wasn’t welcoming their presence. chenle’s best friend, jisung’s, girlfriend, craving to be liked by everyone, pushed in beside him a few days ago taking up room with not only her form but also her overwhelmingly, extroverted personality. chenle, though clearly uncomfortable, just smiled shyly and opted to show her how to play a few simple chords per her request. it took jisung constant tapping on her shoulders for about five minutes straight to finally get her away with new piano knowledge she’d surely forget seconds after. bUT besides all that, chenle had finally allowed you to sit with him, and that’s all that mattered, even if it did leave room for more nit picking and teasing. “let’s just get back to practicing,” he said through his laugh, straightening his posture. you followed his lead almost comically straightening your back to mock him which just making him laugh more. he playfully pushed your forearm to get your shoulders to fall again, “stop ittt!” you punched your arm out just enough so it missed the piano in front of you and turned your head towards chenle, “stop what chenle, this is my battle position.”

he shook his head and positioned his eyes on the piano, “i’m starting whether you like it for not, so stop fooling around.” “fine,” swiftly your arms were crossed across your chest, an over dramatic pout morphing all your other features, “you’re no fun.” “oh, so that’s how we’re going to be,” he sounded like he was challenging you and not like he had been offended by your comment. chenle cleared his throat, positioned himself and his hands like he was about to play an epic concerto, and then in one quick movement he hit a single key around the center right of the piano, “you need to be here, but you are-“ he then proceeded to smash his hands down on the keyboard to create a loud unpleasant mash of noise, “here.” “heyyy,” you kicked his foot with your own lightly “you’re a bully zhong chenle.” ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈« your eyes were locked with chenle’s as you ran through one of the musical numbers. he was sat off to the side on his piano bench which he seemed to never move from while you were up on main stage, the stage lights blinding the corner of your eyes. it was almost the end of practice and you were tired, the cast was tired, the theatre teacher was tired, but chenle, somehow he had all the energy in the world to dance mockingly off to the side moving cutely around to try to copy your actions. you probably should have been watching your step or at least watching your “co star” because it wasn’t exactly safe with all the basketballs haphazardly thrown around. but instead you couldn’t take your eyes off probably the dorkiest little piano man. “okay, okay CUT!” your teacher called from one of the seats at the back of the room, pushing herself up slightly so she appeared more in charge. the dancing and singing stopped abruptly with her words and you stumbled a little having to be caught by jaemin who happened to be beside you, you could already imagine chenle laughing at you later, “yn dear, for the love of god please pay attention to what’s going on instead of staring at chenle.” you. were. embarrassed. your eyes sunk from the teacher to the ground to chenle who was indeed laughing and back to the ground before nodding and muttering an “um i- okay, sorry.” the teacher nodded back and turned her attention to the smiling boy,  “and chenle,” his expression immediately dropped and you saw him noticeably get shy and swallow “keep up the enthusiasm.” the rest of practice went smoothly, sadly with a lot less chenle dancing and a lot more actually practicing. like always you stayed later with chenle. he would always be waiting for you by his piano as you said goodbye to your friends and cast mates, sometimes he’d play to speed by time and you’d wait a little longer to go to him just to listen. but today zhong chenle wasn’t at his piano, today he was dribbling one of the basketballs that used to be a tripping hazard, across the stage. you leaned your left side on the wall beside you, your arms crossed and a teasing smile prepared on your expression. just as he was about to shoot on the flimsy basketball net some kid had taken off his driveway to help with the set, you snuck up behind him. with a light tap on his arms, you yelled a loud “boo!” causing him to drop the ball out of his hands and spin around towards you with a pout. “what was that for?” he continued to frown even as you smirked and ducked under his gaze to grab the basketball that had stopped rolling on the floor beside him. “i just wanted to show you how a real pro does it,” you said confidently a quick nod to your head and the basketball tucked under your arm. “uh huh sure,” chenle spoke sarcastically lunging forward to grab the ball out of your hands but you dodged his arms and ran a little to the side away from him “is that why it took you so many tries to get the ball in during practice yesterday?” “i just didn’t want to intimidate them with my talents, god chenle,” you moved your hand up to your head as you spoke and the ball rolled away from your grasp. quickly you scampered after it not wanting chenle to get it before you. “right, right sorry i doubted you.” he began walking to his piano again and you knew what that meant, more practicing. “let’s go over the song we stopped on yesterday, yeah?” he expected you to follow, instead you tossed the basketball weakly and it flew about 5 feet in front of you to the left side of the net. you turned on your feet hoping chenle hadn’t noticed and pretending that you had meant for that to happen: of course chenle noticed, he had his hand covering his smile as he laughed. as soon as you saw him as happy as he was, you knew you didn’t want to practice. “no,” you held your ground your feet cemented to the floor. “no?” his laughing haulted and, like the cutie he was, his head tilted in confusion. “i’m hungry” it was the first thing to pop into your head and plus, you really were hungry. somehow though you still sounded confident.  “you’re hungry?” he repeated your words back slower his eyes squinting against the bright stage lights which you hadn’t turned off yet. your eyes rolled the slightest bit and your hand rested on your hip, though you weren’t actually annoyed “what are you a parrot now?” “no,” he said. “i just don’t know how to respond, you don’t have food do you?” “no,” your face scrunched “that’s why i’m hungry.” he opened his mouth to speak but you continued talking “but there are vending machines and you seem like the kind of guy to always have your wallet on you.” “i’m not buying you food.” “but chenleee,” you tried a whine and puppy dog eyes that he never fell for. “no.” “look, i’ve been rehearsing for three hours, THREE HOURS CHENLE, please give me money so i can get us something from the vending machines,” you had your hands together, ready to beg him. originally this was just an excuse but now that you thought about it you were starving and you could already hear your stomach grumbling in the near future. he stood up from his bench dusting off his knees as just a habitat, because really where would he have acquired dust?  “if you can beat me in a basketball game to three, i’ll buy you food.” “you’re on,” and with that chenle lazed across the stage towards the basketball that laid just off stage and his nonchalant movements led you to believe this win would be easy even if you sucked. boy were you wrong. chenle tossed the ball to you which you caught with an oomf not expecting the strength behind it. you let him walk to center stage again before you bowed “what the fuck yn-“ “it’s for honor,” you hissed gesturing for him to do what you did “that’s not how it-“ you looked up in a glare “fine, whatever.” as soon as he awkwardly bowed you ran forward messily dribbling the ball. you heard his initial shock and then a laugh behind you and then seconds later in front of you as he swooped the ball out of your possession. “that’s illegal,” you cried chasing after him as he dribbled to the other side and easily sent it into the basket. he retrieved the ball and turned back to your slumped form smiling “no, that’s one for me.” “you’re not supposed to be good at this,” you sighed as he tossed the ball back in your direction. “come on yn” he said. “if zac efron can do it then you can too” you went to speak your finger up in the air like you were going to correct him again so he spoke faster than you, “what are you going to tell me zac efron didn’t do any of the basketball playing as well?” “no,” you bounced the ball in front of you “i was going to ask you if you only have one pep talk?” “yes i do,” he rubbed his hands together getting ready to play again, “now start dribbling so i can get 2 more points and we can go back to practicing.” “um i think you mean, i get 3 more points and we eat snacks.” “not a chance.” and with your newfound will to beat chenle you ran forward only to get the ball taken from you a second time. this time you reacted faster deciding to latch onto him in true koala form instead of going for the ball. “this-“ he tried to shake you off his back are the ball rolled out of his hands and across the stage again “is not how you play basketball.” “that’s because you’ve never seen my strategy.” “i don’t know what you hope to achieve from this strategy,” he laughed finally shrugging you off.  “snacks.” you answered, “i hope to achieve snacks.” chenle won the game 3-1 sadly, after his second basket he noticed your enthusiasm withering so he “accidentally” fumbled the ball in your direction 3 or 4 times until you finally got it in. his third point was achieved about 3.5 seconds later from the opposite side of the “court” to stop you from getting too cocky. “let’s go practice now,” you groaned and stopped chenle by pulling his arm before he could go back to the dreaded piano. “please chenle, buy me snacks,” you whined trying again with the puppy dog eyes “i’ll name my first born child after you.” “well i don’t think that’s necessary-“ “i’ll mention you in my award acceptance speeches when i’m famous, you’ll be known as zhong chenle the guy who got me snacks and saved my life,” you tugged on his arm more and you could feel him relenting “fine,” he said as he took out his wallet with the hand that wasn’t being pulled by you. “thank you-“ you yelled out happily jumping away from him “but-“ he held $10 in front of you and when you went to grab it he moved it away, “you have to promise me you’ll get famous, cause if you don’t i’m marching straight up to your house and getting my money back.” “of course,” you nodded barely listening to what he said your eyes fixed on the money in his hand which you snatched as soon as he brought it near. you sprinted off down the halls to the nearest vending machine leaving chenle on stage shaking his head with a fond smile. “why did you get apple slices,” chenle asked picking up the cold green plastic they were in and plopping them back on the ground in front of him. “i didn’t know if you were a vegetarian so i didn’t want to offend you,” you responded plopping a chip in your mouth, the bag of which chenle grabbed from your hand the second he noticed. you were both sitting cross legged on the stage floor across from each other the food laying in between you.

chenle waited until he finished his chip to speak, “chips are vegetarian yn, they’re just potatoes.”

“you’re a potato.” 

“that was uncalled for.”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

“we’re soaring. flying. there's not a star-” chenle mumbled through the words robotically as he played leaning forward to squint at the lyrics. 

you hit him with your slightly rolled up script, “sing! when i asked you to help with the duet i meant singing.”

“i’m not singing,” chenle leaned back his hands in his lap and no longer on the piano as he shook his head. 

“come on chenle if zac efron can do it you can too,” you laughed taking his stupid pep talk from him. 

he turned his head in your direction amused, “from what i heard zac efron didn’t sing either.”

“not in high school musical maybe,” you said smirking, “but he did in the greatest showman, at least i think he did.”

“you’re a loser.” 

“says you.”

he sighed and straightened out the sheet music on his piano, “let's start again.”

“are you going to sing?” you perked up hoping he would give in like he had for the snacks a few days ago.

“no,” he shook his head again, harder this time, like if he shook his head enough the idea would leave yours.

“please?” you were pouting and he knew it so he decided not to look at you, knowing that over the past few weeks he had been getting softer for your every action. 

“no,” his tone was uncertain and you latched onto that like he knew you would. 

“chenle,” you said this to get his attention hoping he would turn towards you like he usually did but again he refused his leg bouncing beside him. 

your socked feet hit against his piano bench in frustration which you sat on cross legged facing him. “chenle look at me.”

this time he did but he wouldn’t meet your eyes shyly he looked down at the ground beside you. you delicately grabbed his hands from off the piano and into your own.

when you squeezed his hands a little he finally looked into your eyes and you smiled at him, “chenle will you please sing with me?” you asked softly, softer than he’d ever heard your voice before. 

“fine” chenle relented, he knew if he looked into your hopeful eyes for too long he would agree but there was really no helping it. 

“really?” your eyes sparkled not expecting his response and he nodded.

“really.” he cleared his throat, “but don't laugh at how much i suck alright?”

“chenle i’ll only laugh if you're really bad, don’t worry” you watched as his shy expression changed into a pout on his soft lips. then you realized you were looking at his lips. You looked back into his eyes to see him staring back at you with a look of soft wonder.

with a small cough to break the silence and to break your hands apart, you forced a laugh “i’m kidding, i bet you’re great anyways your good at everything else.”

“i can literally do two things,” he laughed. Good, you were back to your usual interactions. 

“well that's two more things than me,” you fought back.

his mouth fell open like you had offended him but his eyes were still friendly, “um shut up, you can sing, you can dance, you can steal my heart,” he made a heart shape with his hands after he spoke.

“you can’t sweet talk me out of making you sing.” 

“darn.”

“and who the fuck still says darn?”

“your mom?”

you hit his shoulder a little harder than usual, “zhong chenle!”

“i’m sorry it just slipped out, i didn’t mean to bring back a joke from the 2000’s,” he looked ashamed but you saw the smile twitching on his lips. jEsus stop looking at his lips.

“i just-” you placed a hand over your heart, your head turned away dramatically, “i just don’t know if we can be friends anymore after that.”

“yn-”

“no i'm leaving,” you said getting up from the bench and grabbed your bag that laid on the ground beside you.

before you could step away he lightly grabbed your wrist in his hand and gently tugged you back in his direction, “don’t leave.”

he was too soft to decline so you huffed, you shrugged your bag off again, and sat back down on the stool.

“good,” he said letting your wrist go and turning to his piano “let’s practice.”

“fine,” you agreed taking in a breath of air “but no piano this time.”

“you want me to sing acapella with you?” he asked in disbelief, doubting you would stick to this seemingly outrageous request.

“yes,” you confirmed quickly.

“okay,” chenle didn’t know why he agreed or why he agreed so easily but he knew he couldn’t back out now without another fight, “so um- how do we start?”

“not so tough without your piano huh?” you teased reaching to his sheet music and handing it to him, “first you probably need the lyrics.”

“good call,” he nodded rocking back, one hand on the bench the other holding the lyrics, and swallowing nervously.

you could see how tense he was and placed a hand over his too try to calm him down a bit, he relaxed slightly under your touch and you began to count him in “one, two, three, four.”

“we’re soaring; flying, there's not a star in heaven that we can’t reach,” his voice was so fucking pretty and he didn’t tell you this before? and for why was he being modest?? his voice was beautiful and it made your heart swell that he had agreed to share it with you and no one else.

“hey,” chenle waved the paper in your face, you blinked and broke yourself out of the thoughts you hadn’t even realized you were trapped in, “you missed your part.”

“you’re so pretty,” it came out in an over dramatic pout then you realized what you said “um- i um meant your voice is pretty.” 

in typical shy boy fashion he looked away, “i um- thank you? but it would be nice if you sang next time too.”

“right, lets go again.”

“whats this?” chenle smirked tilting his head in fake confusion, “yn actually wanting to practice? was my voice that moving?”

“shut up,” you huffed and raised your fingers in a count to start again.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

“wheres yn?” jaemin asked leaning over chenle's shoulder as he did the soundcheck for the night.

“what do you mean, ‘where's yn’” he did finger quotes and his face scrunched up slightly annoyed and confused.

“i mean, wheres yn,” jaemin repeated again in the same curious tone “she’s not with the cast so i thought she’d do with you”

“what do you mean she’s not with the cast?” chenle’s voice was louder now trying to hide that he was worried about you when nothing was probably happening.

“I mean shes not with the cast-” jaemin frowned “why do you want me to keep repeating things? are you okay chenle?”

chenle ignored him and quickly finished his soundcheck going off to find you. awkwardly he went up to one of your friends spending the whole time fiddling with his fingers until they told him you had gotten nervous and went to splash some water on your face. 

he spoke quick thank you and wandered down the hall to see if you were okay, hesitantly he knocked on the door “in a minute!” you called from behind it your voice shakier than normal. 

“hey yn, you're on in um-” he looked down at his watch and his heart rate picked up, “literally two minutes, you good?”

“um yeah,” he heard a loud sniff as you walked over to the door and opened it. 

your face was red and you brought a hand up to rub your eyes leaning on the door frame giving chenle a fake smile.

“have you been crying?”

“no,” you sniffed.

he gave you a disbelieving look and you frowned tears spilling from your eyes again, he held his arms open and you immediately fell into them, holding onto him tightly. one arm wrapped around you while his other texted jaemin to tell the teacher they may have to delay the musical a few minutes. 

placing his phone back into his back pocket he brought a hand up to move down your hair calmingly as you cried into his chest.

“yn,” you hummed against him in response until he moved you back his hands on your shoulders, holding you about a foot away. he cautiously brushed a tear away with his thumb, “you’re going to do great and i’m the harshest critic in the world, you of all people know that.”

“yeah,” you sniffed again “but you like me now, so it’s not the same.”

you smiled sadly at your own comment and he smiled with you “i’ve always liked you.”

“liar.” 

“okay, maybe i didn’t like you when we first met because you cut in line and took the last of the pizza,” chenle agreed, you humphed at him, a little glare in your eyes “but i liked you the second time i saw you, you know when you accidentally threw a pencil at my head, i really needed a pencil that day.”

you giggled and chenle was happy he was making progress. 

“this isn’t like your usual pep talks,” you teased, biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“well after a while i learned every single character in high school musical is actually corrupt and maybe not the best people for motivation.” 

“good call,” you nodded, “but you’re not even going try? i like shutting your pep talks down.”

“fine um-“ he said thinking “you can do this yn be like kelsi and sing your heart out.”

“she played piano she didn’t-“

“you get my point,” he smiled his pretty smile and you couldn’t help but smile back, “and you’re going to do great, so get on out there before they kill you and i for keeping them waiting.”

“okay.” you nodded and he let your shoulders go so you could run together to the stage where everyone was panicking, and before you parted ways you gave him a quiet thank you.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

you felt the adrenaline and pride rush through you as you finished the final number in the musical. you couldn’t stop a smile that took over your entire face from forming. 

you took your bow, immediately after looked to the side hoping chenle was paying attention and there he was standing at his piano at the side of the stage giving you a standing ovation, your eyes met and he smiled so proudly. 

you felt yourself lose control of your body as you ran towards him and jumped into his unsuspecting arms, your arms wrapping around his neck and your legs around his hips. it took him a second to regain his balance from the unexpected hug but once he had, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. 

“you did so good,” you leaned back so you could see his face and he could see yours. he was smiling. you were smiling. god was probably smiling but you couldn’t be sure. he spun you once as you both laughed and stopped looking you in the eyes “i’m so proud of you.” 

then you noticed how close his face was to yours, your eyes dropped to his lips and you could tell his did the same, your breathe was heavy from the performance as well as the close contact, chenle began to lean in and you both start laughing again. your head fell to his shoulder while you laughed together.

after a few seconds, and realizing that everyone could still see you both he put you down and shyly stepped away. his head ducking and flushed.

“i’ll um- see you later yn?” he said and you felt a little disappointed as he disappeared backstage without even waiting for your response. 

you turned back around to see your friends all huddled together laughing and talking so you quickly ran back to join in. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

“what are you doing man?” jisung asked having walked backstage to see chenle with his face leaned up against the brick wall. 

“kicking myself,” chenle mumbled back.

“why aren’t you with yn?” jisung asked and chenle groaned flipping around just to frown at jisung.

“because i’m stupid.” 

“that you are my friend,” jisung agreed.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

you hadn’t seen chenle for the rest of that night but day 2 of performing was today and you were determined to not let him just walk away on you again. 

as soon as you entered the room your eyes snapped to the piano which luckily chenle was still sat at. he wasn’t playing just shuffling through his endless sheet music so you knew you wouldn’t be interrupting anything.

quickly you moved over to him, fixing your posture so your walk was full of false confidence and authority.

“chenle-“ you tapped his shoulder and slid into the spot beside him on his bench. 

“yn,” he mumbled his eyes keep flashing to your lips making it hard to think about anything but kissing him.

“what are you up to?” your voice was as soft as his and was hard to raise above a whisper just as much trapped in a daze as he was. 

“oh you know just um- piano” he smiled leaning to the side and accidentally resting his arm on the keys only to bounce off when they made a loud sound. you giggled at his actions and he cursed himself for ruining the moment but it had only made you want him more. 

“that’s-“ you started not sure of what to say “fun.” 

“yeah its um- can i kiss you?” chenle didn’t know where the confidence had come from or even where the words had come from but they were definitely there, they had been said, holy shit.

chenle was in panic, you were going to reject him, he was going to lose you, he was going to die alone and have 50 cats, wait maybe that’s actually not too bad-

“yes,” you hummed. oh. that wasn’t what he expected. 

chenle cupped your cheeks and your eyes drooped close. his heart practically fluttered out of his chest when his lips met yours and he could already feel his palms getting sweaty. he dropped his hands from his cheeks and you moved yours to wrap loosely around his neck pulling him closer but that just caused your foreheads to crash together. with a giggle from you and a groan chenle you pulled apart awkwardly placing a hand on your forehead where his had hit.

“sorry,” you laughed, your smile huge on your face and so was his, as carefree as you’d ever seen it despite the pain echoing in his head. 

“no, it’s fine,” his words were slow and breathy and sounded just as smiley as he looked. “but i don’t think gabriella would have messed up like that, or zac efron.” 

your mouth fell open and your hands flew to your hips “SHUT UP!!” 

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Freakday - Sex Week Series

You can read the series on AO3 here!

You can read today’s fic on AO3 here!

Freakday!

Alright, y’all, this is 3.7 k of Malex FILTH. Tags include: crossdressing, lingerie, anal play, anal sex, panty kink, pwp, and mentions of alien refractory periods. Enjoy!

.

      Michael let himself into Alex’s house using his TK without even glancing over his shoulder to see if a neighbor was watching. He was tired and was having erotic feelings towards a weeks worth of sleep. It was late, midway between midnight and morning, but he’d been helping Sanders with an emergency tow an hour out of town. It had been a bitch of a job and he was tired, dusty, and feeling like the most shit boyfriend ever. Alex's first performance as Brad in Roswell Theatre Company's rendition of Rocky Horror Picture Show had been that night and he'd missed it.

       “Babe?” he called out, toeing off his boots and hanging up his jacket. He heard an answering yell from the back bathroom. He stopped by the kitchen to grab a beer and then went on into the master bedroom. The bathroom door was shut, but the light was on underneath and he could hear movement through the thin door. “Hey, I’m sorry I missed the show.”

       He set his beer down on the dresser and started pulling off his dirty clothes to chuck them into the hamper. He'd unbuttoned his jeans and was about to shimmy them down when he heard the bathroom door open behind him. He turned and felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

       Alex stood in the doorway in costume. He still had on the fishnet thigh-highs, the black satin underwear and red garters, and the black bustier from the show. He’d apparently taken off his shoes and gloves and was in the process of working off the stage makeup. He looked surprisingly comfortable in the outfit as he stood there working a make-up cloth around his eyes.

       “I thought you were playing Brad?” Michael asked dumbly, his mouth suddenly incredibly dry as his eyes kept running up and down Alex’s body. He didn’t think seeing a guy in lingerie would be a thing he’d like, but Alex wearing lingerie was a thing he      definitely     liked. When Michael’s eyes finally made their way up past Alex’s collarbone he could see the amused smile on his boyfriend's face.

       “I am playing Brad, but the final number always has all the main characters in the same outfit,” he said, waving a hand down his body to indicate his current get up. He tossed the soiled make-up cloth into the trash and approached Michael where he was frozen by the laundry hamper. Up close, Michael could still see flecks of shimmer glitter on his skin and in his hair. The smudged remains or black eyeliner around his eyes and the red stain left on his lips from the lipstick made Michael’s heart rate pick up. Alex laid his arms over Michael’s shoulders and let his body arch into him. “Where were you?”

       “Sanders had a complicated towing job out towards Alamogordo. It took us for fucking ever, this guy ended in a ditch by a gully and…. Jesus, you’re so fucking hot right now,” Michael interrupted himself. He’d been running his hands up and down the bustier and then past it’s edge between the two or three inches of uncovered flesh before he hit the panties Alex was wearing under the garters. They felt like they had distinctly less fabric to them than a normal pair of women’s briefs. Alex was giving him an amused smile which Michael took as encouragement as he traced along the edges of Alex’s underwear with the tips of his fingers.

       “Just don’t rip anything, I have to wear this for two more nights. Rocky Horror all Halloween weekend!” Alex repeated the advertising line with his best attempt at a radio announcer’s voice. Michael grinned and moved forward to hover in front of his mouth for a kiss.

       “We’ll get you out of this in no time. I think I’ve already found my favorite part,” Michael breathed against his lips before giving Alex a quick kiss and snapping the waistband of Alex’s panties.

       “Oh? You don’t think I look good in the whole outfit?” Alex teased as Michael’s wandering hands pushed under the edge of the bustier to touch his back and then back down to his ass.

       “Oh, I love the whole outfit. But I mean, if I can want to fuck you in that terrible, unflattering airmen’s outfit, then there’s nothing I won’t want to fuck you in. This, however, is certainly something...more,” Michael replied easily. He moved his mouth to Alex’s jaw, then neck, then shoulder, then chest. He kissed along the upper edge of the bustier, his hands starting to go for the knotted corset ties at the top. Alex stilled his hands. Michael looked up at him curiously.

       “There’s a zipper in the back,” he said with a frankly dirty grin before turning around to show Michael his back. Michael caught the flash of the silver zipper tongue, but couldn’t help but stop and appreciate the full picture. The swell of Alex’s impressive shoulder muscles over the top of the black pleather, the way it framed his tapered waist, the red garter that pressed into his muscular ass on its way down his to the tops of his black fishnet thigh highs, and the black satin panties that were almost a thong showing off the round globes of his ass. He’d shaved just about everything to be able to wear this outfit and while Michael loved Alex’s body hair more than was appropriate, this smooth, manicured version was also delectable.

       “You just going to look or are you going to help me get out of this?” Alex asked over his shoulder. Michael moved close to speak low in Alex’s ear as he grasped the top of the zipper.

       “Hold your horses. I’m admiring a piece of art,” Michael said before starting to kiss a trail down Alex’s neck and then down his spine. He unzipped as he lowered himself onto his knees, mouth pressing against every new inch of skin exposed by the parting zipper teeth. When he got to the end, he unhooked the zipper with a quick tug. He was peripherally aware that Alex slipped the garment off his torso and tossed it towards the top of the dresser. He was more aware of the new expanse of naked skin in front of him and the faint lines of indention pressed into it from the tight garment. He traced the lines on Alex’s skin with his fingertips for a moment before continuing his slow descent down Alex’s body. He pushed his fingers under the red garters and traced down their path with his knuckles, admiring the red against Alex’s skin and the goosebumps that sprang up in the wake of his touch. He started to undo the hooks at the bottom of the garters with his fingers while his mouth brushed over the swell of skin that wasn’t covered by the bottom of Alex’s panties. He gave sucking kisses to the skin, enjoying the rosy flush as evidence of where his mouth had been. Alex moaned above him and Michael had to remind himself that this wasn’t the main event.

       “Turn around for me so I can get the garters in the front,” Michael commanded, staying on his knees on the floor and enjoying the view of Alex carefully twisting around to face him. It was evident when he turned around that Michael wasn’t the only one enjoying his slow exploration of Alex’s body. Michael threw him up a mischievous look before pulling down the front of Alex’s panties and tucking the band underneath his balls. The top of the garter belt and the fabric from Alex’s panties made an enticing frame for his cock. Alex was two thirds hard and it was making Michael's mouth water with memories of how good he tasted and felt on Michael's tongue. He caught Alex’s gaze as he moved forward and took him into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and shaft as he sucked more of him in. Alex let out a broken moan, his hands shooting out to clutch at Michael’s shoulders. Michael worked the other garters free quickly before pushing his hands up Alex’s thighs and massaging gently. Another moan worked itself out of Alex, this one full throated as his cock filled to full hardness in Michael’s mouth. Michael popped off with a sigh and pulled the front of Alex’s panties back up. They couldn’t cover all of Alex’s straining cock now that he was fully hard and the spit-slick tip stuck up past the waistband. Alex whined at the pressure under his head, but didn’t move to remove it. Michael curled his fingers under the garter belt and pulled it down Alex’s hips and thighs and then carefully maneuvered it off his feet.

       “You should go lay on the bed for this next part,” Michael advised, hands smoothing back up the textured expanse of the fishnets. Alex, who’d been watching him through half closed eyes, nodded his agreement and stepped back and over to the waiting bed. He hopped onto the edge and after a slow look up and down Michael who was still kneeling, crooked a finger at him to beckon him over. Michael stood and walked over, immediately situating himself between Alex’s obscenely spread legs. Alex drew him in for a deep, filthy kiss, his hands tugging through his curls before moving down his bare chest and lower to dip into the front of his open jeans.

       “Have I told you before how much I love it when you don’t wear underwear?” Alex said with a smile that spread from his lips to Michael’s as he pushed his jeans down his legs until they piled at the floor around Michael’s feet. Michael stepped out of them and kicked them behind him. Alex’s hand was around him, stroking and smearing the precum that had gathered at his tip over and down around the head. His other hand stayed tangled in Michael’s hair as they continued making out. Michael couldn’t stop running his hands over Alex’s body, too restless to stay one place, too keyed up to focus as it went from his thighs to his back to his chest to his hair and back down again. He started to lean forward, forcing Alex to let go of his cock in favor of catching himself on his elbows to gentle his fall as he was pushed back into the mattress. Michael broke their kiss and began kissing, sucking, and nipping a path down Alex’s body back towards his red, neglected cock. He only briefly paused to suck at the exposed head, drawing out a whine from Alex above him, before he kept moving down over his covered shaft and balls, mouthing at the soft fabric.

       He pushed down the thigh highs one at a time, careful not to tear them. He kissed and nipped roughly at the thin, sensitive skin of Alex’s inner knee as he worked off the prosthesis, sock, and liner. He massaged the muscles of Alex’s residual limb and up to his outer thigh, his mouth working the inner thigh. When his mouth reached the apex of Alex’s legs, he looked up towards Alex’s flushed face where he’d been watching him undress and worship his body.

       “I want to fuck you with the panties on,” Michael said, before mouthing over Alex’s balls and cock again, moving back up towards Alex’s face. “I want to you to lie on your stomach with you ass presented for me, panties on, and I want to eat you out and then fuck you. Sound good?”

       He’d finished with his mouth on Alex’s chest and he barely had to wait half a breath for Alex’s response.

       “Fuck, yes,” he breathed, pushing his hand into Michael’s hair so he could direct his face back up to Alex’s for a deep, searching kiss full of filthy promises and need. When Alex broke the kiss, he moved back away from Michael further onto the mattress and realigned his body so he could have his face near the headboard. He moved a pillow under his hips, but kept his body up on his knee not resting on it yet. Michael grabbed lube and a condom out of the bedside table and threw them onto the cover near Alex’s pillow before climbing onto the bed behind Alex’s beautifully presented ass. He put his hands over both cheeks of his perfect ass, fingers sneaking under the leg bands, and he began massaging the muscles in his hands. He loved watching the way the fabric seemed to disappear between Alex’s cheeks as he moved them, loved knowing he was one thin scrap of material away from what he really wanted. He bent forward and pulled Alex’s cheeks apart. He breathed through his mouth over the area directly above Alex’s hole, knowing the fabric was getting warm as he did. He pressed his tongue forward and licked over the fabric, causing Alex’s breath to hitch in surprise. Gathering some spit on his tongue, the next lick soaked the material through and it was almost like there was nothing between him and Alex’s skin. He backed up, kissed up to Alex’s skin, and rubbed his thumb over the sodden fabric over Alex’s pucker.

       “Does this feel okay, babe?” Michael asked, smiling even though Alex couldn’t see it when he got a needy whine and Alex pressing back against the pressure of his finger. He couldn’t help but mess with him a little. He pressed a little more firmly, dragging his finger up and down over his entrance, petting him with his thumb. “Do you need a little more?”

       “Fuck, Michael, yes!” Alex answered, sounding equal parts of horny and frustrated. Michael smiled against the skin at the bottom of his spine and kissed him apologetically.

       “Okay, I got you,” he said, then moved back down to replace his thumb with his mouth. He licked firmly over the fabric, pushing with his tongue at the pucker, swirling over it and sucked at the satin and skin surrounding it. Finally, he pushed the fabric aside, too desperate himself to keep teasing. At the first touch of his tongue to Alex’s skin, Alex let out a high pitched cry and Michael had to reach down to hold himself to keep from letting the sound get him too worked up. He returned to eating Alex out, pushing his tongue past his tight rim faster than he might normally but feeling himself starting to get desperate for more. Alex must’ve been feeling the same way, because he groaned into his pillow and rocked his hips back against Michael’s probing tongue. Michael sat back and grabbed the condom and lube. He ripped open the condom packet and rolled it onto himself quickly. When he popped the cap and looked up through, Alex was already working one finger in and out of his hole. Michael bent forward without thinking and licked around the probing finger, pushing his tongue alongside as much as he could. Alex keened above him and Michael reached between his legs to pull the panties down off of his cock. Even without seeing, Micheal could feel where Alex was dripping steadily onto the pillow beneath him. The tip was so warm and slick that Michael’s hand slid easily as he wrapped his fingers around Alex’s length and jerked him as best he could from the odd angle. He felt Alex pull his finger back and come back with two. Michael caught his hand and kissed his fingers before letting go.

       “I got you, baby. Let me take care of it. You touch your cock while I get your ready, yeah?” Michael suggested, letting Alex’s cock go so he could drizzle lube onto his fingers. He smeared the tips around Alex’s red, needy pucker before pushing in with two to take up where he and Alex had left off. It was still a slight stretch, but Michael immediately began spreading his fingers carefully and scissoring them to help Alex along. He teased at the rim with a third after a few minutes and Alex groaned behind him.

       “Please Michael, I’m good. I wanna feel you stretching me on your cock!” Alex groaned while looking over his shoulder, hair disheveled and expression wild. Michael nodded, too keyed up to say no, and dragged the panties down until they rested under the swell of Alex’s cheeks. He drizzled lube over his cock, using his hand to spread it around before positioning himself at Alex’s entrance. Since he wasn’t fully stretched, it took a little more effort for his body to accept Michael’s thick cock inside of him. Michael rocked forward gently, holding Alex’s hips steady as he pushed his way slowly past the tight rim of muscle. Alex’s thighs were trembling and Michael could feel the tension in his body. He paused and ran his hands up Alex’s back, massaging the muscles of his shoulders and down his spine. Minutely, inch by inch, Alex relaxed as Michael continued to push himself further into him with short, slow thrusts until their hips were cradled against one another.

       “Fuck, we should’ve stretched you more. You’re so fucking tight right now,” Michael groaned from above him, trying to get used to the velvet vice grip surrounding him. Alex was panting into his pillow, but Michael could see his arm moving beneath him, slowly stroking his cock. Alex loved this. Alex loved a little less prep and a little more stretch, loved to feel his body forced to make room for Michael inside of him, and Michael felt sure that Alex could cum just like this, without Michael moving, just stuffing him full while Alex jacked himself off onto the bed spread. But that wasn’t today’s game. Leaning forward, Michael positioned his hands to either side of Alex’s ribs and started to pull his hips back. It felt amazing. It always felt amazing to be inside Alex’s body, but this sucking pressure as he pulled out and pushed back in was indescribably good.

       “Oh God, Michael. Like that,” Alex moaned underneath him, punctuating his praise with a squeeze of his muscles around Michael’s cock that left him moaning helplessly into the skin of Alex’s back. Michael tried to keep up his steady pace, but his body craved more and it was hard to keep going slowly.

       “Alex, baby, I gotta…,” Michael panted against his skin. He couldn't wait before he picked up the tempo of his thrusts, pushing harder to feel the singing sting of their skin slapping together, and he could feel the coil of impending ecstasy in him growing tighter and tighter. Alex was likewise moaning and pushing back into his thrust, their skin meeting in meaty blows that pushed grunts out of Michael’s throat. It was too good, everything felt too good. He wasn't going to last very long.

       “Are you close?” Michael managed to ask through clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut so he couldn’t be tempted to look down at the reddening skin of Alex’s ass and thighs where it was meeting Michael's or at his cock splitting Alex wide as he thrust hard into his body.

       “Yeah, yeah. I’m so close, Michael. Fuck, so.. So… AH!” Michael felt the inexorable tightening of Alex’s body around him and he bit his lip as he plowed through his last few thrusts so he could follow him. It was the kind of orgasm that sucked all the sense of our brain and poured it into every nerve ending on your body. He kept rocking through his aftershocks until it became too much and he had to still and calm his heart.He and Alex tipped to the side as one, still connected, and breathing heavily. Michael lazily kissed Alex’s shoulder as he recovered, his arms wrapped solidly around his waist as if Alex would try to move away from him. Alex rubbed his forearms soothingly and pressed his body back into his kisses, tangling their legs together.

       “You’re amazing,” Michael breathed into Alex’s sweat dampened hair. He loved the smell of Alex after sex. He smelled good enough for Michael to get hard for another round before he could pull out from this one. The condom was the only obstacle keeping him from doing just that. With distaste and disappointment, Michael reached down between them to hold onto the condom as he pulled out of Alex’s body. He stripped it off and tied it quickly, tossing it towards the wastebasket. He pushed back against Alex’s body, needing to feel every inch of skin against his that he could. Michael buried his head in Alex’s neck and just breathed, trying to memorize his scent and their scent together.

       “So panties are apparently a thing we both enjoy. Good to know,” Alex teased in a casual, conversational tone. Michael nipped at the skin of his neck and snuggled himself closer as if they weren’t already touching everywhere they could.

       “Yes, I’d say so,” Michael agreed after Alex started to grind his ass back against Michael’s only half deflated cock. “But if you keep doing that, I’m not going to bother with the condom next time and we’re just going to have a mess to clean up.”

       “You didn’t have to bother with it this time,” Alex said, still giving small rolls of his hips.

       “I didn’t want to stain your costume,” Michael explained, feeling his cock fill again. Fucking alien refractory period was a curse and a blessing. His body had started to respond, small rolls of his hips to correspond with Alex's, his cock nestling in the valley between his still pink ass cheeks.

       “No costume in the way now…” Alex said conspiratorially. He reached back and raked his short nails up Michael's thigh to his hip, where he gripped him as if to spur him on.

       “Fuck, you’re a fucking menace,” Michael complained halfheartedly. Alex let our a pleased hum of agreement. Michael pulled himself away suddenly to lay on his back. “But you’re on top this time.”

       Alex rolled over and looked Michael up and down slowly, licking his lips as he did so.

       “Oh no, what’s a boy to do,” he replied with a slow, dirty grin that made Michael exceedingly glad he already had the morning off, because he didn’t think he’d be fit to move until after lunch.

[desiraypark]

An Old Friend

Characters: Adam Sackler x Original Character (Black Female/Femme)  OC: Katrina “Trina” Santos - described as petite (particularly short, not necessarily thin) and having been quiet and introverted when they were young. Storytelling purpose: Adam thinks he’s about to turn her out and toss her around like a dodgeball. Content: Chile. Take a wild guess. Licky-licky; pokey-pokey; sucky-sucky. Additional CW: Dirty talk; a tad bit of name-calling; Adam shoves that spray can down OC’s throat and OC guzzles that Reddi Whip.  Author’s Note: I still haven’t actually watched a full episode of Girls lol. YouTube clips and Girls Wiki have been my friends. Word Count: 2,829

Adam stood outside of the bar, took a deep breath, and walked in. He maneuvered through a small group that was just standing in the middle of the floor for some fucking reason, and sat down. The bartender was way on the other end.  “I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said. Adam nodded his acknowledgement, and used the time to think about what he wanted. “Adam?” a little voice called to him. He looked in the direction it came from--two seats to his left. A vaguely familiar girl with curly hair and gold hoop earrings that complemented her gold eyeglasses smiled at him. “Trina...Santos...” Adam blinked and shook his head a little, trying to adjust his vision. The last time he saw Katrina Santos...well, it was in a cap and gown. But before then, she always wore hoodies, jeans, Jordans and round, black eyeglasses. She rarely wore makeup or even jewelry. And she definitely didn’t talk much. 

Now, she was sitting at the bar with her hair out, gold jewelry placed wherever jewelry could go--wearing red lipstick, that contour or highlight shit that girls wore now, and had a set of jugs partially on display.  “No fucking way,” he said. “Trina?!”  He slid over to the empty seat beside her and gave her a hug. “How are you?” “I’m doing fine,” she replied. She looked down at her half-empty pint glass. “Well, kinda.”  She got a good look at his face. He still looked the same, yet so different at the same time. His hair was longer and his body bulkier. 

“You still live in Brooklyn?” he asked. “No. Harlem now.” Her head tilted a little. She suddenly remembered that Adam had a drinking problem in high school. She cleared her throat, not daring to question him.

“I’ve seen you on TV a few times. I’ve heard about you being on the stage. I’m glad you stuck with theatre. You were so good in school.” “What’ll you have?” the bartender asked. Adam’s head shot up in his direction and he gave the decision deep thought. He felt Trina’s eyes on him, too.  “Club soda with lime.” The bartender nodded and fixed up his drink. “So, what are you doing now? Are you still a shy poet?”  Trina scoffed and chuckled. “Still shy. A poet sometimes.” The bartender handed Adam his drink.  “I work as a reading specialist now. At an elementary school,” Trina added. “That doesn’t surprise me,” Adam said. He took a sip of his drink. Trina felt butterflies in her stomach. She didn’t expect Adam to remember things about her.  “So, what brought you here?” he asked. Trina looked down at her watch. “I’m supposed to be on a date. But I guess I missed the new rule where only one person actually shows up at the meetup spot.” “Wow. Did you call him?”  “Of course. Called, text. No response.”  “Damn. What a dick,” Adam said. 

Trina finished off her drink, then held up her hand. “It is what it is. C’est la vie; que sera, sera. All that stuff.” Adam twirled the straw in his club soda. 

“So, what’s been going on with you?” she asked. Adam looked back at her. “Oh, working. I’m rehearsing for a play right now. Off-Broadway...” “That’s great,” Trina said warmly. “But what I meant was...what’s got you ready to fall off the wagon?” Suddenly, there was silence between them. Beyond them was the chatter of strangers, the sound of liquid being sucked through straws, and easy listening music. Adam looked down at the bubbles in his drink. “My girlfriend broke up with me.” Trina rubbed Adam’s arm. “I’m sorry to hear that...” “I’m fine. It was understandable. Might even say it was karma.” “Oh?” “Yeah...” 

He looked up at Trina’s empathetic face. “But let’s talk about something else. What time was your date supposed to be here?”  She looked down at her watch again. “An hour ago. But I’ll be honest, I was more so hoping to get laid than to make a connection. So, no broken heart tonight. Just a dry puss.” Adam chuckled and shifted in his seat.  “I’m sorry, that was so vulgar,” Trina said, laughing to herself.  “No, I get it.” Lust filled Adam’s eyes. Trina caught them, and cleared her throat. “It just sucks that I got all dressed up for nothing,” she said. Adam used her statement as an excuse to give her another once over. She hadn’t gotten any taller since high school. The only difference between then and now, was that then, she was short and relatively thin. Now, she was short and had a little...umph. “Wanna grab something to eat? Keep the night from being a total waste?” he asked.  Trina gave her watch another glance. “Sure. Why not?” Adam paid for both of their drinks, and they walked toward the door. He held the door open and Trina turned around just in time to catch him looking at her ass. He met her eyes with haste.  “You remember Vinny’s?” he asked. Trina smirked. “Of course.” She started walking and Adam’s long legs quickly pulled him to her left side, protecting her from the street they were actually yards away from. Their shoes hitting the pavement were the only sounds they heard. Finally, Trina looked up at Adam. “Do you live nearby?” she asked. “Yeah...two blocks away...” Trina nodded. Adam could sense the tension that suddenly fell over her. He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet, then noticed her little feet. Red-painted toes in gold, high-heeled sandals. He looked back up at their path, and suddenly, she stopped walking. Adam stopped, too. “Do you wanna fuck?” she asked.  Adam smirked, took her hand, and led her in the opposite direction. Trina giggled as he led her through people, around a corner, and down a couple of blocks until they reached his building. Still not letting go of her hand, he unlocked his door, pulled her inside, and held her face in his hands. Then, he devoured her mouth. “It’s dark in here,” she whispered. Next thing she knew, she was being pulled into a bedroom. Adam flicked on the light and started kissing her again.  “I say some crazy shit in bed sometimes,” he said, pulling just centimeters away from her mouth. “I do some crazy shit. Sometimes.” “You do?” he asked. He nudged her against his door, making it slam shut, then reached under her dress to pull her panties down. “I do.” Adam beamed like a kid in a candy store, and as the panties went down, he went down with them--falling to his knees. When Trina stepped out of her panties, he wasted no time covering her clit with his lips.  “Oh!” she cried, grabbing his door knob. Adam tapped on her calf and she widened the distance between her legs. She watched his head movements as she felt the tip of his tongue exploring her clit. He looked up at her--the light from his ceiling managing to hit his face just enough to reveal his dilated pupils and the many moles and freckles on his face. She ran her fingers through his hair. “You look so good with your face in my pussy,” she said.  Adam’s dick twitched and he pulled his mouth away to say, “Fuck.” Using his thumbs, he spread her lips open to get complete access to her pussy--already glistening. Then, he dove back in--flicking her clit with his the point of his tongue. He sucked and licked it, and spread her juices on his mustache. Her moans resonated throughout the room, and suddenly, he pulled away again and shoved two of his fingers inside of her. “Fuck!” she shouted. Her knees wobbled from the shock and force of the sensation, but Adam pushed his free hand against her belly--nearly adhering her to the door. “I’m gonna make you come all over my fingers, and then I’m gonna stretch this little cunt open with my cock,” he said, massaging her velvety walls with his big fingers.  “Please, Adam. I fuckin’ need it so bad...” “I don’t know whose been in this pussy since I last saw you, but I’m gonna make you forget they fucking existed...” Trina squeezed the doorknob and scratched at the wood of his door, unable to escape his hold.  He pulled his fingers out, sucked them, then jammed them back in, making Trina squeal and back her ass into the door--desperate for some relief. He splayed his fingers across her abdomen, holding her down even more, and pressed the fingers in her pussy in deeper--as deep as they could go. 

Then, he curled them upward--rubbing the roof of her pussy with moderate “come hither” strokes and not taking his eyes off her face for a second. Trina grabbed his hair and pressed her fingers into his scalp.  Soon, her eyes started to roll back, and Adam grinned. Her grip on his scalp tightened and her mouth dropped, but no sound came out. Adam felt her pussy tighten around his fingers, and suddenly, liquid gushed out of her and all over his hand.  “Fuck yeah,” he said, gritting his teeth. He kept pumping into her. “Give me some more. Give me some fucking more...” 

He stuck a third finger inside and rubbed against her spot again. “Ahhhh!” Trina cried out, flailing about and squirting all over the place. 

“Fuck, Adam, fuck! Stop, stop!” Adam pulled his fingers out and sat back on his knees, watching Trina grip his doorknob and gasp for air. He watched like it was a movie. When she seemed to be calming down, he stood up, kicked off his shoes and undid his pants. Trina looked up at him and pressed her back against the door. She tugged at the skirt of her dress and pulled it over her head, revealing a lacy bra that matched the panties on the floor. Then, she dipped her hand between her thighs, collected some of her cum, and stuck four wet fingers into her mouth.  “Fuck,” Adam grumbled. He took wide steps to his nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out a condom. Then, he sat on the side of his bed and pulled his pants and boxers down, revealing a hard, veiny, and mouth-watering dick. Trina joined him on the bed, lifted her leg, and reached for the fastener on her shoe. “Keep them on,” he demanded. 

He kicked his pants and boxers away, and Trina put her foot back down. She lied back on the bed and teased her nipples. While getting glances back at her, Adam opened the condom wrapper, tossed it onto the nightstand, and slid the latex sheath over his length. Then, he got on top of her, pushed her legs open, knelt between them, and lined himself up at her entrance. “Give me that dick, Adam,” she mumbled, gyrating her hips under him. Adam pressed about an inch of himself inside, getting a good feel of her wetness. Then, with one swift motion, he buried all of himself inside, causing her to strain out a moan and grip the sheets.  “What a fucking slut you turned out to be,” he said. “So hungry for some dick in you.” He pushed her legs back and got a good look at the limbs--the calves; the band over her ankles; the gold stiletto sandals in the air, then he drilled deep inside of her--moaning just as she was in reaction to her slick walls. “You like my pussy, Adam?” she asked. His dick twitched inside of her. “Yeah, I fuckin’ like it...” “Does it feel good?” “Fuck yeah, it feels good. You like my cock in you?” “Yes, baby. It feels so good in me,” Trina moaned. “And you’re taking it so well, too. Look at you...” he mumbled.

Trina grabbed her breasts and began massaging them. “Move your hands,” he said. “I wanna see those pretty tits bouncing.” “I wanna play with them,” she said, refusing to remove her hands.  Adam yanked his dick out and smacked the side of her thigh. “Get on your hands and knees.” Trina pouted and flipped over, resting on her hands and knees as told. Adam pushed her further down on the bed and smacked her ass cheek. He realigned at her entrance and pushed deep into her. Then, he wrapped his arm around her belly and pulled her up, making the back of her body flush with his front. He fucked up into her slow and deep. “When I tell you to do something, you’d better fucking do it,” he whispered in her ear. He gave the lobe a little bite and snapped into her one hard time. “Understood?” Trina didn’t answer. Suddenly, she felt a hand moving up her neck and grabbing her jaw. He gave it a squeeze. “Understood?”  “Yes,” Trina answered breathlessly. Adam pushed her back down on the bed, grabbed her wrists with one hand and held them back as he picked up his pace--thrusting into her and seemingly finding a new spot to probe and explore with each stroke. The mental stimulation that came with having her hands behind her back, and the physical stimulation of her walls being stroked--it all made her clench down on his dick without thought. Her pussy didn’t want to let Adam’s dick go. “Are you trying to make me come?” Adam asked, with a hint of “I dare you to say yes” in his voice. Trina turned her head to the side. “Are you about to come?” she asked playfully. “No,” Adam answered sternly. He began to fuck her harder. 

“Hey, you shut the fuck up, you little tease,” he added, a delayed reaction to her slyness.  Trina giggled and squeezed on his dick again. “Just come, Adam. Just come. You know you want to.” Adam was quiet as he pounded into her a few more times. “Fuck it!” he said to himself. He pulled his dick out and yanked off the condom. Trina sat on her butt and watched him tug on his dick. Then, she moved his hand away, wrapped her lips around the head, and sucked him off. She stroked his length and covered it with puddles and strings of saliva, giving him no choice but to grab her head and push it down, making her gag. “That’s right. Choke on that shit.” She looked up at him with watery eyes. Her lipstick had smeared onto the side of her mouth. “You look beautiful like this. Wish I had a fucking camera so I could take a picture of you.” He pulled her head back, then pushed it back down. 

Garrrrrm! her stuffed mouth said. “No, I wish I had a fucking Polaroid camera. I’d take a picture of you like this and jerk off to it whenever my cock gets fucking hard. Shoot my cum on the fucking picture.” He released his grip on her head, and let her keep working on her own. 

Trina slathered his dick up with her hot saliva and massaged his balls. Then, she began to stroke him as she sucked, slurping and tugging as he moaned and groaned over her.  “I’m about to come right down your fucking throat. You ready for it?” “Mm-hmm,” Trina moaned. She sucked and stroked him harder and faster, until suddenly, she felt his load squirt into her mouth, and she swallowed it down. Adam moaned and whimpered, and fucked into her mouth with shallow strokes, riding out his orgasm. As he came down from his high, he quickly realized that Trina was still sucking him.  “Shit, stop Trina,” he mumbled.  Trina looked up at him with dilated pupils and a mouth still stuffed with dick. She hollowed her cheeks out and sucked him at a rapid pace--putting her neck to work. “Trina, fuck!” he said. 

His knees began to shake, but Trina kept sucking. She rested her hands on his thighs and slurpslurpgarmgarm’d the sensitive meat. She laughed to herself as Adam’s moans went from baritone to alto. As he reached out and grabbed his mattress to soften his imminent fall, Trina maneuvered in whatever necessary direction to keep his dick in her mouth. When he finally made his way down, she hovered over his crotch with her ass in the air, and sucked and sucked and sucked--even as he did the hokey-pokey with his legs and growled like a tiger. 

Finally, she gave the poor guy some relief, pulled her mouth away, gave his dick a slap. Then, she tossed a leg over him and hovered over his red face. His eyes were glistening and wide.

“Should have just let me play with my nipples, Adam.” He laughed between the breaths he was trying catch. Then his eyes fell down to her breasts. He gripped and kneaded them a little, then lifted his head to draw one of her nipples into his mouth.

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.17

Lind A: bring me lunch!

It was after eleven. She should be getting up and opening the dojo. This argument wasn’t quite enough to compel her legs to move from the bed, however, so Nairi lifted her phone and answered the text instead.

What do you want?

Lind A: idk get something you like and we can share Lind A: im at my studio!!

k

The ‘a’ button on her keyboard was sticking something fierce, and the black coating was worn away on the space bar and surrounding keys. Maybe she should get a new phone. She let the blackberry slip back down to rest on her chest as she went back to staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. The blanket was too hot where it was wrapped around her legs, and her shoulder was starting to ache where it had been pressed into her pillow and mattress for too long.

What did she like to eat? What did she like to eat that Linden also liked? Or, well, what was between here and Linden’s studio that had vegetarian options and food Linden liked, was probably the better question.

It was another ten minutes before she could make herself stand up and find a pair of jeans.

Almost an hour after that she’d made it to Linden’s studio, coffee and pastries in hand. Loud music was pumping out the propped-open door, grungier rock floating past the concrete paint can in sharp opposition to the cheerful pop from the last time she’d been here. Nairi stepped inside with her offerings, looking around for Linden.

“Oh hey, I thought you’d abandoned me,” said Linden cheerfully, and Nairi tracked her gaze down to see her sprawled on the floor. She was grinning up at her, hips twisted with one knee folded over her thigh, back pressed to the ground.

Nairi held up the paper bag by way of explanation. “Never. There was just a queue. Are you okay?”

Linden nodded sagely and shut her eyes, rolling her hips back down and shaking out her leg. “I had to pick up a box of glue off the craft shop floor this morning and I foolishly bent with my back instead of my knees, so now I must pay for my hubris.” She groaned as she sat up, taking a coffee from the proffered tray and grinning at Nairi. “Twenty-seven is way too young to even be having these issues, I swear to god.”

“Maybe your back’s just advanced for its age,” said Nairi, setting her tea and the pastries down on an unoccupied stretch of counter space.

Linden got to her feet and laughed brightly as she leaned over to her beat up ipod where it was sitting in a dock on the sill, spinning the volume almost all the way down. She straightened to grin at her head on as she reached out for Nairi’s hand. “Dad always said I was precocious. Come on, I made something for you!”

“Oh, what?” said Nairi, feeling the corner of her mouth twitch up as she let Linden tug her across the studio. “I only just figured out how to hang the last thing you painted me.”

Linden laughed again, letting go of her hand to reach up and pull down one of the two jackets from a hook on the back of the far door. “Well, this one hangs in a wardrobe, so I’m sure you’ll figure that out on your own.”

Nairi looked at the leather being offered to her, then back up at Linden, who jiggled the coat hanger at her.

She took it. It was a heavy, white motorcycle jacket, with two crisp stripes running the full length of the sleeves in red and green. The cuffs were zipped with sturdy silver tabs, and the pockets looked to fall just under the ribs with the same zips as closures. It was high-necked and padded in a way she instinctively approved of, with extra buckles at the neck and waist over the front zip. On the back Linden had painted an ourobouros of a dragon in green and black, its eye the same bright red as the stripe on the sleeves.

“Try it on,” said Linden eagerly, nodding at her. “I snooped in your drawers before I bought the jacket, so it should be the right size.”

Nairi felt her mouth twitch again, and she slipped the jacket on over her shoulders. It was comfortably snug around her arms, and heavy in a way that made it feel like it belonged there. The leather was a little stiff, not yet worn in, and the zip sufficiently toothy so that it took a second try to tug it down again. “It’s great,” she said, looking up and smiling back at Linden. “Thank you, you didn’t have to get me this.”

Linden was reaching up bring down its twin, and she glanced back over her shoulder at Nairi as she pulled it on. “Look, I saw them as I was walking past and I wanted one for me, and then I saw the white and I just hadto.” Hers was dark, crimson like her favourite wine-red lipstick, with thick, soft, elasticated fabric around the cuffs and waist hem. The painted embellishments were little lines of matchstick fires around the wide pockets, and a cherry tree in full blossom on the back, with a vintage style painting of a pair of cherries over one shoulder like a fake patch. “It gave me an excuse to break out the good paints too, the ones I haven’t used since I was a student. I had a lot of friends who did costume shit for theatre, the hardcore kind, it was nice to use them again! And like, I know it’s totally the wrong time of year for warm jackets and I should’ve held out for your birthday ‘cause it would’ve been perfect, but I got excited when I finished them and it’s been hard enough keeping my trap shut while I waited for them to dry.”

“It’s totally fine,” said Nairi, watching Linden give a little spin to show off her jacket before she shrugged it off again. “It’s just an early birthday present. Very early—preparatory, so I don’t have to wait for my birthday once it starts getting cold, and now you don’t have to worry about getting something for the day as well.”

Linden laughed again, ushering her back across the studio towards the pastries. “Oh, nice try, but you’re not escaping the birthday fun that easy,” she teased, picking up her coffee and nudging her broken chair towards Nairi with one foot. “Come on, sit, eat, give me the good goss, tell me how you and Aggy are going.”

“There’s not a lot happening, really,” said Nairi blandly, taking her tea back from Linden and sitting gingerly. The chair held, thankfully, if with a little more bounce than she’d been expecting. “You know, everything’s just kind of… fine.”

Linden pouted over her coffee before proceeding to loot the pastry bag. “Oh, that’s boring though! You two never do anything exciting, and you’ve been dating for like, months now. Seriously, nothing new?”

The impulse to laugh bubbled high in Nairi’s throat, and she swallowed it, wondering briefly where it had come from. “I think I’m okay with boring, honestly. Is your dating life not exciting enough?”

That got a snort as Linden resettled herself to lean back against the counter, raspberry crown in hand. “It’s a little cooled down at the moment, I won’t lie. Like, Simon and I are technically still ‘on’,you know, we’re just not, doing as much.”

“Tapering off, or just laying low from Nicholas?” asked Nairi with a small grin, catching the pastry bag as Linden tossed it to her.

Linden rolled her eyes, taking a drink from her coffee. “Si’s a big boy, he doesn’t need Nick barging in to tell him how to live his life. He’s still fun, it’s just, you know, reaching the point where people start making comments about taking him home to meet Dad and it’s definitelynot that kind of relationship.”

“Because you’re not expecting a ring or because he’s not up to scratch?” asked Nairi, tearing at a croissant.

“Yes,” said Linden, laughing. “Fuck, jesus, I’m nowhere near thinking about that, much less with Si’! That and Dad would eat him alive, he’s got an English degree—the only thing worse would be fine art.”

She hadn’t said it with any malice, so it was probably a normal sort of joke to make? “High expectations to meet?”

Linden grinned wolfishly. “Any partner I nail down better be ready to jump,” she joked with a darkly amused tone to it. “Dad’s good at what he does so he has high standards—typical lawyer shit, you know?”

Nairi shrugged. “Most of the lawyers I’ve met have just been dicks, but I think it’s different when you’re working with them as opposed to like, being raised by one. Is he defence or attack?”

Linden laughed loudly at that, hiding her grin behind her coffee cup again before answering. “Prosecutor, he’s a DA,” she said, sounding a little lighter. “Highest conviction rate in the state, only the best efforts for his job.”

“Damn, alright,” said Nairi, raising an eyebrow. “Kind of a bigshot?”

Linden nodded, setting her cup down. “Yeah, he gets kinda high profile sometimes—I don’t know if you remember a couple of years back, uh, Maxim Bailey? That guy?”

Oh yeah, she’d heard he’d been arrested. Nairi nodded, making a general noise of affirmation, and Linden nodded along with her.

“Yeah, he’s still salty he didn’t manage to get him on the murder charge, despite getting the other convictions,” said Linden, still nodding like a bobble-head. “Caught a little bit of media at the time, too.”

“Hell of a job,” said Nairi. Her thigh vibrated and she set her tea down to tug her phone out of her pocket.

“Stressful, he’s been talking about changing up careers for a couple months now,” said Linden, finally stopping the motion of her head.

Aga D: How’s your day? Any students for the first couple of classes?

She hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek as her thumbs hovered over the buttons.

“Is that your giiirl-friend?” asked Linden, her drawl long and amused, and she lifted a leg to prod Nairi’s knee with her toe, making the chair spin a little.

Nairi glanced back at her phone, tapping out a response quickly. “Yeah, she’s just checking in.”

A couple yeah. Just having a quiet day.

Aga D: I’m glad! I’ll let you get back to teaching and stop distracting you :)

She tucked her phone away and picked up her tea again, suddenly not feeling much like eating anything.

Linden’s eyes were unreadable over her coffee, but she was smiling when Nairi looked at her. “That’s nice of her,” she said with a funny note in her voice. “I’m really happy for you two, you know that right?”

“Thanks,” said Nairi, shuffling her unappetising croissant back into its bag to avoid Linden’s piercing eyes. “I’m, um. I’m glad you both, sort of, uh, adopted me? Even if it’s in different ways. It’s been good. Really good.”

She covered her expression with her tea, not really tasting it as she drank. Why had that been hard to say?

Linden’s mouth twitched at the corner, just a hint of her normal dimples. “I’m glad you let us,” she said warmly, and suddenly her eyes were back to normal. “You looked like you could use a couple of friends when we met, and god only knows Agatha needed a relationship that actually worked out after her streak.”

“Yeah?” said Nairi, leaning to set the pastry bag back on the counter.

Linden nodded, giving her a rueful look. “Yeah, I mean, she told you how we met, right? Her boyfriend of like, ten years or some shit was one of my regulars, and when she found that out she showed up on my doorstep in tears, it was kind of fucking rough.”

“Oh, damn,” said Nairi, for lack of anything better. Ten years?Agatha had left that out.

“Yeah,” said Linden with an exaggerated grimace. “I mean, fuck, I’m pretty mercenary when it comes to cheating and the job, but even I felt bad. I helped her do some vandalism on him, and then I introduced her to Flo and some nice single people who helped her figure out she was into women, so like, it all worked out eventually, but it was kind of a rough time for her, you know?”

“Yeah,” echoed Nairi, feeling the pastry sink to the bottom of her stomach. “I’m glad it worked out, in the end.”

“Like I said,” said Linden, nudging her again with a wink and a smile, “she just needed someone like you to swoop in and be the good, stable girlfriend for her.”

Her tone was light and teasing, and Nairi made herself swallow more tea before she answered. “Right, yeah. I don’t know how ‘good’ I am at the whole, Prince Charming thing.”

She’d been trying for a joke, but it fell flat between them.

“You’re doing fine,” said Linden, her tone softening a little, and she looked at Nairi with earnestness in her eyes. “Seriously, Princess. You’re doing fine.”

End of book 1.

[bird-in-a-cage]

18 or 45! 💖

Thank you for the prompt! Sorry it took me a while to get back to you but I’m sure this will more than make up for it. Also two in one day? Look at me go!

My ask box is always open if anyone wants to drop a prompt from the list or just spout an idea off the dome!

I’ll get around to doing both. But here’s one just for now.

#18: “This is… exactly what it looks like”

Sailor Boy

Billy knew Steve’s routine as if it were his own, written all over his arm in permanent ink. He knew Monday was inventory day, Tuesday was delivery day. Wednesday and Thursday were Steve’s days off. Friday and Saturday Scoops Ahoy stayed open late, to coincide with the mall’s longer opening hours due to the movie theatre on the top floor, owners of the nautical based ice cream franchise clearly hoping that maybe movie goers would want to sneak in a cone or a tub mid flick.

Friday was when Billy finished early. His last swim class was at three. He could easily be done by five, shower just enough of the chlorine smell off his skin, change and be parked at the mall by six. He had taken the same route so many times now he could do it with his eyes closed, knew every stop sign, the rhythm of the traffic lights. How the cops liked to hide behind that low billboard on Maple to catch potential speeders heading out of town.

Even if he’d spent all of Thursday with Steve, rolling around his parents fucking mansion like the both owned the place, Friday was Billy’s favourite day. Friday he got to see his little sailor boy at work. Steve hated his uniform, he wasn’t shy about ever saying so. Hated the dumb hat, hated the dumb shirt that got itchy after two days of wear if it didn’t get washed in between, hated the socks he had to wear up to just below his knees that would constantly fall down, hated the fact his whole uniform felt wipe clean even though it wasn’t in the slightest. The one thing Steve hated and complained about most though, were the shorts. They were long and baggy and unshapely.

“It’s like wearing a sown up trash bag man, honestly!”

Billy loved those shorts. He loved the deep but not navy blue of their colour, he loved the white stripe that ran along the bottom of each cuff, he loved the deep pockets than ran much further down Steve’s thighs than they had any right too, he wasn’t carrying all that much around with him day to day, but most of all Billy loved the elasticated waistband. Always hidden almost halfway up Steve’s stomach the shorts were so big on his skinny frame.

Well, not skinny. Just skinnier than Billy. Steve still had plenty of muscle definition even if he was eating spoons of ice cream all day now, stealing maraschino cherries straight from the jar and rolling them with their juice in little cups of chocolate sprinkles, swearing blind he’d invented the greatest semi-healthy snack of all time just because at one point it had been a fruit.

Billy also knew that 6:15 was when Steve’s little work friend, that smart mouthed girl with too much eyeliner, went on her final break even though the store shut at eight. He knew to time it so good that sometimes he’d stroll in and Steve would still be talking like it was still her.

This day wasn’t one of those days. He strolled through the big open doors, that stupidly cheery music playing on a constant loop that must have driven Steve completely mad sometimes, to find him scooping up ice cream to display on their tubs. The place was dead. It always was. No one ever left the movie theatre mid picture to come down two floors just for ice cream, when the concessions were right outside. He kept scooping and piling even though Billy knew he had seen him. The corners of his lips twitched just a little then damped back down. Hiding a grin. Billy could play this game. He leant over the counter, pressing his chest up to the glass, knowing it would smudge just a little. No longer perfectly clear. Streaked with the last stubborn remnants of suntan lotion a crappy public shower couldn’t remove. Steve raised his head after a few long minutes into their stalemate and was still trying not to smile.

“Sir,” Oh he had on his customer service voice too, Billy loved that, it made the game more fun and he couldn’t hide the grin it caused to grow on his face. “Can I help you with anything?”

“That depends,” he pushed himself off the counter and slowly started spinning around the container of rainbow sprinkles, unscrewing the cap. “I’m looking for something specific.” He sucked on the tip of his finger and rolled it in the first layer of sprinkles until his fingertip was completely coated. Billy knew Steve hated when he did that. Both hated and loved it. Hated it because it was kind of disgusting, but loved it, cause, well, Steve was kind of disgusting. Under all the rich daddy’s boy front he was willing to try some kinky shit and Billy just drank up every last drop he could squeeze out. Billy wiggled his sprinkle coated finger around, watching Steve’s eyes follow it around like fish to bait, growing darker by the second.

“Well, I think I can be of some assistance….” he spoke calmly, and walked around more to the side of the counter. Billy matched his steps. He wasn’t quite over the invisible ‘employees only’ line just yet.  They locked eyes and Steve’s were nearly black with desire. He took Billy’s hand in his cold ones, they had just been in a freezer after all, and he pulled gently. He popped Billy’s sprinkle covered finger into his mouth and let his eyes get hooded, in the way he knew drove Billy crazy, especially when that perfect wide tongue started cleaning up the sugar speckled digit and with his pretty boy pout sucking further down to the second knuckle, then the third with clear intent, firm muscle sweeping back and forth and around Billy’s rougher skin, rendering his brain fucking mush every time.

Steve let the finger go with a wet, but soft, pop, letting his eyes open again. Billy glanced a look down and there was a definite tent in those hated shorts. They both crashed together at the same time, kissing feverishly as Billy pushed and Steve pulled, both of them stumbling through the swinging door and up against the wall next to the always empty notice board. Billy pinned Steve up to it, knocking the cap off his head in the process as they kissed deeper, licking into each other’s mouths and sharing the taste of chemically coloured sugar. Steve’s needy hands found Billy’s hips easily and pulled, hard, letting out the sweetest little desperate moan as Billy’s thicker thigh found its way between his own. Billy let Steve’s lips go, kissing over his jaw heavily, and moved his leg higher, tighter, to ring out more delicious sounds. 

His little sailor was always so cute trying to be quiet, especially at work, but Billy knew him inside out. Had made it his job to know every button Steve Harrington had, how and when to push them, which threads to pull at to watch him completely unravel. One of the first things they ever did, out in the quarry in the back of Billy’s camaro, Steve had humped his thigh like a bitch in heat. Steve loved his thighs. He was never shy in showing so. They were one of the big flashing buttons to push, to the point of Steve couldn’t come to the pool if Billy was on shift or risk popping a semi then and there just seeing a flash of red covering not very much leg.

Like this though, pressed up against the wall, Billy had all the control. Steve was pliant, warming his cold hands on Billy’s sun soaked stomach under his shirt, going over his abs with needy thumbs. Billy worked his thigh harder. Steve groaned biting his lip so not to let it all come streaming out loud and hot. He started grinding his hips at long last, all the layers of fabric between skin doing nothing but adding deliciously painful friction, as Billy nibbled his earlobe. 

Yeah, Harrington had a lot of buttons. And god if they weren’t fun to press.

Deep down Billy wanted to ruin Steve for good. Even if what they had, whatever it was, wasn’t a long term plan and just a way to blow off steam for the long hot summer months, Billy was determined that no one would ever rock his little sailor’s boat like he could. No one would ever make Harrington come like he could, no one would ever make him cry out in the middle of the night with his peachy ass burning with hand marks like he could, no one would make him choke on a cock behind the arcade in broad daylight where they could be seen at any moment and still have those swollen come shiny lips beg for more like an angel’s prayer like he could.

Whether he knew it or not, Steve was going to be ruined for the rest of his days.

Billy growled next to his ear possessively. His sailor melted and ground his hips harder, starting to get desperate so soon. God if that didn’t make Billy’s dick kick something horrific in his jeans.

“Needy tonight huh baby?” Billy grunted roughly in his deepest voice, the one he knew that if Harrington had a pussy, it would make him gush buckets and ruin those shorts. “Did I not do a good job filling you up yesterday?” Billy pulled Steve’s hips off the wall to get his hands on that perfect peach, where he knew it must have been difficult to sit down all day, what with how red and sore it looked the night previous. He felt Steve’s hips stutter for just a moment, hissing around a moan as his body wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or pain or both it wanted to express. Billy wanted to laugh. He did keep singing harder god please harder so had no one but himself to blame for the mess he was in.

“Too good,” Steve sighed out as Billy worked his hands down the back of that elasticated waist, past his own briefs Steve had stolen that morning, grabbing handfuls of tenderized meat and squeezing rough. The noise Steve made was exquisite, his hips starting to rock again faster and stronger, pushing forward and pushing back in equal measure with no set rhythm. Billy loved when he was like this, his little plaything, teetering on the edge of no return.

“Let me see baby,” he muttered, dripping with heat and desire. “Don’t wanna get your uniform all messy. Captain will be mad.”

Steve scrambled to push his shorts and briefs down just enough for the thick, gleaming head to pop free but the rest still be trapped and untouched, pushing his shirt up over his stomach, fingers trembling and lips quivering around a sound that couldn’t be kept quiet as Billy’s sucked on but now dry digit found his sailor’s well used hole. His cock throbbed visibly between them, pushing out more shiny clear liquid that threatened to stain Billy’s pale denim jeans. God it made Billy’s mouth water. And if he wasn’t rock hard before he definitely was now.

But later. That was for later. They were running out of time.

Billy worked his thigh harder still, trying to keep up with Steve’s erratic hips which was no easy job, drinking down his noises of pure ecstasy, until his whole body stuttered and tensed and he came with a cry that couldn’t be contained, creamy white come splashing up his torso and staining his already pale skin. Billy smirked like the devil, kissing Steve deeply as he tried to pant coming down, taking his hands out of his boy’s shorts, only just managing to tuck him away and let his shirt fall over the mess when the door swung open and there was eyeliner girl, right on time. As always.

Steve had the dignity and had regained just enough mental function to look embarrassed, even if he was still panting like a mutt trying to speak with Billy all up in his space, greedy for it all. No one laid eyes on his sailor boy.

“It’s… fuck… I’m sorry Rob…” 

She stared back blankly at the two of them, setting a Burger King milkshake, if Billy had to hazard a guess it would be strawberry flavoured, on the counter they had back here, simply saying “You’re scraping the freezer tonight,” before going back through the door from where she’d came.

Billy didn’t let Steve stand back up straight away, even as he knew the messy spatter of come was starting to dry and cause the uniform to stick to his slender body. He cupped Steve’s cheek and kissed him, rough but sweet. As sweet as Billy did really. Steve melted for it each time. Another button. Another step of ruining.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, getting Steve solid on his feet before letting go and walking away like he wasn’t painfully hard. The girl scowled at him blankly out front, especially when he took a cherry from the jar and grinned with it between his teeth while holding the stem, walking backwards out of the store and giving her a two finger salute from his forehead.

“Captain...”

Billy walked with purpose back to his car out front, having parked in his usual spot near the back where it wasn’t under one of the tall lights that illuminated most of the area, getting straight in to sit on his backseat and wait. He checked the time on his watch and lit up a well needed cigarette.

He had 45 minutes to wait for his little sailor to pull into harbour. 

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 104

104

The Blades had no patience, and Keith’s had run fresh out. He was yet to read his mother’s letter, but she’d given him space and hadn’t tried butting in on his life, so for that he was grateful. He was finally allowed back at work, “on light duties”, meaning he was playing desk jockey and doing more of the planning towards missions. He’d liked to say he enjoyed himself, but paperwork sucked and Lance was too busy with Lotor to do much. Though. He had done one crucial thing. Coming to meet Keith after “training” with Lotor, and his generals, his boyfriend had kind of been too full of energy to sit still. Keith did not enjoy the way Lance talked about the thing he talked with Lotor, despite the fact his boyfriend was being open and honest with him. Four sessions with Lotor and Keith wanted to skin the vampire alive for spending so much time his Lance. Lance hadn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t off having some illicit affair with Lotor. Their training was filmed, Keith could even watch if he wished, but the whole thing filled him some ugly growth that sat in a lump in his chest thanks to it. Lance had decided after the third two-hour session that Lotor had given him enough tips to practice at home, the fourth session being the last over the ten day period. Lance declaring it happily as he threw the briefing room door open bounding in. Hyperactive and handsy, his boyfriend threw himself on him, Keith smiling like a moron as Lance nuzzled into him, pressing kisses to his cheek. The news couldn’t have come sooner as his boyfriend kissed his cheek then dashed off to check in with Allura and let her know the good news... leaving Keith to realise he had no idea where he’d been in the stack of purchase orders before him.

Being a desk jockey came with perks, that he was fully taking advantage of. Without being awake at obscene hours, he was able to talk with their friends more, instead of Lance and Pidge alone, due to her insomniac ways. Plus, he’d been going back to Lance’s for the night when his boyfriend had to make the drive back the following morning. Lance was welcome to crash at the apartment, yet his lover wanted to work through the things he’d done with Lotor in their training sessions in the yard where it didn’t matter if the grass was pulled up or things broken. Lotor thought Lance was wasting his potential, but Lance stuck to being as human as possible, meaning Lotor had to fall in line with him.

That’s how he ended up on a double date after that fourth training session. A double date was something he’d never actually ever believed he’d have to suffer through. A double date he could have probably handled, maybe, had the other couple not been Allura and Lotor. Seeing he was busy with paperwork, Lance had gone to catch up with Allura, then the next thing he knew, for some unfathomable reason, that had turned from hanging out into “Hey, let Shiro know you’ll be out tonight because we’re going out with Allura and Lotor”. His boyfriend wasn’t on the ”Team Lotor” bandwagon, he was on the “If Lotor touches Allura or looks at her the wrong way, I’m going to castrate him” team.

And god if it wasn’t the most awkward five hours of his life for the month. Relying on Lance to help him piss after the accident didn’t come close to how awkward an evening with Lotor was. Opera. Keith did not do opera. He wasn’t completely sure he understood why the main character suddenly regained her strength to then go and drop dead. Lance and Allura clutched each other as they cried over her tragic demise... and for some reason the opera kept going! What was this fresh hell?!. Lotor seemed vaguely bored, and Keith had spent most of the time making silent bets with himself over how long he could his breath. He couldn’t use his phone, the screen would be glaringly obvious in the blackness of the theatre. Fuck it. He needed the bathroom and doubted he’d be missed. Allura was holding hands with Lotor, not like how Keith was holding Lance’s hand in his lap, thumb rubbing the back, enjoying the touch and that alone, but like holding hands all the same.

Turning towards to Lance, he nudged him with his knee, Lance raised his head to smile at him. His boyfriend was so damn pretty. Okay. Maybe they were a little loved up. Lifting their hands, Lance kissed the back of his. Keith enjoying that much more than what was happening on the stage. Bumping Keith with his knee, Lance gestured with his chin

“I need to use the bathroom, babe”

“Oh, sure. Me too, actually”

Thank god. English conversation with no singing. He was amazed by the skills and that production it’s self, but the issue came from the fact he didn’t speak Italian, and the story writer had no clue how to write.

Finding himself following Lance to the theatre bathroom, Keith was clueless. Lance walking over and waving his hand under the tap sensor. There was something familiar about the two of them hiding in bathrooms

“Why am I here?”

Here, as in, “Why the hell were they being tortured slowly?!”

“So Allura and Lotor could have a moment”

How did they need to be there to... never mind. They were being good friends

“You could have saved me sooner. Do you actually have to pee? Or are we just staying here until Allura and Lotor have had their moment”

It was kind of hard to have a moment at the opera. Keith’s arse was numb and his leg stiff. A headache was building in his temple... ugh. Nope. Opera was not for him.

“I was trying to make Allura feel less self conscious about us being there. She was so nervous about tonight. I couldn’t say no to her”

Lance did that... Took care of everyone. Fine. He’d forgive him this time

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“She can handle herself... but at the moment, I’m more concerned about you. I’m sorry I decided for us both. I know you don’t like him”

“It’s fine. You’re being a good friend”

“It’s not really. This isn’t really us. I much prefer you, us, in our pyjamas, mocking horror films”

Lance said that, but he deserved more

“Babe, I don’t know how to do fancy... If I... If you want to do fancy... I mean, I can try”

Lance must have reassured him so many damn times over him not being rich and smart.

“I know, but... I also love the real you. Pidge hates the opera too. Colleen tells her she’s a disgrace to her Italian heritage. But Hunk’s pretty cool about coming with me. You... don’t mind, do you? I mean, I haven’t been in a long time....”

Now Lance was rambling. Rambling and playing with the tap sensor like he could trick it

“It’s fine. Are you okay? You were crying pretty hard when she snuffed it”

His boyfriend snorted, shaking off his wet hands and before wiping his face to rid himself of the tear tracks. Smiling at him in the mirror

“Yeah. You know me and tragic love stories”

“I don’t think I got it. I mean. She died and they kept singing”

“It’s alright. Nah, I’m okay. Just wanted to give Allura and Lotor a moment, and kind of wanted a moment to check in with you... this bathroom’s pretty nice”

It was a bathroom. All grey marble and matt gold. What did it matter as long as it did it’s purpose

“I suppose so?”

Lance snorted. His boyfriend letting his old man show

“I can take the hunter out of the practical, but I can’t take the practical out of the hunter”

“If you say so. How long are we supposed to wait for this moment to be over?”

“I don’t know. Like 5 minutes. Allura was super nervous. Lotor burned her in the past and she definitely hasn’t forgiven him”

“Couldn’t she just work him for the information?”

“She could, but she’s got to protect herself too. She’s fae, and there isn’t that many of them left these days”

“I feel like she could take Lotor”

“Yeah. But then there’s Honerva and Lotor’s generals to think about. I don’t like Narti. Acxa seems okay. I saw her talking to Krolia”

“Maybe she’s planning on jumping ship”

“I’d jump ship too. I swear I’ve never had to tell someone “No” as many times as I’ve told Lotor no over using ego”

“I can’t believe that I can’t believe he brought us to the opera”

“I can. At least I won’t have to see him for a bit after this”

Crossing his arms, Keith kicked the marble floor with the tip of his shoe

“He can fuck off”

Laughing softly, Lance came over to him, wrapping his arms around him. His boyfriend smelt like soap and spilt alcohol. Lotor had gotten them champagne delivered to the private box they were being tortured in, he’d offered Lance blood to add to his, yet his boyfriend wisely declined

“I know you’re not happy about it. But, I think I have a plan to turn back next time I’m a bat... I can’t say for sure though”

“You didn’t tell me you figured that out”

“I said “I think”, Babe. Anyway, you know I know you haven’t had a fun time lately... so I was thinking after this, we grab some pizza and go watch the stars”

“Why are you always trying to bribe me with pizza?”

“Because I’m a pizza kind of man, and your kind of man”

“I fail to see the logic... but that sounds so much better than heading back with them. I want to burn his stupid limo”

Lance kissed his hair

“You only get to burn it if I get to douse it first”

Keith shoved Lance off playfully, he couldn’t keep the laughter out his tone

“I’m shocked! What happened to my sweet law abiding boyfriend?”

Lance was so cute when he scrunched his face up with laugher

“He fell head over heels for a bad boy...”

“Are you saying I’m the bad influence?”

Wiping small tears from his eyes, Lance hugged himself tightly with his right arm as he nodded

“Oh, totally. Matt says I’m completely unbearable when you’re not around. All I do is mope and long for you”

“Matt met you after you met me”

“I know. He smacked me with a pillow last night and sent me to bed too, reminding me I’d be here today... like I could forget”

Keith reached out, grabbing Lance by the arse to pull him close, his boyfriend automatically looping his arms over his shoulders, laughter turned unexpectedly serious as Lance rubbed his forehead against Keith’s. He loved this man so damn much... the hunter hated that sometimes he couldn’t help but need him to tell him that

“You really miss me that much?”

“Babe, I miss all of you like all of the time. Literally the best thing about getting up early to come to Platt is seeing you”

“So you don’t come to Platt just for the opera?”

“Nope. You really don’t like the opera, do you?”

Keith shook his head. Sitting in the dark, with the only light coming from the lights on the steps and stage, he could easily picture vampires feeding in secret. Maybe they should have had a vampire kill the lead, it would have been exciting then

“Not at all... But I kind of feel it’s very vampirey”

Lance replied, overly heavy on the sarcasm

“Yeah, babe. Completely vampirey. Like, didn’t you, the opera is in our blood. Why do you think the theatre is dressed in red velvets? To hide the blood, obviously! We’re drawn to it, seeking out our next hit. I don’t really go back to Garrison... oof!”

Stepping on Lance’s foot, his boyfriend shut up. Lance didn’t to rub it in that he was way smarter than him

“I get it. I’m uncultured”

Lance nuzzled into him, sensing his teasing had dropped his mood further

“Other than stomping on innocent feet, you’re cultured enough. Seriously though. Allura never said opera. She said dinner. And I was like, we can do dinner... And now I’m like “Please God, let Coran call with some emergency””

“Hey, you’re the one who’s suddenly friends with Lotor”

“No I’m definitely not. Nope. He taught me some stuff, mostly about vampire culture and it’s whack. He keeps going on about ego and quintessence and I can do more things if I tried. I got a stitch last night thinking about having to train today. I seriously threw up last time”

He didn’t know about that. Lance shouldn’t be pushing himself that far. How had his boyfriend had time to come from practice to him, with a stop to throw his guts up and brush his teeth on the way?

“My poor baby... Did you miss your big bad boyfriend?”

Lance whined at him softly, nuzzling into him as he did

“Yes, give me sympathy. Seriously. I’m thinking of stealing his phone and finding a way to lure Sendak back to pick his brat arse up”

“Tell me about it. They’re off raiding a place tonight. I had to do the stupid paperwork. I don’t know why. Kolivan comes and takes it, then that’s that”

“I’m sorry you’re still benched”

“Nah. I’ve got something to do with my time...”

“Do you think if we’re good tonight, Lotor will finally help?”

“I think you’re more delusional than me... someone’s coming. We should head back”

“Nooooo...”

He was happy hiding here!

“Now who’s the baby. I’ll buy you an ice cream if the confection stand is still open”

“Lactose”

“Fuck. Fine. If the opera isn’t over, then I’ll call Coran and beg him for a pick up”

“We need an excuse to leave”

“Then I guess I’ve finally found a reason for you deciding you needed to be banged up”

“I think I can support that. Those seats aren’t comfortable”

They didn’t need an excuse. The opera had ended, people milling into the theatre’s entrance hall. Leading Allura along, Lotor made his was through the crowd and over to the pair of them

“We thought you’d left”

His tone was cold, like they’d disappointed him by not

“I’ve got a headache and Keith’s stiff from those chairs”

Allura immediately took the reason as her chance to let go of Lotor’s hand. Moving to Lance, she placed her hand on his forehead

“You do feel warmer than usual. Perhaps we should head back for the night?”

Lance played along

“I don’t want to ruin your evening”

“Nonsense. You’ve been pushing yourself again. I’m sorry, Lotor. We really should head back. Lance may be going into heat again”

Lotor scoffed

“I doubt it. Yet, in any case, we shall return if that is what you wish”

Wanker. Keith tugged Lance up against him. He was supposed to be their excuse to leave, being a weak and lowly human. Not Lance. Lance was good about it. Their prayers silently answered

“I think it’s for the best. I really am sorry to interrupt your night”

“Nonsense. Your health is more important than dinner. You’re both very important to me”

So was escaping Lotor apparently. Unpleased, and outvoted, Lotor swallowed down his snark, though made it very clear he was unhappy as he swept ahead of them. Allura not disappointed at all as she winked at them. Hopefully this wouldn’t bite them in the arse.