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1kook · 4 years

Text

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

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atlafan · 4 years

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Lake House Tattoo - One Shot

a/n: so my birthday is in a couple of days, and I think a lot of you know I write about piercings a lot, but don’t have any major ones of my own...or at least I didn’t UNTIL TODAY! Finally got my belly button pierced yall! I wanted my nose done, but it’s not safe to do so yet, so I got the next best thing. Anyways...the guy that took care of me was really nice, and made me want to write a little piercer!Harry fic. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: FLUFF!

Words: 2.3K

Y/N was a simple woman. She worked a 9-5, regular old office job, and she liked it enough. She had a great group of friends, and a relatively normal family. There wasn’t too much to complain about. She was well past her wild college days, but as her twenty-fifth birthday was approaching, she wanted to do something that she felt was a little out there for herself.

A lot of her friends had different types of piercings. She only had her ears pierced. She had two sets in her lobes, and a simple stud in her cartilage. But her friends has some of the cooler ones, some had their noses pierced, and others had their belly buttons done. Bingo. A belly button piercing would be perfect. It was the little bit of defiance she was looking for, but it was also discrete. Maybe for any other person it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but it was something her mother was adamant about not allowing her to have as she was growing up, which was annoying because it seemed like everyone had it.

“Will you please come with me? I’ll need someone to hold my hand…” She asked her best friend, Maggie.

“Of course! But I promise, it won’t hurt that much. Where are you getting it done?”

“Lake House Tattoo, the piercer came really recommended from some friends at work. I wish I could have my nose pierced, but it’s frowned upon.” She sighs. “And another ear piercing isn’t outrageous enough.”

“Plus it’s discrete like you wanted. Are you going to tell your mom?” She giggles.

“Maybe some night if I get drunk enough and work up the courage. I’m about to be twenty-five, I’m an adult, I don’t live at home, she can’t say anything.”

A couple of days before her birthday, Y/N and Maggie drive out to the tattoo shop. It was on the top of a hill on the coast. The piercer, Harry Styles, came recommended by just about everyone she spoke to, so it was worth the almost hour long drive. Plus, it was a beautiful day out so the girls didn’t mind.

They both walk in, and step up to the counter. There were a couple of people sitting behind the desk. One of them had sleeves on both of his arms and those really large gages. His hair was buzzed short and bleached blond. The other man behind the counter had brown hair with soft curls. It was pulled back by a red bandana and a small clip. His left arm had a ton of tattoos, and his right only had a few. He had a small hoop in his left nostril, and that was all Y/N could see for piercings.

“Hello, I have an appointment at two…I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, the belly button, right?” The man with the bandana says. “I’m Harry, you’ll be with me.” He smiles and then squints at Maggie. “Are you getting anything done?”

“Um…no.” She says.

“Alright, you’ll have to out here, I don’t allow more than one person in the room.”

“But she-“

“Sorry, thems the rules.” He says as he stands up to place some papers on the counter. “Need your license and for you to sign some things.”

Y/N swallows and hands him her license and then signs the forms. She slides the papers over to him and he puts them in a folder. He hands her back her license and comes around from the counter.

“I’ll be right out here when you get back.” Maggie gives her a reassuring smile.

“Ready?” Harry asks.

“Yeah.” Y/N says nervously. She knew it wasn’t going to be that bad, but she didn’t do well with needles, and she knew she was going to be a little bit exposed to a stranger so her nerves were shot.

She follows him down the hall to a staircase, and up they go.

“So, a little birthday present to yourself, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s nice, hope I can add the special experience.” He smiles and gestures for her to head into the private room. It was small so she understood now why Maggie couldn’t join.

“Alright, sweetheart.” He says to her softly. He must be able to tell she was nervous. “I’m gonna take really good care of you, okay? I like my customers to be happy.” He goes into a closet and pulls out a container of different piercings. “Pick your favorite.” He pulls on some gloves. “Just make sure to look, not touch.”

Y/N nods and peers into the container.

“I like this one, the darker clear jewel.” She points to it.

“Ah, so the electric pink isn’t your thing?” He jokes and grabs the piercings she wants. She laughs nervously as he sterilizes it. “So…” He looks her up and down. “You’re not going to want to wear anything high waisted for a while, and you can’t go swimming either.”

“Okay.” She looks down at herself, now feeling stupid for wearing a tucked in short sleeve shirt with high waisted shorts. “I’ll be able to wear these low, it’s no problem.”

“It’s a popular trend right now.”

“They’re just flattering.” She laughs nervously again and he smiles. She watches as he puts something on a q-tip and he looks at her.

“Are you wearing a bra with that?”

“Um…yes?” She had to be blushing by now.

“Could you just tuck your shirt up in it?”

“Oh! Sure.”

She pulls her shirt up and does what he says, and then she lowers her shorts a little. He moves to stand in front of her and then he dips down to his knees, swabbing whatever is on the q-tip in and around her belly button. Y/N was sweating. She knew he must do this a million times a day, but it certainly wasn’t every day Y/N had a cute guy get on his knees in front of her.

“Just cleaning you up, sweetheart.” He must have notice her flinch when the q-tip hit her. “There we go.” He smiles up at her and stands to her feet again.

He sets the bed down so it doesn’t look like a chair anymore for her to lay on.

“Okay, hop on up and lay down for me.”

She nods and does as he says.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m excited, but I’m really nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart. Like I said, I’m gonna take really good care of you.”

Y/N was screaming internally. She wanted to tell him to keep calling her pet names. For whatever reason it was relaxing her. His was voice was also deep and he had a nice British accent, so it was all just very soothing.

“I’m just going to squeeze here for a second to get the area ready.” He pinches down right at the top her belly button.

She flinches involuntarily when he first touches her. Y/N’s stomach was sensitive, it always had been. She takes a deep breath once he’s done. She looks away when she sees him grab the needle.

“Alright, now you’re going to feel the needle.” He says as he presses it through her.

She gasps, biting her bottom lip and pinching her eyes closed. It was over before she knew it, but shit she hated needles.

“Dis great sweetheart, all done. Just need to crew the top of the jewel on and clean it up.” He smiles at her.

“Thanks.” She lets out a breath.

She flinched every time he touched her stomach. He gets the top of the jewel on and cleans the area up. He explains how long it’ll take to heal, and since it was summer it was fine to go in the water, and he touches her lower stomach at about where she could go up to.

“Just don’t be in there along, especially if it’s a lake.”

“Yeah, stagnant water is pretty gross.” She giggles.

“Exactly! No baths either, just as gross. If you’re in the shower it’s okay to get it wet, just don’t let it get beat under the water, yeah?”

“Okay.” She smiles up at him.

“I’m just going to put my hand on your shoulder so I can lift this back up, and I just want you to sit a moment.”

She nods and her eyes flutter closed a moment as his hand reaches her shoulder, and she slowly sits up. She feels the pinch of the jewel as she does so and winces. She can see it in the mirror before her and she smiles.

“Like it so far? You’ll be able to see it closer in a moment.”

“Yeah! Thank you so much.”

“Oh, my pleasure.” He grabs his card and hands it to her. “Okay, now for the aftercare, this is really important.” He goes into the closet and grabs a can of saltwater spray. “You’ll want to get some little paper cups and q-tips, first thing in the morning and before you go to bed you’ll clean it out. Then a few times a day just spritz it with the spray. The less you touch it the better. These heal from the outside in, so it actually takes six months to a year for it to heal altogether, and then you can change the jewel all you want. You’ve got my card, so please, call me anytime if you have questions. The only stupid question you could have is the one you don’t ask.” She giggles at that and he smiles. “Take my hand, I’ll help you hop down.”

She does so and slowly gets off the chair. She blinks a few times, but she’s alright.

“Lightheaded at all? That can happen afterwards.” He gives her hand a squeeze.

“I think I’m okay.”

He nods and lets go of her hand. She steps closer to the mirror so she can inspect her new piercing, and she beams at herself.

“It looks so good, thank you so much. I’m so happy with it. I’ve wanted this for a long time, and it feels great to have it done.”

“I’m so glad you like it. I like when my customers are happy. Come back and see me anytime.”

“I will.”

He leads her back down the stairs with her to ring her up.

“Do you live around here?” He asks as he gets the order together on the computer.

“About an hour away, why?”

“Well, that’s the only aftercare spray I trust and they sell it locally here.” He gets up and grabs a couple of more cans for her. “Take these on the house.” He winks at her. “But promise to come back for more when you run out.”

“I promise.” She smiles and puts them in her bag with the other can. “Thank you.”

“That’s be sixty altogether.” He slides her the receipt. “Gotta fill that out before I run your card, sweetheart.”

She leaves him a twenty dollar tip and gives him his card. He smiles big when he sees the tip and runs the card. She takes it back and puts it in her wallet.

“All set, Y/N?” Maggie asks, coming up to her. “I was just looking around at the shop.” She points towards the room where people could buy piercings and studs.

“Yeah, take a look.” She lifts her shirt slightly so her friend could see.

“It’s so cute! Love the jewel you chose.”

“Thanks.” Y/N looks at Harry. “Well, if I ever need anything else pierced, I’ll certainly be back. This was a great experience.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I also do tattoos if you feel like being especially brave.” He smirks.

“Definitely won’t be coming in for that, but another piercing for sure.”

“Fair enough. Remember, if you have questions, my number’s on the card.”

“Thanks, I’ll definitely reach out if I need to.”

He nods and watches her leave. She hands Maggie her keys, not feeling up to driving.

“Oh god.” She says as she sits down. “Definitely going to take some getting used to.”

“It’s an adjustment for sure. So, was he as short with you upstairs as he was when we first walked in?”

“Not at all! He was super nice, he kept calling me sweetheart. Oh my god, Maggie…”

“What?” She chuckles.

“I got so nervous, before we got started he, like, knelt in front of me to clean me up…”

“Oh, that’s hot.”

“I wasn’t expecting it at all. I know it’s just part of the job so it’s no big deal on his end, but-“

“How often does a guy get on his knees?”

“Exactly! It was…intimate. He made me feel really comfortable. I nearly lost it when he started talking about aftercare.”

“You’ve read one too many erotic novels, Y/N.” She laughs. “He seemed pretty adamant about you calling him, maybe you should find an excuse.”

“He did ask if I lived around here…but that was just to make sure I had plenty of the cleaning spray. He gave me two extra cans for free.”

“You should ask him if you’re cleaning it right, like, explain to him what you’re doing, and then just see where the conversation goes.”

“It’s probably just the shop number…” She looks down at the card and her eyes grow wide. “Oh my god…he wrote in pen and put his cell number on it!” Her and Maggie squeal. “Okay…maybe I’ll call him. He’s really cute.”

“Plus…it’s kind of hot that he works at a tattoo place.”

“Super hot, I don’t know what it is about it. I wouldn’t mind hearing him call me sweetheart again. I wonder how often he does that.”

“Guess you won’t know until you call him.”

“I guess so.” She smiles and bites her bottom lip as she looks out the window. Best start to a birthday ever.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #tattooartist!Harry #piercer!harry

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Californian Dream (Pt. 10 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.5 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

<- Previous part (09)

Next part (11) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

Home

“It won't take long now,” Billy mutters, his hand holding yours are you both walk through the beach. Everyone is at the snack bar, eyes on the TV, getting all the details about the most famous gang being finally arrested. “Your father will call and you can go back home.”

“I know.” Moving a strand of hair away from your face, you look down as the ripples reach your feet. “I'll go. Spend the night there and on the next morning I'll tell them.” The plan comes up suddenly because that's the best you can give them. A last night in the house before moving out for good. “I'll tell them I'll drop out of college and look for something I really wanna study. That we're dating and I'll be living with you.”

“Are you sure about this? Because you know they won't let it go that easily.”

“I know and I don't care.” Stopping, you move to stand before him, cupping his cheeks. “I mean, you still want me to live with you, right?”

“I do.” Leaning closer, Billy kisses you, soft and slow. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you tiptoe. “And I need you to know that I won't accept the money your father said he'd give for... Sheltering you.”

“Baby, you can accept it. I don't mind.”

“I can't. Having you at my place was... It is amazing, all the money in the world wouldn't be enough to pay for what you gave me.” Biting your lip, you smile at his words, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“You're so romantic.” In a sassy tone, you step back when his face changes, ready to run if necessary.

“Just don't tell anyone,” Billy whispers, and, in a sudden motion, he moves forward, arms around your waist, lifting you up.

“I won't!” You exclaim, laughing as he spins you around before setting you down again. “It'll be our secret.” Whispering on his ear, you giggle when a bigger wave hits your calves.

“I guess the future talk will happen sooner rather than later.” He states, pulling away before another wave soaks your skirt even more.

“Yeah... I guess so.” Clearing your throat, you blush a little to remember what he said earlier. “That, Uhm... About kids.” Wait. You shouldn't bring that up. It's way too soon, and be was probably kidding. “I mean, let's get real first. I'll drop off of college and focus on my job. I like it and maybe choose another course I like. Mmm... That's pretty much it. You?”

Billy gives you a look, shaking his head lightly. Trying to dissimulate with Billy is useless. You're an open book to him, you have been since day one. “Neil was a devil of a father. And I want to be better.” His voice gets darker at the mention of Neil. You don't know the man, but you hate him with all your strength for what he did to Billy. You hope you'll never see him face to face, or else you won't be able to keep from breaking his damn nose. “Of course I never actually thought of it before, but now... You just... You messed me up, ok? In a good way, but still, you messed me up and now I'm making plans.” Rolling his eyes dramatically, Billy sits down on the sand, and you do the same, climbing on top of him. “And that's all your fault.”

“My fault? I wasn't trying to make you fall for me.” Defending yourself, you push him down until he's lying on his back and you're lying on top of him.

“If you were trying, I'd have fallen for you when you gave me that lemonade.” He places a kiss on your nose, making you giggle. “Or even before, when I saw you walking around the house... Avoiding me.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I noticed that, princess.”

“Well, I couldn't talk to you and risk sounding like a complete idiot.” Taking both his hands, you hold them down on each side of his head, ignoring his cocky face. “And it's your fault for being so good looking.”

“Hey, hey! You two!” A yell gets your attention, and when you turn your head to see, you find Stacy and Anne. “We're watching you.”

“Creepy.” You mutter, moving off of him and back on your feet. “But guess the party isn't over yet, and honey, I want to dance.”

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't dance with my lady.” In a quick motion, he's back up, arms around your waist as you make your way back to the bonfire.

•••

It takes three days until your father calls you. He doesn't say much, just that the gang is arrested and it's now safe for you to go back home.

Home. That house isn't home, but you comply, not wanting to make them sad or anything. So it's after lunch when Billy is driving you there, not a single thing with you. You didn't even bother to bring a bag to fake it. It'll be only one night, and then you'll sit and talk to them.

When you're moving through the gates, the same feeling you once had comes back. You feel suffocated, surrounded by all the things you don't care about. There will be a few people over, and they'll get into those meaningless conversations again, and they'll be looking at you, judging you. They'll talk about your clothes. They're normal, not insanely expensive. No... Your mother will make you go upstairs and change immediately. The lump in your throat only surrenders a bit when you feel Billy's hand on your thigh.

“You'll alright?”

“Yeah, just... Thinking about tomorrow. I'll talk to them, get my car, and when you're back from work, I'll be there.” That's your goal. That's what you're so damn excited for. Tomorrow evening, which will be exactly like the evenings you've been having for months. And you love every single one of them.

“I can't wait.” He gives you a glance and smiles. Your smile. The one that's not cocky and doesn't have a hidden meaning behind it. Not a sassy one. Just a bright, beautiful, genuine smile, that lights up his whole face.

The moment he stops the car by the front door, you get separated. You knew this would happen, so you're prepared. After hugs, tears, and welcomes from both your parents and the sea of people here, your mother guides you upstairs, making you change into a white dress with sunflowers. You don't complain, you just do as she says. For the last time.

Back downstairs, you see Billy and your father talking by the door. He tries to hand Billy a piece of paper, a paycheck probably, but Billy refuses. After a while, Billy leaves, but not before glancing at you. You know it's only for a short period, but you feel like part of your heart is going with him.

“(Y/N), honey?” Your mother calls. “Won't you answer Mrs. Vanner?”

“Oh, yes...” Shaking your head lightly, you try to focus on... Whatever they're talking about. “Sorry, what was it again?”

“I'm sure you're happy to be back home after so long having to live in such a small space.” Mrs. Vanner says, her fake, wide smile making it really hard not to roll your eyes.

Of course they know where you were now. Mother had to tell them, just for the sake of the gossip. “How can you possibly know the size of Billy's apartment?” You snap, not really trying to keep the sweet tone.

“Oh, please. Mr. Hargrove is the man who washes my son's car. How big can his place be.” She sounds so gentle, so plastic.

You should keep your mouth shut. You should play along, keep up the act until tomorrow morning, just until tomorrow morning. But you can't. You lost the ability to fake it. “Yeah. It is small. Your ego wouldn't fit in it.”

“(Y/N)!” Your mother exclaims, almost choking on her drink. “Where are your manners?”

“That's alright. Living with someone from a different class may have her used to different kinds of behavior.” Mrs. Vanner snaps, in an apologetic tone.

“Something we can agree on!” You exclaim, giving her a big smile. “That's a first.”

“(Y/N), that's enough.”

“I agree with that too.” Putting your drink down, you stand up from the armchair. “I'll head upstairs and rest for a bit.” Without saying anything else, you walk away, the high heels echoing through the empty spaces. But you stop in the middle of the stairs to kick them away before running to your bedroom.

But of course, there's a hell of a dinner. And, of course, you have to be there, nodding and smiling, pretending to pay attention to whatever they're saying. With your leg bouncing under the table, you play with your fancy food. Your mind floats back home. To the apartment. Billy is probably home already, eating what's left of the lasagna you made together yesterday. That lasagna is so much better than this boeuf bourguignon you're being forced to eat.

“Are you excited to go back to college, (Y/N)?” Mr. Eleanor asks, and you silently nod. “I bet you'll be an amazing lawyer just like your father over there.”

“Yeah.” Until they find you a rich husband and you have to abandon your career to turn into a housewife, with nothing to do but to administrate the house and spend rivers of money on useless things.

The dinner goes on for endless hours, and the small get together after has you exhausted. When you excuse yourself, getting to your bedroom, you fill up your tub and spend an hour or two there, trying to relax in a house that doesn't feel like yours anymore. It never did, but now, that feeling is amplified since you found a place you feel at home.

By the time you're in your pajamas, lying on the bed, it's way past midnight. The chattering died and everyone left, but still, you can't sleep. Kicking the sheets away, you get to your feet, walking to the balcony and breathing in the night air when you push the slide door opened. Billy fixed your railing. He was here before you even exchanged a single word with him. And you wish he was here now. With you. You didn't know exactly why you couldn't sleep, but now you do. Billy is always holding you, one way or another, and hugging the pillow doesn't compare. Is it what love is? Losing the capacity of falling asleep away from the person you love? Stepping forward, you let your fingers touch the cold metal, a smile coming to your lips.

California never felt like home. Until you found Billy.

Giving your huge garden a look, taking in the green grass and threes under the low lights, eyes wandering through its extension, you smile. And, in the blink of an eye, you know what to do.

The car keys are in the same place you left them, in a small vase on your dresser. Taking them, you put on the first pair of flats you find, having the decency of trying not to make too much noise on your way out. But you don't care, not anymore. On your way downstairs, you halt on the last step when you see Amelia, in her nightgown, coming from the kitchen with a mug in her hands. She's a little startled and confused, but her expression softens after a while.

“Don't try to stop me.” You say in a low voice.

“Are you going to be with Billy?” She asks, but by the look on her face, she already knows the answer. Amelie knows you too well, a lot better than your parents.

“Yes. I love him.” It comes out naturally, and it gives you a sense of freedom you can't describe. Saying it, here, is amazing.

“Then go, bunny.” Amelia smiles, and you rush to give her a tight hug before making your way to the garage, straight into your pink Cadillac.

You never enjoyed driving as much as you do now that you're going somewhere you wanna be. The streets are only half empty, and you decide to put the top down to feel the night air on your face, only to put it up again when you reach the parking lot. There are a few spaces, thank God, and you park on the first one you find, running up to Billy's apartment, panting after the six sets of stairs leading to the third floor.

But it doesn't matter. You're at his door, and it doesn't matter. You have the key, but the whole keychain is inside, so you have no choice but to knock a few times.

And when the door is open, a very sleepy Billy seems all confused, as if he just saw a ghost. “(Y/N)?”

“I couldn't sleep.” You simply say, keeping your voice as low as you can despite still trying to catch your breath.

His confusion fades away, and a smile takes over. “Me neither.” Stepping forward, Billy wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you inside with him before pushing the door close and crashing his lips on yours.

This was the right decision, as crazy as it seems. When Billy kisses you, you know that everything you did that led to this moment was right. He's pulling you to the bedroom when the phone rings. The damn thing has the bad habit of interrupting you.

“Let me–”

“No. I know who it is.” Cutting him off, you pull away, walking over the phone. You don't think much before answering it. “Hi, dad.”

“Wha– (Y/N)?” He stutters, and your mother says something on the back about her being right. “What the hell are you doing there? Your mother went to your room and you were gone, she almost had a heart attack!”

“I'm sorry. I'm at Billy's.”

“Why in the hell are you there? Get your ass back home now.”

“No.” You state, crossing your arms.

“What do you mean by ‘no’?” He scoffs. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Father, I'm an adult and I know exactly what I'm doing.” Taking a deep breath, you run a hand through your hair. “We have a lot to talk about, and I'll explain everything, I promise. Meet me tomorrow in your favorite restaurant at noon.”

“What? I won't–”

“If you want to know what's going on and why I came back here, you'll go. Tell mother to go as well. Have a good night.” Without allowing him to say anything else, you hang up. Turning to look at Billy, you sigh. “Call in sick tomorrow, because I'll need you with me.”

“I have a couple of days off I can use, don't worry.” He comes closer, pulling you into a tight hug. “I'll be right there with you.”

“They'll say all kinds of mean things, you know that, right?”

“I don't care.”

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon @clockworkballerina @infinitelycharmed23 @lilred91

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy stranger things fanfiction #billy stranger things imagine #billy stranger things #imagine stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction

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unrelenting-jazz-hands · 3 years

Text

He picked the wrong seat.

(This is something that’s been floating in my head. I love college!AUs and I’m just happy to be here. I like the idea of Levi studying to be a social worker and Hange being a behavioural Neuropsychology prof/researcher. plus Hange would have rats... this fic is just a place for her to have rats and rat friends.)

He didn’t know it when he first sat down on the couch, but he should have known it when a woman in maroon sweatpants staggered up to his couch.

She placed the tower of books and papers she was carrying onto the couch with a grunt that let on how heavy the pile had been. She shook out her arms before sitting on the other side of newly formed blockade. Levi glanced her way and leaned over to throw a scowl, to make sure she knew the disruption was not appreciated.

But she just sat quietly and read. So, he didn’t move, he figured it would be fine. He should have moved.

And she just sat quietly and read. So, he didn’t move, he figured it would be fine. He should have moved.

"Hange! Hey, Hange! There you are, why didn't you answer your phone?" A young man jogged over to the woman sitting on the couch next to Levi.

Levi's scowl deepened, and he glanced at his watch, not for the first time in the last 15 minutes. His own class finished over an hour ago, but Isabel's lecture wouldn't be finished for another 45 minutes. It was getting late, and as the air grew colder, the nights were getting darker. He didn't like the idea of her walking home alone at this time of night. Furlan thought he was being dramatic, they weren’t on Understreet anymore.

The kid approached the couch and dropped his bag unceremoniously at her feet. He looked a little older than Isabel. Fuck, he was dreading the day she introduces some dumb boyfriend to him.

The woman slowly looked up and seemed more startled than she should have been to see the kid in front of her. She blinked and looked at her watch.

"Oh, it's 6:45 already? Hey Jean! Sorry, I lost track of time." One of her hands was still on the stack of books that was starting to lean just a little too much for Levi's comfort.

He shifted away and glanced around the room. The atrium was busy and noisy. There wouldn't be anywhere else to sit this side of campus on a gloomy September night. The choices were to either sit here or to stand somewhere like a weirdo. He grumbled to himself and looked back down at his notes.

Jean shrugged, "All good, Hange. But, where's your phone? You didn't see my messages?"

Hange looked down at the report in her hand as though she expected herself to be holding the phone. "Oh... I thought I had it." She attempted to pat down her jacket pockets (of which there were far too many) and then tried to use her foot to move her bag towards her.

Glancing up at the kid with a slight frown, "what's up? Why? Did something happen at the lab?"

"No," Jean said with smile, "Armin was just asking what time he should tell his tutorial the kick-off party starts. And then just to say that the slides for the lecture tomorrow look good."

Levi watched out of the corner of his eyes as Jean bent down to help the woman check her bag for her phone and mumbled, "We really should get you a case you can clip to your belt or something…"

"A-ha!" Hange raised a fist clenched around a flip phone, and then suddenly, she was holding it with two hands.

Her pile of books had had enough and was about to topple over when Levi's arms shot out to steady the tower before it collapsed on the brunette. She hadn't even noticed.

He didn't mean to catch the books before they fell. He really hadn't planned on moving at all; the books weren't even falling his way. It was her own damn fault if she didn't notice. But, his body was just too used to moving quickly to catch pictures, mugs, and lamps before they could reach the floor. It wasn't a coincidence that they didn't have many breakables in the apartment, what with the way Isabel was constantly twirling around and Furlan's sleepwalking.

When Hange did notice, a few seconds later, she let out a startled yelp and attempted to use her whole body to steady her library.

"Shit, no! That's making it worse," Levi said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He steadied the pile again and kept his arms holding it up for a while longer before shooting a glare to the airhead next to him.

"Sorry, sorry!" Hange said with a laugh. She grinned at him from around the books, "thanks a bunch, though! Wild reflexes!"

He rolled his eyes, "You just weren't paying attention."

She raised an eyebrow and cracked a grin, "what? Were you staring at me?"

Levi felt his cheeks go warm and diverted his gaze from the woman's laughing eyes.

"No, I wasn't," he said curtly, "I was just sitting in the fucking danger zone."

He made sure the books were steadied before he picked up his notebook again.

The kid in front of them coughed and shifted around uncomfortably. "Thanks, man," he said while giving Levi a quick once over. "If those textbooks go down, all the paper she's stuffed into them would have ended up everywhere. It took hours to match the notes up to their text pages again."

Jean reached over and started restacking Hange's stuff on the floor while she held on. She still looked like she found the whole thing much too funny for Levi's liking. He decided not to look her way.

"You should really organize your shit better," Levi mumbled, keeping his eyes on his paper.

Hange leaned her head back against the couch, "aww, man... that's what everyone says. I've tried, guys! It just never lasts." She let out an exasperated sigh.

Jean muttered something too quiet for Levi to catch, but Hange nudged him with her foot and shot him a look.

"Well, enjoy carting around half the library then..." Levi shot her way and that, he hoped, was their last interaction.

Hange looked down at Levi's open binder, which was neatly labelled and visibly well organized.

She let out a small "huh," before turning her attention to the kid again.

"Alright, Jean! Well, the kick-off party starts at 8:30 at the Wallflower. I'll head over after my lectures and locking up the lab." She frowned, "wait, why wouldn't people join? Puppy therapy is always super busy."

Jean sighed and leaned his head to the side, "yeah, but Hange. I mean, the hype just isn't the same with rats. Plus, the lab is intense and the hours for the regular meetings are kind of random."

Levi frowned at his notes. What the fuck? Fucking weirdo...

Hange sighed, "yeah, you're right." Then shot him a bright grin, "But! I swear I'm about to get a big grant to really kick it all up a notch! We're really getting somewhere, and we can maybe take on a few more assistants next semester to help with all the data entry that's going to need to happen!" She was basically bouncing.

She paused and looked around the room quickly before returning her fiery gaze back to Jean, who was looking a little frazzled.

"And get this, Jean Boy, I've been working on something with Moblit. I can't get into it right now, but it could be really big if it all goes according to plan. Like really big!" She was bouncing again. Her hand gestures were getting more exaggerated and much too close to Levi's personal space. He decided to just lean away and scowl instead of getting dragged into another conversation.

Jean narrowed his eyes, "Wait, like big for you and research nerds or big as in normal people big."

Hange grabbed his hands, "like brand new wing big. Like the Rat Pack Club goes on vacation big."

Levi was still looking at his notes. He had to admit he was starting to be a little more curious than he was annoyed. She was trying to whisper but wasn't doing a very good job at it. God, it was like she didn't know how to be quiet.

"Wait, so this is something you're working on with Dr. Berner? I thought you were still heartbroken from him switching labs," Jean asked while trying to take his hands back. "Is he back?"

Hange shook her head, and her smile dimmed a little, "no, my ride or die still over at the Medical Imaging Lab in the comp sci building." She perked up and continued on, "But! It may have worked out for us in the end!"

Jean looked a little less tired now, "huh... well, when can you tell us about it? Who knows about it?"

Hange let out a low chuckle, "uh, well, don't tell anyone. It started as just a little side project for Moblit, Nanaba, Nifa, and me. We didn't expect it to really go anywhere. So keep it to yourself, for now, I'll let y'all know when I can."

Jean nodded. He looked determined and, suddenly, a lot younger than he had a minute ago. He gave a mock salute, "you got it, Doc!"

Hange mirrored his salute and gave him a wink. "Awesome, ok! Oh, also, did you have any questions about tomorrow's lecture?"

Jean shrugged and shook his head, "nah, I looked it over, and it's pretty chill. Cog Psyc was a fun course."

Levi glanced up and looked at the top right corner of his notes. Intro to Cognitive Psychology.

"And that's exactly the vibe we want this semester! Fun!" Hange exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

"Yeah… ok, fun. I can do that," Jean mumbled. "I'll tell Armin," he said as he turned to go. The kid waved lazily over his shoulder, "See ya tomorrow, Hange!"

"Get home safe, Jean! Tell Sasha and Connie I say hello," Hange waved to the back of the kid's head before leaning back and slouching down.

"Rat Pack Club goes on vacation. Ha! Take that monkey brain," Hange muttered with a smile. She closed her eyes like she getting ready to take a long nap in the middle of the atrium, which was getting less busy as time went by.

"Oh!" She exclaimed and shot up and turned to face Levi with a much-too-bright smile, "I forgot to introduce myself!"

She stuck out a hand that was covered in ink smudged. Levi felt the corner of his lips fall and held back a snarky comment; he really was trying to be less pissy, as Isabel put it. He sighed and reached out to shake her hand. He had hand sanitizer in his pocket.

"I'm Zoe Hange, but please call me Hange! Nice to meet you, and thanks for saving my books!"

Levi nodded, "Levi." He went to take his hand back, but the weirdo was still shaking it.

"You're taking Psyc 221 tomorrow, right? That's awesome. I hope you're ready for a heckin' good semester, Levi!" Hange was still shaking his hand.

"Yeah. Yeah, it sounds great," Levi mumbled as he jerked his hand away from her grip.

"Is this your first semester here? Transfer student? Do you live on campus? What courses are you taking?" Hange kept going as though he looked happy to be there instead of inching away and gathering his papers to leave.

"Second semester here, transferred from Wallrose College," Levi muttered. He didn't want to admit it, but Hange's enthusiasm was putting him on edge. What the fuck was she on?

Hange nodded enthusiastically, "That's great! Welcome, and if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask! I'll be your lecturer for PSYC 221. My lab's down in the Neuro wing, so feel free to stop by if you have any questions!" She pointed down the hall that had a staircase at the end of it. "I always really enjoy having some older students," she continued, "at least someone to make eye contact with when the kids make a reference I don't know." Hange smiled at him before rummaging through her pocket and proceeding to hand him a business card. He didn't want to take it, but he also didn't want to piss off his professor. Fuck it, whatever.

"I know what you mean. My younger sister is always trying to get me to do these stupid fucking dances for TikTok or whatever the fuck," Levi grumbled out as he looked over the card. His eyes flicked upwards to meet hers.

"[email protected]?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. He didn't let it leak into his voice, but, shit… She had to be a few years younger than he was, and she was a professor and director of a research lab. He didn't want to say he was impressed, but he was. But she was also a fucking weirdo.

Hange nodded and smiled widely. She reached back into her pocket, grabbed the card back from Levi, and scrawled something down with the newly retrieved pen. The pen was labelled, pocket pen.

"Yeah! It's the email address for the club I started with some students. My research lab has been doing some behavioural studies with rats, and it's hard not to fall for their little paws and their little eyes. So, every now and then, we get together and hang out and chill with some rats. This Friday, we are having our kick-off party. You should stop by!"

Hange handed him the card back. It had a time, a date, and an address.

"This is more of a social gathering at a bar near campus, not really a regular meeting. It's mostly just a bunch of research assistants and a few of us old folk having some drinks," Hange shrugged, still smiling. She wasn't done, "the usual meetings are chilling with the rats and throwing around ideas. Sometimes the students pitch us some experiments, and then we give them feedback."

Levi didn't think he would go. To the meetings or the party tomorrow. Hell, he knew for sure he wasn't going to go. Still, he nodded and muttered out a half-assed, "sure."

"Plus! The kids don't stay too long at the parties. They eventually head out after a few drinks to the next destination to get trashed where their profs can't see them. So it's only rowdy for a little while. It's been a while since I made it to the second location. I'm not that old, but I'm not that young anymore." She laughed lightly, and Levi was caught off guard by how pretty the sound was.

"I can't Fridays," Levi said as he pocketed the card, "I work Friday afternoons."

Hange nodded, "It's 8:30 to late-thirty, so stop on by if you want! Or if you know someone who'd-"

She was cut off by someone dropping their bag onto Levi's lap.

"What the fuck?" He started, looking up with a scowl. Of fucking course it was Isabel. He looked at his phone and saw 5 missed calls.

"Dude, what's the point of having a phone if you never answer it," Isabel said with a little more sass than Levi was used to. His brow furrowed. He'd ask about that later.

"Don't be a shit," he said gruffly, but still more gently than his usual tone. She made him worry like that. "My phone was on silent."

"Hi! You must be Levi's sister! He mentioned he had a younger sister." Hange stood up and grabbed Isabel's hand with a smile, "I'm Hange. I'll be your brother's professor starting tomorrow. Should I be keeping an eye on him? I feel like he's going to give me a hard time." Hange gave Isabel a wink and a smirk, which the younger girl returned. She looked a little less tense than she had a minute ago.

"Pfft, Nah. He's pretty bland." Isabel replied and shook Hange's hand with significantly more enthusiasm than Levi had. "I'm Isabel. Thanks for engaging with Mr. Grumpy here. He usually just sits there like a weirdo."

Levi stood up and thrust Isabel's bag back into her arms, "Ok, time to go." He turned on his heel and started walking away at a brisk pace.

Hange shouted out, "bye, Levi! See ya tomorrow!"

Levi waved over his shoulder but stopped when he didn't hear Isabel following behind him.

Isabel was still standing next to Hange, who was staring at her pile of books. He groaned and made his way back to the couch as Hange leaned down and tried to pick up the stack.

He placed a hand on Isabel's shoulder and attempted to steer her away.

"Isabel let's go," Levi said.

The young lady shook her head, "Nah. I'm catching a ride with some friends. We're gonna go get some food before heading home! So don't worry about me!" Isabel gave him a look and gestured towards Hange, still mapping out a game plan. Levi pretended not to notice her look and shot her a glare of his own.

"Isabel. Dammit, why did you tell me that before I stayed till the end of your classes?"

Hange let out a chortle and glanced up at them, "Ha! Classic. Have fun, kid!"

"Well, since you don't need to worry about me," Isabel said sweetly, "you're free right now. Hange, let Levi help you with this!" She shoulder-checked Levi and stuck out her tongue at him with a grin.

"I'm sure she's fine," Levi said.

"Oh, man! I would so appreciate it!" Hange all but yelled, standing up suddenly. Her head smashed right into Levi's chin, making them both groan and bring their hands up to their respective injuries.

"Dammit, four-eyes. Be fucking careful," Levi growled. He shot Isabel a look, but it didn't stop her giggling. He was losing his edge.

"Ok, bye! I have my phone, and it won't be on silent!" She waved and hurried off in the direction of the exit. There was a group of girls who waved, laughing, before walking off together. Levi let out an exasperated sigh, but he was happy to see she was making friends. She deserved it.

Groaning, he looked back down. Hange… was just sitting on the floor, next to her pile of books. No, she wasn't just sitting there. She was reading a book.

"Yo, four-eyes. You want help or not."

"Hmm?" She looked up as though unsure of who was talking to her. She blinked her big, brown eyes and then smiled. Her lips formed a little oh, and though she only just remembered where she was. "Oh, yes! Sorry, I got side-tracked there for a minute. How's your chin! I'm really sorry about that!"

She stood and reached out to touch Levi's face.

He took a step back, "You were just touching the floor. I don't want you touching my face!" He felt his cheeks warm up a bit and shifted his gaze. He picked up most of the stupid, fucking books.

She chuckled and reached down to pick up the rest. She looked at him with a grin and replied, "that's a fair point, Shorty."

"Shorty?" Levi all but dropped the books. "Whatever, Four-eyes," he said and stormed away.

He heard some undignified sputtering as she tried to think of a comeback. He smirked. Good, she should feel bad.

"You just called me Four-eyes? What, I can't call you Shorty?"

"Not when I'm doing you a favour," he shot back. " And after you try to break my face!"

"No! Come back, Shor- Levi! I mean... I mean, come help me, Levi," she sounded whiney. He wasn't sure if he liked that sound.

He turned around and saw her trying to pick up the stack again. He let out a sigh and dragged his feet back to the fucking weirdo, again.

"Oh my fucking god… Why do you even have this many books with you?" He said gruffly as he took an armful of the offending items.

"Research!" Hange exclaimed as though it was obvious. She started to walking away at a surprisingly fast pace.

"What the fuck, slow down, weirdo," Levi said. In-fucking-credible.

"Well, come on then!" Hange said, glancing over her shoulder. "My office isn't too far away."

It sure felt like it was, though.

After winding their way through the halls and then down several sets of stairs, Hange finally unlocked a door and turned on the lights of her office. It was absolutely filled with books, with stacks of papers covering every surface. She shuffled into the room, stepping over a few plastic boxes, and placed her cargo on her chair. It was the only surface that had any space. Hange motioned for Levi to hand her his share, which she placed on the ground, next to the chair.

"Fuck, Hange. How the hell do you ever find anything?" Levi said, unable to hide the growing frustration from his tone. He didn't like clutter, and he really didn't like this room. "This is a fucking mess."

"Oh, it's not that bad! I can find what I need eventually!" She waved her hand and flicked off the lights. Hange picked up two plastic boxes, letting out a small grunt as she did so.

"Alright! Let's head out. Close the door, would you?" She nodded to the open door.

"What's in the boxes?" Levi asked, shutting the door. He had no idea why he was still here. Why was he still here, talking to this lunatic. God, he shuttered thinking of the stacks of paper in that little office.

"Oh, just old notebooks that I need to shred, some speakers I need to donate, and then a lot of rat food to bring to the shelter."

He had forgotten about the rats.

He looked over at the tall, lanky woman. She was obviously struggling. Shit.

"Give me those," he muttered as he took the boxes from her.

She let out an audible sigh as she shook out her arms, "oof, thanks a bunch! Ok, it's over this way!"

Levi glanced her way, "what is?"

"My apartment!"

He felt weird about this. He didn't know this person. Well, he did, or he would know her. Tomorrow, anyways. It still felt weird. He wasn't sure he really knew why. He nodded silently and followed her.

He paused when he looked down.

"Are you wearing fucking crocs?"

#levihan #college!au #levi is a loving older brother #and Hange is a delight #I’d carry her books #a mess but I hope u like this mess #aot #attack on titan fanfic #fanfic #levihan fic #myposts

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sammy-gvf · 4 years

Text

We get along (for the most part)

Chapter One.

OC x Lee Bodecker

Warnings: None for now. Just some cursing.

Plot : The local rebel badass girl and Lee Bodecker have had run ins, lets see how it goes, shall we?

MINORS DNI !!!!! Eventually this story will get 18+. I dont feel like getting in trouble because of you. Thanks a bunch.

Evan Rachel Wood ( Across the Universe 2007)

( personally in my head this is what she would look like but you can interpret her anyway you want!)

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My name is Margaret Lane, well Maggy. 22. Born May 2nd 1947.

The resident bad girl, don't worry, I gave myself that nickname.

I have lived in this tiny, middle of nowhere town my entire life. Same people, same gossip. There's no escape. No matter how hard I try, something always stops me. I live with my parents and little brother here in Knockemstiff, Ohio. My parents and I have a mutual understanding of “you go to work and come home and then we don't talk”, which is fine with me. My little brother is the only one I can really rely on. He is 17 years old and he is really the only person in my family that I can really talk to. I mean, I have friends but they aren't living in the same house as me. Not yet at least, we are thinking about moving out all together.

High school is where I built my reputation, of course. Used to sneak around with Arvin Russell, which led me to meet Lee Bodecker. Sneaky ass sheriff used to follow my every move, making sure he took every opportunity to bust Arvin and I any chance he got.

Had nothing better to do than to bust on teenagers who were sneaking out to their parents, what a loser. Along with gaining some parking tickets and speeding tickets along the way, we became acquaintances. Thinking about the future, I was dying to leave this town. Never got the chance to after high school, hopefully I will as soon as i'm done college.

I can say whole heartedly that I do NOT enjoy Lee's presence. That man memorized my license plate number. Stops me all the time, for no reason.

Flashback

It was a warm saturday evening, about 7pm. I had just got some college work done. Figured it was too nice to just sit inside, right?

I get up out of my bed and put my school stuff in my bag, walking over to my closet to put on a pretty yellow flowy dress and grab my leather jacket, that'll go nice with the breeze coming in through my window.

I put my hair up in a bun and slip on some keds, something easy ya know?

I turn off the light in my room and walk into the living room where I see my father asleep on the couch, I walk over to the counter and grab a little piece of paper and write “going out for a drive, be back soon” and put in on the table in front of my father so if he wakes up, he knows where I went.

I actually have a lot of freedom compared to other girls my age, many girls my age are looking for husbands and/or their parents are trying to set them up with someone. My parents know who I am, I was so against having an actual boyfriend so I just slept around. Obviously, people at church got wind of it but I didn't really care, to me men are there at my disposal. I play the field for my own reasons.

I grab my keys off the door in the foyer of my little house and head outfront.

I head down the steps of my house and waltz towards my red little 1964 Ford Mustang. Worked for it all by myself.

Getting in the car, I pop a cigarette in my mouth and light it up. Keeping the cigarettes in my car was my best bet, my father would kill me if he knew I smoked these things. Turning on the car, I throw in a Led Zeppelin cassette, immediately Whole Lotta Love starts playing. What a good song to drive to.

I put my windows down and start driving down a long road where I know for a fact no one drives this time of night, partly because they are afraid of the sheriff, Lee Bodecker.

Lee doesn't scare you, never has.

Blaring music at high volume was what you were known for in these parts and you could really care less about the time and how loud you had it. Music is a really important part of your self expression.

Speeding down the road, cigarette in my mouth screaming the lyrics

You need cooling

Baby I'm not fooling

I'm gonna send ya

Back to schooling

A-way down inside

A-honey you need it

I'm gonna give you my love

I smile and listen to the lyrics, I feel like such a rebel. People in these parts don't listen to this type of music, devil music they call it. They think it has some deep down evil meaning. I just shake it off, they wouldn't know real music if they tried.

I could just leave right now if I wanted to. Drive out of town and start fresh, no one would miss me. Except my brother and friends. They are really the only people keeping me in this dead end town.

The cool breeze enters your hair and you lose your hair tie. Fuck.

“ Damn It” You say as you put the cigarette down and try to look to see where it went. It's nowhere in sight.

“ I have to pull over to get this thing” you think to youtself. It's the only hair tie you own right now.

you light another cigarette and pull my car over to a slightly darker side of the road. You get out of the car and start searching for my hair band, it had to have fallen behind your seat.

Of course, you saw familiar blue and red lights pull up right behind me.

“Fuck me” you mutter as you turn around, shut the car door, kick the dirt under your feet and lean up against the car , patiently waiting for Lee to take his good ol time walking to me.

Lee exits his police cruiser wearing the typical uniform with the typical toothpick in his mouth.

You watch him as he slowly strides over towards you and You roll your eyes at him as he eyes you down, prick.

“Well, well, well, Ms. Lane. Fancy to see you here.” Lee says smirking and laying one hand on your car's trunk. You scoff at him.

“ Hands off the car, Bodecker. Thought you'd know better than to touch what's not yours.” You say looking over at him, taking a drag of your cigarette. Lee scoffs and walks over to you, taking the cigarette out of your mouth and crushing it with his shoe. Your jaw drops and you look over at him in disgust as he chuckles at your reaction to his doing.

“Pretty little ladies like you shouldnt be smokin these, could make ya look ugly” He says.

You can smell the tobacco smell coming off him, the smell of mints sticking to his breath. He is a little closer to you now, you back up and grab your pack of cigarettes out of the cup holder in your car. Bending over, the sheriff gets a nice view of your backside for a split second.

“Sheriff, I would like to respectfully say I do not give a fuck what a man thinks about how I look smoking a cigarette, I am not here for a mans enjoyment. Also, one more pet name and I'm telling your wife.” you say as you light another cigarette and the sound of Led Zeppelin is lingering in the background, Lee clicks his tongue and looks over at you.

“Ms.Lane, you have quite the mouth on you. Not very ladylike for a woman your age.” Lee takes his hat off and leans against your car. He lights a cigarette and stands there for a minute. You look at him confused and you roll your eyes.

“Lee, besides bothering me, do you have a purpose being here right now?” You look at him and say while you take a drag of your cigarette. Lee looks over to you and laughs.

“Well, I just seen a car parked all by itself on the side of the road and I was on duty anyways but then I saw your license plate and figured I'd see why you, little lady, are out all by yourself at this time of night.” Lee says throwing his cigarette on the dirt ground below him.

You turn to look at him and finish your cigarette, leaning against the car still.

“ I appreciate your concern, Bodecker. I am just out for a drive and pulled over to find my hair tie, it came out while I was driving. Pulled over to look around for it, don't want my hair in my face while I am driving. Also, not a little lady. I am grown.” You say turning away from Lee and finding your hair tie, you turn to Lee while tying your hair up, smirking you say

“ Goodnight Officer,also don't follow me again, yeah?” You say climbing back into your car and you slowly pull away.

Lee stands there watching as you climb back into your car, the smell of your perfume in the air invades his lungs, dumbfounded, he smirks and laughs to himself.

“Smart girl” Lee says as he smirks and turns to go back to his cruiser.

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You had noticed sometime down the road that there was a car following you with no lights on, you had just assumed it was some random person but with one certain lick of light you saw the sheriff's face in the mirror of your car mirror. Figuring that out, you went a little faster down the road and then you lost your hair tie, you knew what was coming.

You look in the car mirror to look at Lee. He's already turned his car around and started driving the other way. You werent dumb, you know from the years of Lee catching you sneaking out and drinking and or having boys in your car as a young girl, he knows your moves. It makes you think he patrols these parts so he can catch you doing something dumb one day just to cuff you up and get some control. He never does.

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Two people with reputations in this town.

How bad can it get?

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Hi everyone! Welcome to my first fic! Lee Bodecker is quite the character and I have been wanting to write him for a while. Dont forget to leave some opinons so I can know what yall would want to possibly happen! Dont forget to like/reblog! It would mean the world. I am not sure about my posting schedule but itll most likely be once or twice a week! also let me know if youd like to be added to my tags so I can let you know when I post another chapter!

Tags- @please-buckme , @ladyfallonavenger , @buckysdolls , @nerdy-depressed , @do-not-pray-for-me , @unsentlettersandmore , @local-spacegirl , @youcancallmeishita , @not-another-fangirl , @angelicbabydolll

#sheriff lee bodecker #lee bodecker #sebastian stan #oc x lee bodecker #tdatt fanfiction #tdatt fic #the devil all the time #fanfic #minors fuck off

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

Text

morning fix || k.hj (atz)

➼ pairing: reader x kim hongjoong (ateez)

➼ word count: 4516

➼ genre: barista au; fluff

➼ synopsis: “i’ve been missing you a latte lately.”

You always go to this specific café for your morning fix.

Every morning, without fail, before the start of lessons, even when you don’t have lessons, you always make sure to head to the Twilight Café to grab a cup of coffee. Your friends tease you occasionally, saying that the baristas must add mermaid’s tears or dragon’s blood into the coffee as some sort of secret ingredient, because there’s no other way they could get you coming back for more every single day so religiously. You merely smile over the rim of your coffee cup, thinking “Well, they’re not completely wrong.”

But the secret ingredient isn’t in the coffee.

It’s the barista, Kim Hongjoong.

The handsome young man that is Kim Hongjoong has been working at Twilight ever since you entered the college, but even though you've sat at one of quaint tables by the window side more than once just to admire his dream like features, you've never actually... noticed him in particular.

Most, or might you be so bold as to proclaim, all of the staff in Twilight are remarkably good looking, so Kim Hongjoong had just been another pretty face. Sure, he was one that you might have vaguely recognized out on the streets, but not really one that had stood out to you very significantly.

Until that day.

You'd stayed awake the entire night prior, rushing though your year end projects which had been due the next day. There was a presentation that you had to do today that counted towards your final grade, but winging it with less than eight hours of sleep in the last two days didn't sound very promising. You needed a morning fix before attempting to ... and you needed it fast.

So, exactly five minutes before your presentation had begun, you had dashed over to Twilight faster than the speed of light, panting for a cup of hot coffee over the counter.

The barista, whose face you had recognised vaguely, had looked shocked for a moment as he took in your flustered, unkempt state. You probably looked like you’d been run over by a backing car several times over, with dark bags under your eyes and an even darker expression on your face.

Time had passed by agonisingly slow, drop by drop, as you watched the hot liquid of the coffee trickle into the cup much too slowly for your liking. Every hair on your body was crawling with impatience, the seemingly insignificant ticking of the second hand of the clock on the wall grating on your ears like nails scratching over the surface of a chalkboard, your teeth grinding together as you watched the barista scribble something on your cup-

“Could you please hurry up?” The words came out harsher than you had intended, and for a split second the cute barista flinched from the viciousness of your voice before he managed to pull an apologetic smile together on his face. Quickly, he passed you your cup of coffee, piping hot and smelling of sweet caramel, lowering his head apologetically.

“I’m truly sorry, miss.”

Something had tugged at you, perhaps it was a little bit of guilt, a little twist in your gut, but then the clock and its damn incessant ticking caught your attention before you could say a word of ‘sorry’ to the poor barista. Two more minutes before your presentation was due. Glancing desperately between the young man and the minute hand steadily inching closer and closer to twelve, you made up your mind.

You’d apologise to him next time.

So, grabbing your coffee, you had turned and dashed out of the shop.

The coffee had been amazing, aromatic, fragrant, and ultimately strong and sweet enough to keep you awake throughout the whole presentation. In fact, it had been so good that after drinking it, you had felt absolutely awful for taking out your stress on the barista from earlier. Maybe there really was some sort of secret ingredient in the coffee.

With the resolution to apologise to that poor barista firmly in your mind, you had lifted a hand to dispose of the cup, but before you could let go of it, some ink markings on the paper sleeve caught your eye.

You frowned.

Why hadn’t you seen that before?

Sliding the sleeve out of the cup, you had turned it around carefully to read the writing on the surface. And to your immense discomfort, two very opposing emotions blossomed in you at the same time.

You look stressed, so have an extra sugar to make today even more sweet! I hope everything goes well for you :) Cheering you on!

For a moment, warmth that reminded you of knit sweaters and freshly brewed lattes rose in your chest. Then, you paused, sighed and stared at the innocent paper sleeve for a long second, before tucking it in your pocket, the sleeve feeling unnaturally heavy.

“I really need to apologise to him.”

And so you had.

The first time you’d returned to the cafe, awkward and a little uneasy, he was already there, wiping down the counter with a clean cloth. Luckily for you, the cafe was mercifully empty, most of the student body that used to frequent the place currently at lectures or back at the dorms. Back turned to you, he was humming along to the song playing over the radio, blissfully unaware of your presence. You were tempted to just give up on the plan and run for the door, but you steeled yourself with a determined exhale and clenched fists. No! You had to apologise!

You squeezed your eyes shut and tapped on the bell at the counter.

“Hello, welcome to Twlight Caf-” The barista turned around with a wide smile, ready to greet you... until he saw your face.

For a second, he faltered, nearly dropped his cloth too, before his mouth pressed into a thin, nervous line. Your heart sank, did he think you were here to complain about him, or something along those lines? He tried to force a smile onto his face, but it looked fake, like a mask of clay.

You hated it.

“Excuse me, miss, but is there something you need-”

Sucking in a deep breath to calm your nerves, you shoved a piece of paper forward into his hands.

He glanced down in surprise, he hadn’t expected that in the least. The paper was a crumpled post-it, a little torn around the edges and a little damp from sweat, but the words written on it were clear as day.

A latte, just like how you made it for me that day.

And beneath that, in smaller writing:

I’m sorry.

The polite smile on his face slid right off and for a moment, you were almost worried he might reject your apology. But before you could hightail it out of there with your tail between your legs, another smile, brighter and so much genuine than before pulled at the corners of his mouth, turning his face from show-stoppingly handsome to near radiant like the sun itself.

Then he grinned at you, cuter than a man his age should be able to look, and you swore that your heart sputtered to a stop in your chest for a long, dangerous second.

Oh no.

“One ‘I’m Sorry’, coming right up.” He teased, a smirk playing on his lips, a little mischievous, near devilish, almost, and you had merely stared at him with your mouth hanging wide open, unable to believe that he’d just teased you like that.

When he passed the steaming cup of espresso and milk to you a few moments later, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee tickling the edge of your nose, you had smiled and thanked him a little awkwardly in disbelief, nearly tripping on your way out of the cafe.

And when you glanced at the paper sleeve of the cup once more, you saw the exact same handwriting there, neatly scribbled at the side in black marker.

You need to buy another 50 cups of coffee before I forgive you! See you around, Sugar!

You didn’t know why a furious blush spread across your cheeks at those words, or why a smile tugged at your own lips at the stupid nickname, but you slipped off the paper sleeve off the cup once more as you passed by the trash bin.

And put the sleeve into your pocket once again.

Have an amazing day >.< you can do it! (○｀･Д･´)9

You look down today :((( Have three sugars to sweeten that pretty smile of yours! Don’t forget to brush your teeth tonight, though!

Your smile is sweeter than sugar, but here’s some more to make it even more irresistible! All the best for your interview today!

How are guys just like coffee? The best ones are rich, hot, and can keep you up all night! :D (okay that was embarrassing ignore that i’m not that kind of guy-)

Oh no ;-; you stayed up all night! Don’t worry, I can’t see those eye bags, you still look like you’re going to crush today amazingly! Here’s a cup to start your day off on the right foot!

Why did the coffee file a police report? Because it was mugged :”D (please forgive his bad jokes he was googling them at 3am in the morning) THAT WAS JONGHO IGNORE HIM PLEASE

I’ve been thinking about you a latte lately SAN STOP THAT’S JUST WEIRD-

(ง •̀ω•́)ง✧ nearly at the weekend! You can do this, Sugar! The boys have been teasing me a lot πーπ but hmpf ignore them if they say anything silly to you! Visit the café on the weekends too, I’ll make a special treat for you if you do!

You sit at the couch in your dorm room, flipping through the stack of paper sleeves in your hands fondly. Each sleeve documents the journey of your blooming friendship with the barista behind the counter of Twilight Cafe, the one who works the morning shift and has a smile sweeter than sugar itself, Kim Hongjoong.

Your finger traces the last one fondly, the one he’d given you yesterday as you had rushed to your next lecture. Waving you off with a bright smile, he’d given you a small wink and a grin, one that made your own cheeks flush bright pink and a smile to bloom on your face, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

It’s Saturday today, and you’re blessedly free from any lectures or lessons, a rare occasion. But then again, Hongjoong has indeed promised you a cup of special coffee if you swing by the café, so shaking your head at just how soft you are for that boy, you slip on a pair of shoes and make your way across the campus grounds.

The bell chimes as you push the door open and Hongjoong immediately turns around to grin at you as you enter. Smiling, you slide him a yellow post-it across the counter and he grabs it eagerly, eyes scanning the words with excitement. As strange as it is, you and Hongjoong have actually never spoken a word to each other verbally, instead communicating through your little post-its and paper sleeves.

As much as coffee’s part of your morning fix, Kim Hongjoong has become part of your daily routine, slowly inching his way into becoming an integral part of your life.

I made it through the week thanks to Hongjoong’s special ‘I’m Sorry’ latte! Surprise me today ;)

Hongjoong looks up from the note to salute at you playfully and your heart flutters, before tucking the post-it in his pocket and moving to brew your coffee. Studying the way he moves, you watch his able hands as they work the machine, adding syrup and sugar just the way you like it. But everything he does looks familiar to you, as if you’ve seen it a hundred times (which to be fair, you probably have), nothing out of the ordinary. You cock your head to the side in confusion.

A few minutes later, he sets the cup in front of you, but this time, he’s nervously wringing his hands, fiddling with the hem of his navy blue apron as his gaze darts around, never lingering on your face for long. Then he squeaks out a hurried ‘goodbye’, barely intelligible, and flees into the back faster than you can blink, the other two baristas on shift now, San and Jongho, howling with laughter behind the machine. You’re a little befuddled, but you take the coffee all the same and exit the shop, glancing down at the paper sleeve.

Made with Love. Drink me!

Your heart melts into a puddle of something warm and fuzzy for a second at his sweet words and you smile fondly, raising the tab on the lid to take a sip. Then you freeze in your tracks, staring at what is written there with wide eyes, your mouth falling open.

It’s Hongjoong’s handwriting, alright.

XX XXXX XXXX

Call-ffee (Call me) maybe?

You reach for your phone faster than you ever have in your life, keying in the numbers with the urgency of a life and death situation. The last time he’s spoke to you had been the day you apologised to him, and for the first time in a year, you’re going to hear his voice.

The dial tone cuts off. The call has gone through.

A male voice, jumpy with nerves but still smooth as well brewed coffee, comes over the phone.

“Sugar?”

#ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez hongjoong #ateez #w; hongjoong #w; oneshot

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Note

*cracks knuckles and wiggles fingers in front of keyboard* if it's not to much to ask for mayhaps some brother's best friend with Luke where the reader's brother brings him along and they're S.O. (who hadms beef with Luke) shows up and Luke defends them when their SO makes comment about them. Overall they realize their SO is trash and Luke and them confess feelings :) Also just wanted to say how much ily and appreciate you FEEDING me and fulfilling my requests. You're a gem

Thanks for your patience while I work on this! Reader Insert (Gender neutral pronouns used).

Note: This is the last one this time. Thanks to everyone that participated and sent me requests.

Enjoy my Christmas 2020 Blurb masterlist

Enjoy my full masterlist

____________________

Luke’s boot click as he walks up to the house. It’s familiar, one that he had grown fond of when he needed a place to crash for an hour or two after a night of drinking, or the house he would be at to drink. Because let’s be honest, he could always be a riot especially when he got linked up with friends--especially with you and your brother, but mostly your brother.

He knocks on the door, the night air just barely nipping at his hands as he tucks them back into the pockets of his leather jacket. His can hear the thump of the bass outside the house door. The Christmas decorations have started to come down. The lights remain up the the wreath is gone thanks to the new year just on the other side of dawn. And speaking of dawn, Luke checks the time one more time--11:23 PM. He has been out since nine at night, as he was supposed to hang out with the guys until the new year came in but when Luke’s phone buzzed around 11 with a reminder that there was a second party that he had accepted an invite to, Luke dipped. Sure he could ring in the new year with the band. But he’d see them again in a couple days. He wanted to come by, see how you were doing and hang out with your brother since he hadn’t gotten the chance to see both of you all at Christmas.

“Look you finally showed up,” you laugh. “Took you long enough.”

“I'll have you know that this is my second party of the night. I am right on time,” he grinned.

You laugh. “Very true. Good beers are in the fridge. We’re mostly in the backyard.”

Luke wraps you up into a quick hug. “Thanks for the tip. How’d you hear me knocking?”

“Had to pee. Curse my tiny squirrel bladder. Or maybe in your case, praise it.”

He gives a tiny bow as he makes his way to the kitchen. “All hail the squirrel bladder. Is your brother around? Or has he bailed to the forbidden upstairs with his girl?”

“He and his girls are on the outs. Don’t know how permanently, so he’s in the backyard too,” you explain, locking the front door. Then turn to follow Luke into the kitchen. Your drink was done too, you finished it right before answering the door. It’s totally not the fact that you were trying to avoid your significant other. Who hadn’t even had a drink before they first insulted you at the start of the night. You knew it was probably time to duck out of the relationship, but you just hadn’t found the right words or time to do it.

Luke grabs a beer and holds it over the top of the open fridge door. “Want one?”

“Need something stronger,” you tease and then grab the handle of vodka off the kitchen counter.

“Holy shit, what the hell happened?”

You hear your name bellowed and bouncing throughout the house. You don’t even a chance to sigh at the sound of your drunk significant other screaming your name before they shout it again. “Kitchen!” you holler, slamming the bottle back down.

Luke jolts at the sound and watches your partner barrel around the corner. They single you out with a single digit. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Taking a piss. Letting Luke into the party. Fixing a drink. You know, doing what one does at a new years party.”

“I been looking all around for you.”

“Well, you found me. What do you need?”

The fridge door is a barrier, at least for Luke. He stands behind it, unsure of what is about to go down and mostly because he had forgotten about closing it when your significant other started screaming. But it seems like they were too preoccupied with you to notice him, until now. They gaze up to Luke is slow and the expression goes from bored normal drunk angry to something darker. “Were you fucking him, right here in the kitchen?” your significant other shouts. Their brows have furrowed, frown lines creating wrinkles on on their cheeks.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you return.

“No, no, Jesus. I was getting a drink. I just fucking got here,” Luke returns, stepping back from the fridge and swinging the door close, as if to reveal the fact that no pants were around ankles and they couldn’t have been.

“You’re such a fucking whore.” The insult is thrown at you but Luke feels it in his chest.

Luke steps closer, placing his body between you and your significant other. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He returns, hands shaking around the bottle of the beer.

“You two are clearly fucking and you, you’ve been messing around my back with fucking everyone.”

“I haven’t touched anyone,” your screech in return. “I was taking a piss. I let Luke in and I went to fix a fucking drink.”

“No, but you cheated on me. Because you’re just never satisfied. You don’t think I’m good enough. Fucking town whore, might as well make your apartment the whore house.”

There’s a sharp clink and before you can look up form the counter where the bottle of beer titters and nearly falls another dull thud follows the sound. You look up to see Luke towering over your significant other on the floor. You rush forward and catch the bottle before it falls and get it stable before walking over to the two of them.

“You’re going to fucking apologize and then you’re taking your drunk ass out of this party. Do not call, or text, or come crying back. Get the fuck out of here and stay the fuck away from them,” Luke warns.

“Or what?”

“Go.” It’s only one word, one syllable that falls from Luke’s tongue. You can see his hands visibly shaking. You know he’s not the type to actually resort to physical violence and you’re shocked that Luke’s the one that seem to start this. It had to be a shove but even that’s more than you ever expected from Luke. Granted, the lack of balance on your partner’s part helped to.

“Have fun with them,” your partner chuckles.

“You’re an asshole,” you finally speak up, stepping out from behind Luke and grab the handle of vodka. “You’re a giant fucking asshole and I hope you rot in fucking hell,” you huff, throwing some of the alcohol into their face. They sputter and shout up at you. But you don’t listen to it as you continue to rant on. “You’re the one cheating. You had your tongue shoved so far down Christine’s throat an hour ago I’m shocked she didn’t choke on it. You're the one sleeping through your entire office--you’re the one that people talk about. I worked, I worked as an escort for the last year in college to help after I lost everything and you think you have the right to shove it in my face. I can’t believe I tolerated this for this long.”

Luke takes hold of your arm to stop the pour. “That’s expensive vodka,” he teases. “I am glad though it’s not tequila.”

You huff but stop, keeping your attention trained on the movement of your new found ex. “Get the hell out of my life.”

Luke checks his watch again--11:26. The front door opens and closes. “Okay, first thing first, you’ve got 34 minutes until the new year and you’re already hitting major goals by speeding about 170 pounds in mere minutes. And what’s your guess on how long we have to clean this up before your brother flips?”

“However long until the party ends, he sleeps and wakes up in the morning,” you return. “I’ll grab some towels.”

Luke grabs some paper towels. He knows he can’t grab too many but he can at least attempt to keep the alcohol from reaching the rugs until you come back with the towels. You worry back down the hallway with an armful of towels and toss one out to Luke who uses it as a barrier to keep the rug safe. You take one and start trying to soak up the middle of the mess.

“Thanks,” you say, looking up from the floor. “For sticking up for me.”

“Of course. You don’t deserve that from anyone. And they were a garbage person anyway. Wish I had kicked their ass.” Luke takes another towel from the pile you dropped them in on the dining room table and starts helps keeping the alcohol from spreading too far into the kitchen.

“Hey, no. I don’t think I’ve got enough savings to get you out on bail,” you laugh.

“Oh you wouldn’t have ratted me out. They would’ve deserved it.”

You nod with a bit of a snicker, grabbing another towel and help Luke with his end of the river of vodka. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have.”

“I can always count of you,” Luke laughs.

“Call it older sibling complex. I’m use to saving someone’s ass.” You’re about two years older than Luke, but it doesn’t feel like that. And your brother that Luke hangs out with is older than you by a year and a half. But there were still some siblings after you, so it was just a chain reaction. You and your bother would cover for your other siblings, but only sometimes. Sometimes you got sick of jumping into the fire and what’s life without some healthy sibling rivalry.

You and Luke manage to clean up the alcohol and go to grab the last towel at the same time. You’re holding the garbage bag so that you could transport said towels to the laundry room without dripping more alcohol all over the house. “I got it,” you insist.

Luke doesn’t loosen his grip. “You sure you’re okay? Seems like a lot happened even before I got here.”

“I’ve been meaning to shed those extra pounds for weeks now. Today was just the final straw.”

“Did-did they ever say anything like sober? You know you can talk to me. I care about you.”

“I know you do, Luke. I appreciate it. But I’m okay. Well as okay as a person can be. I’ve known for a long time, like I said. They weren’t as sneaky as they thought they were.”

“But still. That’s a lot to go through. If you ever need someone, talk to me.”

You sigh but nod, looking into the rich blue of Luke’s eyes. “I will.”

“I like you,” he confesses but he’s sure you won’t take it that way. “I’d like to keep you around and I need you to know I don’t judge you. I would never judge you.”

“I know,” is your whispered reply.

He almost gives in. Almost kisses you but instead, Luke nods. “Good.”

You finally get the last towel and take it to the laundry room, leaning into the washer. There was no way that was real. There was no way Luke leaned into you and there’s no way you almost leaned into him too. No, it’s just the alcohol you tell yourself. It’s just the moment--him coming to your defense. But you know just underneath it all there was something--small, tiny, almost something you could brush aside. But it always came back.

Starting up the washer, from all the nights you crashed at your brother’s place. Originally you were going to move out with him, but he found some friends that wanted to go in on the house, and you figured that was better for him. You managed to find a place and some friends that didn’t mind going In on the rent either. That didn’t mean that you didn’t bug the shit of your brother though when you could, by crashing at his place or watching over the place whenever him and his friends needed a house sitter to take care of the plants that you gave him.

You step out of the laundry room and find Luke walking down towards the backdoor, two beers in hand. “I figured you’d need a drink after a night like this,” he grins with a bit of a sheepish grin.

“Or two, or three,” you laugh. “But thanks. Just-just don’t tell my brother. At least not until morning, I don’t need him trying to drunkenly get into a fight.”

Luke nods. “I understand.”

The two of you join the party and Luke finds your brother easily. But he doesn’t let his gaze drift too far from you. You have some friends you seem to have invited too and it’s not too long after your reunion with them that they are flocked around you. Luke can just faintly catch the gasps they release. But soon the group of you are too far, too deep into the dance floor that he can’t hear anymore or see what’s happening.

“Two minutes!” Someone shouts. The party herds itself inside to watch the ball drop. But Luke lingers behind as everyone moves inside to find you and sure enough you’re lingering behind too.

“The ball’s not dropping out here,” Luke laughs.

“Don’t need a ball to drop to make a change,” you return staring up at the sky. It’s hard to see any of the stars but you imagine what they’d look like blinking back at you from so high up.

“You made one hell of a change tonight,” he agrees. The backdoor stays open and he can hear the concentrated chatter of the group.

You nod and look over to Luke. “I did make one hell of a change tonight. But changes can happen at any time, anywhere.”

“I agree.”

And you almost wish he’d look at you, so that you could say it and show him what you mean, so that you could even admit to yourself that you mean. But Luke doesn’t look down. So you settle with just watching him and then turn back to the sky. You slip your hand through his and think this might be change enough too.

Luke squeezes your hand in return. He grins just a little but tries to keep it hidden before turning his attention back to you. You’re staring up at the sky still. The countdown’s started from inside and Luke just watches you. “Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One!” The house erupts into cheers. You squeeze Luke’s hand in return.

#Luke hemmings #Luke hemmings fanfic #Luke hemmings fic #Luke hemmings blurb #Luke hemmings imagine #Luke hemmings x reader #Luke hemmings x reader insert #Luke hemmings 5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #h writes #h writes christmas 2020

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notcanoncompliant · 5 years

Text

Make It Better

Starker College!AU; Student!Peter/Professor!Tony (another excuse for me to write the word ‘panties’ repeatedly) (sorry not sorry)

****

Something’s off about Peter. Tony notices as soon as the kid steps into the lecture hall, and it only becomes more obvious as Tony actually gets the presentation going.

His favorite student (sue him, every professor has one) is hardly participating, and though he’s still obviously paying attention throughout, typing notes up as he goes, all of his usual enthusiasm is just…gone. He looks tired, or maybe sad.

Tony doesn’t think about how frequently he’s glancing over to check until Peter looks up and their eyes lock. The younger’s flare just slightly, and Tony feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Especially when a bloom of pink spreads across Peter’s cheeks.

He doesn’t check on him again for the rest of the lecture.

But he worries.

After he’s dismissed everyone and the students are filing out of the hall, Tony makes a decision.

“Parker, stay behind for a minute.”

Something in him is too satisfied at the way Peter halts almost immediately at the sound of his voice, stopping hard enough that he rocks forward slightly.

All the times Tony’s pulled Peter aside before this have been exercises in both self-restraint and masochism. The twenty-something is made of sunlight, brightness leaking out of his pores, and watching that split second of supernova excitement burst across his features when Tony tells him to stay is the instructor’s most guilty pleasure.

This time, though, there’s a quick spark, a flash of the light Tony’s (hoping for) familiar with, and then anxiety, and then the kid just looks…flat. Forcibly so. Like he’s hiding something.

The door closes behind the last retreating body, and then it’s just them in the empty lecture hall.

Tony moves to lean against the front of his desk, braces his palms against the wooden edge.

“Alright, kid,” he says, raising one hand to gesture vaguely at Peter, who’s stopped a few feet in front of him, “what’s up? You seemed pretty off today. Distracted.“

Peter winces, his eyes skittering down and away for a second before he looks back at the instructor.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I–it’s nothing, I didn’t mean to get–I still took notes, I wasn’t just–”

“Okay, Peter, breathe,” Tony soothes, “I’m not trying to berate you. You’re usually a little more active participation-wise, I wanted to check up on you. That’s all.”

He has to fight the urge to physically comfort Peter when those doe eyes (those eyes, those regular, normal eyes that Tony only ever notices as such) go pained and disbelieving and hopeful before the feelings are again poorly shuttered away.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, smiling unconvincingly while the knuckles on the hand holding his bag strap turn white, “it’s nothing, just–just life stuff. I’ll be–it’ll be fine in a couple days. Tomorrow! Tomorrow, I’ll be fine tomorrow, participating and everything!”

Tony needs to accept defeat and let him go, bad poker face and all, but a not-good-very-bad voice in the back of his mind is muttering to him about the returned blush on Peter’s face. It’s making him think a little too much about the uncharacteristic unwillingness to share.

They’ve talked about things that aren’t related to curriculum in their frequent after-class discussions. Life comes up; they know some basic things about each other–favorite takeout, least favorite movies, places they grew up, etc.–and some things that are maybe not so basic–names of best friends, stories of first pets, how often they visit their parents, and so on.

But this is the first time he’s seen Peter so…flustered.

Thankfully (yes, thankfully) Tony’s conscience prevails and he decides not to push.

“Okay. Alright. But if you ever do need to talk to someone, my door’s always open.”

He gives Peter a quick smile he hopes is as comforting as he means it to be, pushes off the desk and circles back around to his seat.

He’s proud of himself, he really is, Tony thinks while he blindly shuffles through some papers. Resisted temptation. Kept things on neutral ground. Breached no bound–

“My boyfriend dumped me.”

Tony freezes, his fingers flexing involuntarily. The crinkle of paper is loud in the spacious, empty room.

Okay.

“That’s rough, I’m sorry,” Tony says, suddenly wishing he had something to drink. Water. Juice. Scotch.

He looks up at Peter with what he hopes is more empathy than the inappropriate excitement he’s feeling over the development, but he’s suddenly a lot less concerned with what his own face is doing when he sees Peter’s expression.

The kid’s not even looking at him, just staring off to the side with this heartbreaking shame written across his features.

“I…” Peter’s throat clicks when he swallows, “I told him about something I…like. And he, um…”

Oh, man. Oh, no.

“…he called me a pervert,” Peter says, quietly, “and I know it’s not a big–I mean, the word’s kind of a joke…but, he really meant it, you know? There’s a difference, when someone says it and they really think you’re–” he pauses, frowns tightly. “What I–it’s not even anything bad, not gross or illegal. And I know it’s not, but…for a second…”

Tony’s heart fucking shatters for him. There’s nothing quite like being genuinely kink-shamed for the first time, especially by someone you thought you could trust. For someone as genuinely sweet and kind as Peter, it would be completely implosive. He remembers similar devastation, hates seeing the confused, questioning pain on Peter’s face, the self-doubt.

He resists the compulsion to ask what, exactly, Peter likes.

“I’m sorry. That’s really shitty,” he says instead.

Tony doesn’t typically curse in front of his students (has to keep up appearances of professionalism somehow), and he preens internally when Peter huffs a surprised laugh. It’s a nice moment, both of them wrapped in shared experience (even if one party’s unaware), uplifted by just a hint of levity. Very Chicken Soup for the Secret Kinky Soul–

“Do you–,” Peter starts, blushing slightly, “–can I tell you what it is? It’d be nice to hear it’s, you know, not actually weird?” He’s squirming a little, his eyes dancing away again with nerves.

Tony might actually die. Rolling himself back a bit from the desk, he takes a breath and pastes on his last-ditch effort at an encouraging, platonic, smile. Slouches casually against the backrest of his chair.

“If you feel comfortable sharing, then shoot.”

He’s going for ‘mentorly’, he swears. This is definitely an appropriate conversation to have with his student. Definitely. Yes.

After a beat of silence, Peter shifts. Takes a breath. Swallows.

“I like…um. I like wearing pant–” the kid chokes a little, flushes darker, “I like wearing women’s underwear.”

“Ah,” Tony says. He tries to covertly lace his fingers together over the vicinity of ‘just below his belt’ and only succeeds in drawing Peter’s eye to where his hands have disappeared.

Before Peter’s eyes flip back up to meet his, Tony sees the kid’s tongue peek out to wet his lips in a subconscious motion.

Clearing his throat, Tony brings his hands up from his lap to fold them on the desk, leans forward. Watches the anticipation and uncertainty dance across Peter’s face. Hopes he’s coming off more supportive than interested.

“It’s not weird, Pete. It’s…not. Don’t worry about that.”

It feels hypocritical; essentially telling Peter not to think much of it, when Tony is going to have an impossible time thinking about anything else. He’s trying hard not to think about it right now, trying to avoid imagining clinging lace, or satin, or silk, stretched over Peter’s–

“Can I show you?”

Tony absently approves of the phrasing; that he’s being offered a gift, that this is something Peter wants to give him. The response he knows he should give is something along the lines of 'that’s not appropriate’, but the only one banging around in his head is a resounding YES PLEASE.

When he gives up and nods in the affirmative, Peter slides his bag off his shoulder.

Tony’s expecting him to pull out his phone, maybe show him some pictures. Apparently, Tony’s going to have to re-examine his take on reality, because Peter does not pull out his phone.

The brunet lowers his bag to the floor and starts taking off his jacket.

Tony’s frozen, again, as the jacket hits the carpet beside the already discarded laptop bag. Frozen, twice in one day. Twice in less than an hour. Peter is a fucking trip. He’s a dream, he’s a hallucination–

–that will be immediately visible if anyone were to open the lecture hall door.

Peter seems to realize it at the same time. He’s across the room in a couple of seconds, reaching for the door handle, pausing for a beat…and locking them in together.

It feels a little like someone snaps their fingers in Tony’s face.

He’s about to let one of his students–his favorite student–basically give him a striptease. In his classroom. It’s beyond 'inappropriate’. This is something Peter should be exploring with other twenty-somethings, not a professor fifteen years his senior–

But…Peter had tried to explore it with someone else, hadn’t he?

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says, suddenly, “Is this okay?”

The younger man’s back in place, like he’d never moved at all, but now he’s shyly lifting the hem of his t-shirt with one hand and undoing the front closure of his jeans with the other, and Tony’s eyes lock onto the peekaboo of fire-engine red now visible beneath the worn denim.

“Yeah, Pete,” he says, voice rasping slightly, “It’s okay.”

Everyone has a breaking point, Tony reasons as he stares at the picture in front of him. There’s only so much he could possibly endure before letting go, and apparently his threshold’s pretty low when it comes to Peter; a few seconds of crepe paper resistance.

He stands slowly, comes around the desk. Peter doesn’t move, just watches him, brittle-sharp hope in his eyes. Tony’s aware he’s moving like Peter’s a frightened animal, and his brain both shies from and reaches towards how this could make him the hunter, more so than the awed observer. Though he is definitely both.

The way the kid’s chest heaves slightly on a sharp inhale, the way his lips part just barely when Tony lowers to his knees in front of him, are just more gifts, more memories Tony wants to etch into his brain and play on loop. He plans on showing just how grateful he is.

Peter’s flushing a lot brighter, but he’s not pulling away; he just pulls the zipper open a little further, revealing more of the delicate pattern that overlays Peter’s pale, smooth skin.

“Can I touch you? Kiss you?” Tony asks, voice rough

Peter gives him a shaky but enthusiastic 'yes, please’.

Tony groans and reaches for him, tugs the denim waistband down a couple inches and pulls Peter gently forward by the hips so he can drag his lips along the line where that softly-defined vee of muscle disappears under the thin lace. Peter’s hand slides into his hair, and Tony hums in approval as he presses drawn out kisses into the skin of Peter’s stomach.

When Tony grabs two generous handfuls of Peter’s ass and squeezes, those tentative, sweet fingers tighten reflexively.

“This is–you look edible, Pete. I’m so lucky you’re letting me see you like this.”

“Yeah?” Peter asks, breathless and wide-eyed when Tony looks up.

“Yes, sweetheart. Beautiful. Gorgeous…” He punctuates each word with another brush of lips to the border of lace and skin.

He smells lightly musky and male through the delicate fabric, his cock hard and hot underneath.

Shutting his eyes, Tony gets lost in nuzzling at Peter, murmuring sweet nonsense, nipping and kissing and dipping lower, reveling in lightly musky male scent through the delicate fabric. Peter’s cock is hard and hot, and Tony can’t help but lave his tongue over the swollen head, humming when Peter shivers against him.

He pulls back to both attempt to calm down and check on how Peter’s doing; he hadn’t meant to get so worshippy–

When he looks up, he feels like his chest is caving in. Peter’s on the verge of tears, eyes red-rimmed and wet, and Tony pushes to stand.

“God, Pete, I’m sorry–”

He’s cut off with a muffled 'mmph’ when Peter grabs his shirt and yanks him down for a kiss. It’s short and hard and desperate, and when it’s over, Peter pulls away enough that Tony can see the almost-panic on his face.

“I–Mr. Stark, thank you, please don’t apologize, please don’t say it was a mistake, it felt so good, you felt so good, I don’t want to stop, I’ll stop crying, I promise–”

For a second, Tony’s furious with whoever made Peter believe he has to apologize for his tears (wonders if it’s the same dipshit who said no to Peter Parker in fucking panties), but Tony’s anger won’t help anything right now. He reels in his questions, and instead reaches up with one hand to swipe the fresh-fallen tears from Peter’s cheeks, a move that stops the flow of anxious word-vomit.

“If you want more, I want to give you more,” Tony says, using his free arm to wrap Peter’s waist and tug him gently forward. “I want you to have the world, kid.”

It’s too honest–Tony’s being way too honest right now; months of feelings and want trying to break free–but he’s not about to stop. Not when Peter’s staring up at him with heartbreaking, careful hope.

Lowering his head, Tony presses a kiss to the corner of Peter’s jaw, murmurs his next words into his ear.

“You’re amazing, Peter. So brilliant. So sweet.” He drops both hands to slide down Peter’s hips and around to the small of his back, slips his fingers just under the lace, drags them back and forth along the soft skin just above the curve of his ass as Peter arches against him with a shaky gasp.“That you look like a wet dream right now is really just a bonus.”

“Mr. Stark…” Peter breathes, surprised, his flush deepening.

Tony’s going to have to tell Peter to use his first name at some point, but he’s a little too selfish to do it right now, when the moniker sends a bolt of liquid heat swooping low in his stomach.

“And you’re going to make a mess in these for me,” he continues, tugging at the panties, “because I want you to feel good. Because you deserve to feel good.”

Peter’s staring up at him with a sweeter version of the supernova Tony loves, tentative hope and anticipation and want.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Tony says, tilting his head down to brush a kiss across Peter’s lips, “let me make you feel good. Let me make it better.”

***

@the-amazing-spidertwink, @starkercrossedlovers

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #panty kink #starker fic #tony x peter #peter parker #tony stark #nff #kink shaming

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aespawpaq · 3 years

Text

Netflix and Chill (3)

IMAX and CLIMAX

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; sh is an avid history channel viewer, sh hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, sh goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

Sunghoon sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Sunghoon’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

Sunghoon scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Sunghoon greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Isa swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Isa, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Sunghoon picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Sunghoon’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Sunghoon invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Sunghoon not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Sunghoon is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Sunghoonie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Sunghoon was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Sunghoon rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Sunghoon, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Sunghoon’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Sunghoon apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Sunghoon’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Sunghoon laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

——

You rarely use the key Sunghoon gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Sunghoon’s house were either the result of Sunghoon picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Sunghoon inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

His mom was going to kill him.

“ Sunghoon?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Sunghoon had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, hoon, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Heeseung would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Sunghoon goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Sunghoon doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Sunghoon’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Sunghoon doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “hoon, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Sunghoon’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Sunghoon sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

Sunghoon scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Sunghoon sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Sunghoon crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Sunghoon’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Sunghoon quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Sunghoon clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Sunghoon will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Sunghoon is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Sunghoon has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Sunghoon scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Sunghoon falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

Sunghoon says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Sunghoon sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Sunghoon laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Sunghoon teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Sunghoon has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

Sunghoon groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Sunghoon preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Sunghoon, you always came first. Sunghoon’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Sunghoon was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Sunghoon grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Sunghoon’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Sunghoon kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Sunghoon was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Sunghoon rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Sunghoon’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

Any other day Sunghoon would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today… well.

You were playing a different game.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

The action makes Sunghoon scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Sunghoon, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Sunghoon never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Sunghoon had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Sunghoon gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

Sunghoon was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Sunghoon leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Sunghoon smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Sunghoon sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Sunghoon hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Sunghoon doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Sunghoon adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Sunghoon‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Sunghoon, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Sunghoon finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

Sensing your uncertainty, Sunghoon tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Sunghoon kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Sunghoon takes your wrists in his hands.

Sunghoon mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Sunghoon that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Sunghoon smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “hoon!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Sunghoon’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Sunghoon either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “ Sunghoon, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Sunghoon wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

Sunghoon chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Sunghoon reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Sunghoon’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

Behind you Sunghoon tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Sunghoon scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

“And?” Sunghoon asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Sunghoon snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Sunghoon barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “hoon— Sunghoon!”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Sunghoon nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Park Sunghoon, maybe Isa was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Sunghoon is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Sunghoon responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your hoon now.”

“My… hoon,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Sunghoon chases both your second orgasms.

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Sunghoon hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Sunghoon catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

Sunghoon laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don’t wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Park Sunghoon,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Sunghoon’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

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moth-song-archives · 3 years

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The Insatiable Flow of Time (1/8)

I remembered that I can make posts here too huh! Anyways, I wrote a post-MAG200 fic <3

I’ll reblog it again with the link to ao3 if you’d prefer reading it there :D

Rating: Teens and Up Archive Warnings: Choose Not To Use Categories: F/F Relationships: Georgie/Melanie, Georgie & Jon, Jonmartin (mentioned) Characters: Georgie Barker, Melanie King, Jonathan Sims, the Admiral, Basira Hussain (mentioned), Rosie Zampano (mentioned), Martin Blackwood (mentioned)

Additional tags: Diary/Journal × post mag200 × Post-Canon × Canon Compliant × Rated for swearing and me doing my best to write a fitting epilogue for my most fave story of all time × Bittersweet × Hurt/Comfort × Grief/Mourning × Gentle-Sad-Soft × Fluff × Non-Sexual Intimacy × Tenderness × Generally Hopeful Ending × Ambiguous/Open Ending × Catharsis × You know how TMA is a tragedy? ... yeah × Hope Punk × dealing with the fallout of surviving a literal apocalypse × Moving on and letting go × Trans Georgie Barker × Nonbinary Melanie King × Melanie uses any pronouns but needs to (re)discover this first × and is then mainly referred to with they/them pronouns for diary-simplicity × Melanie is ace in my heart ♡ × Jon is also enby but it only gets referred to in passing × Georgie has a Type™ × Character Study × i love them all so much × Nonbinary aspec author × it's very hope punk and somft BUT ALSO VERY SAD × in like a cathartic way × because i like causing pain :') × pre-written and updates every 2-3 days

I think I might use it to… rediscover myself. That’s what I liked about journaling in the first place, I think. Getting to think about things outside of my own head, putting it out there so I could move on? Maybe it’s time to return to old coping mechanisms and try again. Even if I haven’t really changed. Even if I should’ve changed. Right?

As the world tries to piece itself back together, Georgie grapples with her past, her present, and her future by keeping a diary. She also keeps having this strange, recurring dream that involves Jon. Post MAG200.

Finished at ~12k, will upload over the next couple of days <3

Day 3 - Evening

Melanie is sleeping. Basira is also sleeping, on the sofa in the living-room. She doesn’t really know what to do with herself, these days, so for now she’s staying with us.

I am not sleeping. I’m so far beyond tired that I can’t sleep anymore. It’s been... how long? More than a day, certainly. I’m at the kitchen table and the night outside is darker than any I’ve ever seen. There are no street lights and a million more stars than I could’ve ever imagined. I wish Melanie could see them too :(

Back before everything in my life went wrong, I used to be really good at this. I think I got my first diary when I was... seven, maybe eight? I used to be obsessed with it. I guess I stopped writing in college, after the incident, because it felt... wrong? Like I was lying to myself, trying to fabricate emotions that just weren’t there, keeping up with things that no longer seemed important or note-worthy. Mainly, I couldn’t make myself care about anyone or anything anymore.

I think I want to find that person again, now that it’s over. Try and… move on? And Melanie encouraged me :) I guess that’s the main reason. I found this notebook in one of the domains when we were rescuing people. I don’t know what I originally wanted to do with it, but I did end up forgetting about it until I went through my bag again today. It smells like fire and is a bit singed in places, but I kind of like that? I think I might use it to… rediscover myself. ...that sounds very pretentious, but this is just for me, so...

And I like that it’s just cheap paper scribbled on with a shitty biro. Maybe I’ll just burn it when all the thoughts are on the paper instead of in my head. When I can sleep again. And the prize for the most dramatic way of closure goes to Georgie Barker! But yeah. That’s what I liked about journaling in the first place, I think. Getting to think about things outside of my own head, putting it out there so I could move on? Maybe it’s time to return to old coping mechanisms and try again. Even if I haven’t really changed. Even if I should’ve changed. Right?

But I don’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I feel different, now that they’re gone? The entities, I mean, though Jon and Martin seem to be gone, too.

I keep remembering Martin’s expression when he told us to go early, how upset he was.

Honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised. As long as I’ve known Jon, he’s always done what he thought best. It used to drive me up the walls, but I also admired it, I think? I never would’ve told him that, but… Well. He’s gone now.

It’s over, all of it.

And I still can’t sleep.

And Melanie is still blind, and I still feel empty, and my fear still hasn’t come back. Everyone who died is still dead, and the trauma is still there. There were angry mobs in the streets, and people got killed.

I can’t quite believe that Jon and Martin went with them. I can’t believe they left us behind to explain the entire mess.

We’re back in our old flat. It’s so weird to be back home. Everything looks the same, as though no time passed at all. Nobody knows what date it is. How long were we caught in there?

Outside, it feels like spring. There are birds everywhere, singing their hearts out. Sounds like more birds than there used to be, too. The trees are leafless and dead-looking, but Basira pointed out that they’re getting there... and it feels like spring.

I haven’t slept properly in 3 days because the questions keep me awake. It’s not that I’m worrying, really, just… thinking? I think I could sleep better if the worry had come back, but it hasn’t.

As far as we can tell, all modern devices are broken, too. Computers and phones and such, digital cameras, generators... we don’t even know what the rest of the world looks like. I hadn’t realised how much gets controlled by computers these days, we don’t even have central heating or water access in our flat. Rumours and news are spreading person-to-person, like in the Olden Days. We only have emergency systems that were installed in case of nation-wide blackout. I guess I’m glad we don’t actually have a blackout, we just need to get the computers back to work. (If I understood it correctly.)

Melanie thinks it’ll all come back to life in a few more days. I certainly hope so. I also hope I’ll stop feeling like this. Or rather, not feeling like anything. It’s so strange. Like in the first days after the incident, when I just felt numb?

They’re gone! I want to feel like a person again! What if I never get myself back?

They’re actually gone.

What will we do with our lives now? Basira isn’t the only one who feels uprooted. I think the whole world feels like that right now.

I hope my computer comes back soon. I miss music, and making things. My photos, all those memories.

I don’t want to lose all of that. I want to start fresh, but not without records of the past.

…I’ve had a lot of time to think about that, specifically. Records, and futures.

What the Ghost is done, right? There’s no fun in creepy ghost stories if you’ve been through an actual, living nightmare.

I think I want to start new with that, too. When everything works again, that is.

New world, new future, new podcast. I like that. I think. Make a record of what happened through eyewitness accounts? Or is that too similar to the Statements… then again, it’ll be more like interviews. And I think we shouldn’t forget.

We owe them that much.

I’ll have to talk it over with Melanie tomorrow. Maybe.

We’ll see.

God, I think maybe… maybe I can actually try and sleep tonight. Writing does seem to help.

Note to self: thank Laverne for suggesting it. (Also for being there for Melanie. And listening to us. And stopping with that culty nonsense. She’s the only one we found so far, but she actually listened to us. Strange to think that in this world, I have to be grateful for someone not worshipping me for some dumb reason?!)

Day 4 - Morning

So. Three things.

1) I did manage to fall asleep after all! I’ve always been a bit of an insomniac, especially after the incident, so actually getting some proper rest felt really good.

2) I somehow woke up right as the sun went up! I think I’ve never seen a dawn this beautiful? I watched it from the bedroom window and I’ll definitely describe it to her in detail when she wakes up! The Admiral was sleeping on our pillow, right next to her head, snuggled up against the back of her neck and shoulder... it was so cute. I can’t believe my phone and camera still don’t work! Melanie has that old polaroid camera somewhere but we haven’t found it yet, and I wish my art skills were any better. I did draw a sketch of the two of them though. I’ll cherish it forever, no matter how shitty it is :’)

After everything that happened, the Admiral is still a bit weird around us. He started out really aggressive, calmed down a bit, and now… now he’s weirdly skittish? Meows a lot. Keeps walking around the flat. The only thing that even remotely returns him to how he used to be is tuna. It’s weird.

But seeing him like that, with Melanie? I love him so much.

I think he’ll be okay.

But before I forget, and why I actually got out the diary at this ungodly hour instead of trying to go back to sleep now that the sun is up…

3) I had a really nice dream. And... I don’t even know. I think I want to try and hold onto the feeling? I don’t think I’ve felt that… deeply… in a long while. Maybe the last time was before all this, when we decided to move in together. Before all of this happened.

For a moment, I felt like I was whole again :’)

It didn’t even have Melanie in it, which is very rude tbh. I think Jon was there? The Admiral, too. We were just chilling on the sofa, watching netflix I think... It felt so... mundane??? Casual, somehow??? Like it was normal to feel like that and I just... I want THAT. I want to feel like that again, instead of this weird… blank nothingness? I want that all the time, not just when I’m riding a high or feeling so terrible that it pierces through.

I don’t know if that makes sense but this is just for me anyway so I suppose it doesn’t have to.

I think I should feel bad about Jon being gone, but I still don’t even feel relief at it being over. Just this vague numbness.

I hate it so much, except I don’t, actually, I just know that I should?

Melanie keeps saying that I need a therapist but if we’re being honest here, I guess I need one the least? The whole goddamn world needs therapy right now. Including the therapists. And I’ve been dealing with this for a long time now.

I guess I keep hoping it’ll just go away somehow.

Anyways. Enough introspection, I’m going back to bed. I hope I don’t wake them! :)

Day 4 - Evening

It’s night now, the sun went down hours ago. We have a bunch of candles, but I’m trying to use them sparingly, so I just have one lit. I put a glass of water next to the candle so now the light gets magnified a bit more. It’s a weird atmosphere, but I kinda like it? Feels… cozy! :)

I’m still not over how everything looks the same, but nothing works like it did before, and there’s this… burden? This collective trauma everyone went through. It feels so surreal. So many things are still broken… it’s like we woke from a collective nightmare, but pieces of it still remain, floating around.

And we just sent it away with the tapes. I really hope those other worlds are doing better than us, but what else could we have done? I… try not to think about it. I know I should, but I still can’t really bring myself to care, or even feel overly guilty for that? …

Melanie fell asleep with her head in my lap half an hour ago. I was reading to her. She says she loves the sound of my voice, so I’ve started doing that in the evenings. (I still love that we had separate crushes from a distance on each other for ages because of youtube and WTG. We’ve been talking about that a lot, too.)

She still has nightmares, but apparently she’s also been having good dreams, and she looks so peaceful right now. The last few days have been a lot, but in comparison to before, and even before then…

It’s over. We made it out. We get to have a future together. I still can’t quite believe it. :)

I guess I’m writing again (despite already having done so in the morning) because it somehow helped yesterday and I’m hoping to replicate that. And I have a lot to think about. It’s been a long day.

Basira is still out there, helping out where she can. I think she feels guilty. Melanie says she doesn’t because there was no other choice, but I know her, and I know that she’s lying.

There’s always another choice. We just say that to make it easier to bear.

I hope she knows she can come talk to me when she feels ready to tackle it.

I hope I ever feel able to tackle it myself. No. I will talk to her when I’m ready.

We did talk a bit about things, of course. Melanie doesn’t really remember her dreams, most of the time, but apparently she’s been alternating between horrifying nightmares and a really nice, recurring one that sometimes happens after the nightmares. She doesn’t really remember much of it, but she mentioned it after I told her about the Jon dream. Not what it was about, just… in general.

From the way she talked about it, I think her dad might have been in it? I’m actually not sure, but the way she smiled…

She has that little smile on her lips again, even now, dreaming. The soft one she gets when she talks about good things. About him.

About me.

(I still can’t believe she chose me. How impossibly lucky? How did I ever deserve her? But then, it’s not about that, is it? She is mine, and I am hers, and… life will be good. I know it will be.)

She’s been smiling a lot more, these past few days.

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sortasirius · 4 years

Note

Prompt: Dean drives Sam to the library routinely & pretends he hates it (but Sam knows he has a library card). Dean's started seeing a new face in the library, always reading books about spiders, but he doesnt how to break the ice. Until one day, he finally sits down and invites Cas over to his place to see his pet tarantula. When they get there, the tarantula is missing. Both are afraid of spiders: Cas was only researching for an assignment & Dean only got a tarantula to impress Cas.

This is literally the funniest prompt I have ever received, I literally laughed for a minute straight when I read it. Thank you so much, this was such a fun one to write, I hope you like it!

Words: 2063 (what can I say, the spider sparked my creativity)

Dean pretends to hate the library. Someone had to put up the front of being the cool intimidating brother, and they both knew that wasn’t going to be Sam, even though he was about a foot taller than Dean now. No, that didn’t make Dean self-conscious.

He takes Sam to the library at least once a week, Sam insists he studies better when he was there, Dean rolling his eyes and relenting, sprawling out in one of the hard wooden chairs and pretending to be bored on his phone until he could sneak off to peruse the stacks himself, where he was sure Sam wouldn’t see him. He reads Tolstoy and Vonnegut and Dostoyevsky and Salinger, even dipping into those Hunger Games books that everyone was so unto a few years before (his review? They’re pretty good, make him feel like he’s a fast reader).

It’s an easy routine, something that Dean will never in a million years admit how much he enjoys. The quiet shelves that all smell like dust, pencil shavings, and old books are peaceful, something that makes him feel like he can breathe a little easier, that life is a simple as sinking down onto the worn, stained carpet, his back being poked by a metal divider between the S’s and the T’s and losing himself in the inky words printed on the page.

One Sunday in the dead of winter, Dean’s in his usual hiding place in the back corner of the library. It’s a little darker here, but when your eyes get used to the lower light, it’s easy to read. He’s lost in the world of Jack Kerouac’s On The Road today, and is so immersed that he doesn’t even notice someone looking at the shelves next to him, right up until they trip over his feet in the aisle and crash onto the floor with a thud loud enough to shake the books stacked towards the ceiling.

“Shit!” Dean cries in a stage whisper, surprised, but not surprised enough to use a regular speaking voice, he isn’t an animal, this is a library after all. He scrambles to help the person up in the semi-darkness and then is face to face with a pair of wide blue eyes.

“Sorry,” the stranger whispers, trying to arrange his clothes, which Dean notices fit the attire of a college professor more than a student, and this guy looked like a student.

“S’no problem, my fault, I probably shouldn’t sit in the middle of the aisle.”

The guy nods, smiling a little shyly, and then hurries off before Dean can even catch his name. Damn. He was good looking too.

Dean sheepishly moves out of the aisle and to a small table which, though more in the light, is also open enough that Sam could see him if he walks by, and Dean still wasn’t sure he wants to deal with the smug look that would take up residence on his brother’s face if he saw him reading. But man, this book was just a little too good to put down.

Surprise surprise, he does get caught. Sam taps him on the shoulder with a wide grin, his bag hooked over his shoulder, clearly ready to go.

“So much for hating the library huh?”

“Ok, whatever, I just come here for the pictures.”

“Kerouac isn’t exactly kid’s stuff.”

Dean rolls his eyes and gets to his feet, looking anywhere but at Sam. He tucks the book under his arm. He had to check it out and finish it tonight, it’s just that good.

They walk by the guy that had tripped over Dean earlier. He’s hunched over his table, his hands flying across a notepad he has next to him, several books about spiders spread out around him. Dean makes a mental note of it. He was going to talk to that guy if he saw him again, he’s always up for a good challenge, and spider-boy looked like the perfect one.

He does see spider-boy again the next week, when Sam simply has to study for a midterm he has coming up. He’s wearing thick glasses with dark frames this time, his nose an inch from the diagram of a garden spider he’s copying. Dean tries to work up the courage to go talk to him, but there’s something so taboo about interrupting someone when they’re so clearly in a groove, so Dean watches him from the non-fiction section, observing the way his hair brushes the edge of the book he’s staring at, and the way he cracks his knuckles every so often when his hand starts cramping.

Dean decides he’s being a freak. He goes back to his little table and picks up Tortilla Flat by Steinbeck.

It goes on like this for nearly two months. Dean sees spider-boy every week, who’s name, he learns, is Cas, always at the same table, always working on something to do with spiders. And every week, Dean swears he’s going to go talk to him, but he has no idea how. He’s never been this nervous to talk to someone, but there’s a little nagging voice in the back of his head, what if this guy thought he was an idiot? What if they had nothing to talk about?

So, he does what he does best: he hatches a master plan at his little table in the back of the library.

He’s a genius.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam sighs, staring out the window of the Impala at the looming brick building of the library grew closer. Dean had put his plan into action the day before, and was eager to get to the library and ask Cas to come home with him, see his prize. He had insisted that Sam get a ride home with his girlfriend, and Sam had been only too happy to oblige.

“This’ll make a great story for Eileen I guess.”

“This is going to work.”

Sam laughs again.

“Like I said, you’re an idiot.”

Dean doesn’t waste time. The second he steps inside, and smells the familiar old-book smell, he heads straight for Cas’ table. Cas is wearing his glasses today, and is reading a book called The History of the Arachnid, he’s leaning back on his chair so two legs were off the ground. A rebel. Dean’s kinda guy.

Dean plops down across from him, and Cas lowers his book in surprise.

“Hi, you probably don’t remember me-”

“I see you every week.”

This catches Dean off guard. Cas arches an eyebrow, and then laughs a little.

“I’m Cas.”

Dean knows this, the librarian, Mrs. Covere, is a total gossip who loves Dean, and he had wheedled it out of her three weeks prior to hatching his plan.

“Hi Cas, I’m Dean.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean,” Cas smiles at him, clearly intrigued, and Dean isn’t going to disappoint.

“Listen,” Dean starts, leaning across the table with his hands clasped in front of him, “I see you reading a lot about spiders. And, though there are other books out there, I was wondering if you wanted to stope reading about them and come meet a real one.”

Cas pales by a few degrees, and Dean rushes to explain so he doesn’t come across like a total freak.

“It’s just. Uh, well, I just got this guy, and he seems pretty cool, and you, uh, seem into spiders and I was just wondering if you, like you totally don’t have to, I don’t want to make it seem like, anyway, uh, the offer’s there? I guess…”

He trails off, kicking himself for rambling so much. That was not part of the master plan. But Cas, though still pale, smiles at him again.

“Sure, as long as you promise not to murder me.”

Dean grins back.

“Scout’s honor,” he raises his hand in salute, “You can ask Mrs. Covere, she’ll vouch for me.”

The ride over to Sam and Dean’s shared apartment with Cas is quiet. He doesn’t seem to feel every silence with words, and Dean’s the same, he likes that. He wasn’t sure he could talk much anyway, he would probably say something that would ruin the surprise.

Dean jumps out of the car and hustles to his door the second he parks, and Cas follows, still with those wide, interested eyes, his reading glasses tucked carefully into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Dean had never seen anyone dress so formally all the time, he would have to ask him about it, after his amazing ice-breaker.

Dean heads straight for the enclosure the man at the pet store had suggested to him, looks in the tank…and his stomach falls into his shoes.

There is supposed to be a tarantula that Dean had purchased in that tank. There is not a tarantula in that tank.

“Ha ha,” Cas is standing next to him, also looking into the clearly empty tank, “Good one. Where did you hide it?”

Dean’s throat is very dry. His eyes flick from floor, to wall, to ceiling. Can they even get on the ceiling?

“Um. This isn’t a joke. He, uh, got out I guess.”

Cas eyes widen with palpable fear, he takes an automatic step toward the door.

“Oh hell no, nope no, I gotta go.”

“Wait! You’re the only one here with any idea at all what to do!”

Cas gapes at him, Dean feels like he’s hyperventilating, suddenly feeling like there was maybe something on his back.

“What do you mean? I don’t know anything about-”

“You’ve read nothing but spider books for the last two months!”

“It was for my term paper! I hate spiders!”

“Well I do too!”

“Then why do you have one in your house?!”

“Because it was my master plan! I thought it would impress you!”

Cas splutters, half laughing.

“Wait,” Dean continues, “Why did you come with me if you hate spiders?”

“Because I wanted to impress you,” Cas cries, still looking all around the room for their missing spider friend. Dean follow his eyes, searching for the traitor. He was supposed to get him laid, not be a cock block.

You’re gonna have such a cool home after this too, he thinks bitterly, you do this to me, and I’m going to give you to Charlie. She loves all kinds of weird pets, you’ll be living the dream, I don’t deserve this man.

Yes, he’s talking to a tarantula in his head, these are desperate times.

He looks up at Cas, half desperate, half terrified that Cas was going to walk out the door and start going to the library across town.

“Listen, please help me find him, and I swear I’ll take you on a normal date after.”

Cas just nods.

It takes them the better part of an hour to track down the spider, who is hiding in the corner of the living room by Dean’s guitar, and then ten minutes of rock, paper, scissors to decide who picks him up. Dean loses, damn paper, and doesn’t immediately yell when it crawls on his hand because this is a delicate operation and, even though he hates spiders, he actually didn’t want to freak the little dude out.

Dean calls Charlie immediately after he’s back in his enclosure, and tells her she needs to come grab her new pet ASAP. He and Cas sit on the couch, staring at the lighted enclosure, trying to make sure the tarantula stayed in place this time.

Charlie shows up ten minutes later, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and happily scoops the spider into a “travel carrier” as she calls it. Dean carries all the spider supplies out to her car, and as she straps him carefully into the passenger seat she calls,

“Say bye to Aragog!”

Dean and Cas wave as she drives away, Charlie eyeing Dean from her rearview mirror. He knows he’s going to have to give a full report later.

“I have to say,” Cas says quietly after a minute, “That was the most fun I’ve ever had on a first date.”

Dean’s heart skips a beat.

“Just how I drew it up. You hungry? Let’s go get something to eat.”

Cas slides his hand into Dean’s as they walk towards his car, and Dean can’t help but think he owes Aragog a drink or two.

#my writing #anonymous #lilly answers #yall i am ALWAYS down for prompts #destiel #spn

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khaoticallykat · 5 years

Text

◇The Prince and The Punk◇

Chapter 3: The Girl at the Rock Show

word count: 2,048

Warnings: sight mention of abuse

Summary: Ransom goes to a concert with you.

A/n: Wow, I'm so sorry this took so long to write, I had a lot of stuff going on within the last 2-3 weeks, but im getting back into the groove of writing. Thank you all for understanding and supporting me. 💖 (does this spacing look weird to you? Let me know.)

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

You've been fighting with yourself all week over whether to confront Clarissa, you knew getting into someone's relationship would cause problems, but you couldn't just let what you heard go. You sat in the library at campus, zoning out from the laptop you were looking at, you finally started to get to know Ransom, you would even probably call him your friend.

You were snapped back into reality as Ransom snapped his fingers in front of your face, "You must be really focused," he laughed, sitting across from you, "what are you working on?"

"A little research paper before we're out for winter break." You said, going back to typing, "don't you have a paper to work on?"

"I'm done already," he smirked, you noticed he was wearing one of his white sweaters today, his right cheek was a little flushed, your heart sank, wondering if Clarissa hit him again. "you have any plans for winter break?"

"I'm going to a concert tonight, that's really it, work and go home," you said, "hey does-"

"A concert? With one of those bands you like? Can I come?" His blue eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Really? You?" You tried to hold a laugh, "you wanna go to a concert? It might be too much for your rich ass."

"How bad can it be? Clarissa is going on a trip with some girls from the cheer team and I got nothing but free time."

Your jaw clenched at her name but you remained calm, you could ask him later.

"Alright, you wanna go? Then meet me at my house at 6," You wrote down your address and cell phone number and handed it to him, "and I wouldn't wear that, it'd be a shame to see that sweater ruined."

Walking across the field to your car, you passed by the cheerleaders, all who were chatting with Clarissa. You did your best to ignore the loud talking amongst them but you turned your head when you heard your name being called.

"Y/n! Hey!" Clarissa was running over to you, dressed in the university's sweat suit, "sorry for the short talk yesterday, maybe we started off wrong."

You looked into her baby blue eyes, knowing damn well that was a lie.

"Yeah, I think we did too."

"We should try to get to know each other, do you wanna come hang out with me and the squad?"

You rather pull your eyelashes out, but maybe you could try to get to know her.

"Ah, yeah, sure." You smiled and followed her over to the circle of girls, you were introduced to each one and they all seemed rather nice. They mainly talked about their classes, some were even in the same majors as you. They also talked about their upcoming trip, they were using one of the girl's parent's vacation house by a lake, it honestly sounded fun, but you couldn't shake the feeling of something bad, most likely Clarissa was burning holes into you under that preppy demeanor.

Clarissa checked her phone and smiled, "I got a few things to finish before we leave tonight," she said, breaking away from the group, "but I'll see you all later."

The girls waved their byes and you took the chance to leave too, some shook your hand while others hugged you, it felt a little strange but you happily gave them hugs back. On the way to your car, you caught a glimpse of Ransom and Clarissa talking from across the campus. A cold shiver ran down your spine and alarms were going off in your head, you should check on him, to make sure he doesn't get hurt. But it wasn't your place to do that, taking a deep breath, you unlocked your car and drove home, you sworn you could have seen Ransom looking right at you.

It was almost four thirty when you arrived back at home, the little two story house was simple and modern, grey with red window panes. Your father brought it when you were still just a baby, but worked on it over time. You took off your bag and coat, leaving your boots by the door, your mother came around the corner from the bedroom and greeted you.

"Long day today?" She asked, you mother was smart and kind, but she also didn't mess around when it came to family or her patients.

"Yeah, but you know I'm going to that concert tonight, right?"

Her brows furrowed, "It's going to snow tonight, anyone going with you?"

"A friend from college, he begged me to come so he's gonna drive us." You walked into the kitchen and sat your stuff down to look through the fridge for leftovers from last night.

"Your dad ate the leftovers," you groaned and closed the fridge in defeat, opting to make instant noodles instead, "that has a lot of sodium you know? And your friend, can he drive in the snow?"

"Yes, mom, we'll be fine, worse case scenario is that I have to stay with him, and he's right in town."

Your mother, still hesitant on letting you go, rubbed your back, "I trust you enough, I've seen it everytime you go to those crazy concerts, you are careful and mature, just be extra careful tonight."

"I will."

You were getting changed when your mother called you from the bottom of the stairs,"Y/n! There's a young man down here to see you, he's very handsome, his name is Ransom, where did you find him?"

You groaned loudly in annoyance, the down side was that your mother could be really embarrassed, on purpose. You grabbed a jacket and huffed down the stairs, seeing Ransom in your living room, he wore a black long sleeved shirt that hugged his arms and black jeans, it was definitely a shock to see him in darker colors.

"I found him in the trash at school, he looked like he needed a home," You joked with you mom, Ransom felt the burn from that comment but still held a smile on his face. "You look like you're about to go commit a crime."

"There was that one time in high school with the principal's car." Ransom laughed.

"Well, one person's trash is another's treasure, don't let me hold you two back, just be safe, and try to stay out of trouble." Your mom winked at the both of you before going back to her room.

You grabbed your keys and opened the front door, "let's get going, traffic is going to be a bitch."

The car ride with Ransom was going well, traffic would happen in certain parts but he made sure that the both of had something to talk about. By the time you arrived to the venue, snowflakes began to fall, you cursed your mom for being right all the time.

"Hopefully this snow won't be too bad on the way back," Ransom said, "you never told me who we were seeing."

"Dreams of Demise," you smiled, "they're band is from a small town but they're really good."

His eyebrows raised a little, "Holy shit, they sound a little intense." He laughed, opening the door to a large room filled with people and loud metal music playing, Ransom's eyes went wide, taking in everything around him.

You started laughing at his expression, "yeah, it's a little intense, you gonna be ok? You look like you're gonna piss yourself."

"I'll be fine, just gotta break in to this a little more." He said as you both made your way through the crowd to the stage, the band was starting to set up to play and the room was buzzing with excitement.

"Trust me, you'll either break in or be broken, just hope you can handle it." You smiled at him, watching his eyes light up with the same excitement.

"Well, I'm fucking ready to enjoy this."

You and Ransom walk out of the concert right when it was over, the snow had gotten heavier, more than a inches on the ground but it didn't stop the adrenaline that you both felt.

"THAT WAS AMAZING!" Ransom cheered as he ran out into the night, almost slipping on an ice patch. His hair, no longer in the posh pretty boy style, he looked disheveled and wild, it was a good look on him, at this point, he could make a potato sack look good.

"And you didn't die, I knew you could do it," You laughed, getting in the car, "and you even got yourself into a mosh pit, I'm proud, baby's first mosh."

"I want to go to another one, I know some of the bands you like,I could pay for us to go to another one." He turned on the car and dusted the snow off the windshield.

"Maybe, you don't have to pay, I make it by just fine."

The roads were clear of any cars as Ransom drove, the temperature dropped below freezing and he did his best to not slide on any black ice. About a half hour into the drive, you notice the road was blocked going towards your house, you both groaned, knowing that would add an extra hour to the trip back.

"Hey, this snow is getting worse, I don't live that far from here, it might be safe just to stay with me until some of this clears in the morning." Ransom said, pulling over to the side of the road, "If you're ok with that."

"There's no other choice right? I don't want you risking your life to get me home, if you're closer, then I'll stay." You were feeling slightly uncomfortable as you thought about staying the night with Ransom, you knew he lived on his own, you both started a friendship so it would be alright, right? Your stomach fluttered as you sighed.

"SLEEPOVER!" He yelled in the all too quiet car, scaring you back into reality.

"WHAT THE FUCK RANSOM?!" you went to smack his arm but stopped yourself when you saw the smallest flinch, he was pressed against the driver door, that hint of fear in his eyes shown for a brief moment.

"I just haven't had anyone sleep over in a while," he chuckled, "it'll be fun, I got food!"

You nodded, placing your hand on his shoulder, "then let's get going."

Ransom's house looked as you expected it to be, fancy, modern and simple. He pulled into the long driveway and into the garage, "it might be a little cold in here, I like it like that." He lead you up into the living room, hardwood floors with a fluffy rug that definitely was from an animal. You stood awkwardly in the threshold of the kitchen and living while you watch him move about.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the stairs, you followed him up the spiraling staircase until you reached the top, grey carpet was all throughout the upstairs, even in your boots you knew the material was something you couldn't even afford a square foot of. "This is gonna be your room tonight." He opened a door and flipped the lights on, the bed was a queen with grey wooden pillars, simple pillows and blankets laid neatly on it.

"Wow, you actually keep it clean in here." You laughed

"I have a cleaning lady come over every other day, she makes it look like I don't even use my bedroom," He laughed before showing you the bathroom, "and here's the bathroom, you can take a shower whenever, just be careful not to slip." Ransom walked into another room that you assumed was his, you waited by the door, taking peaks in. He came back out with clothing in his arms, "these might be a little big on you, but it's better than sleeping in concert clothes."

You took the clothes and smiled, "Thanks Ransom, you didn't have to do all this for me."

"That's what friends are for," he said, his eyes softly looking at you, you gave a strong yawn and wiped your eyes, "you should get some rest Y/n."

"I am," you walked over to the guest room and waved, "goodnight Ransom."

"Goodnight Y/n."

#ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #Tp&TP #the prince and the punk

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coyotesongwriting · 5 years

Text

Damned - Ch. 1

Avengers - Bucky Barnes/Reader

Chapter 1 - Baghdad

Story Summary: When your mission goes sideways and you find yourself locked up through a case of mistaken identity, you don’t see how things could get much worse. Until you find you have no way to contact the team or even let them know you’re alive. One disaster after another leaves you facing a series of impossible situations, and your very life hangs in the balance. Will Bucky find you in time or are you Damned?

Series Warnings: Abuse, Torture, Murder, Death, Graphic Descriptions Of Violence, Death Row, Jail, Assault, Threats of Sexual Assault, Abuse of Power, PTSD

Word Count: 3588

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this one! It’s going to be a darker fic, and I can’t promise that there’s going to be a happy ever after for this one. In fact, the ending of this fic is up to you guys! If you want your vote to be counted on whether or not there is a happy ending, go to this post and cast your vote.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Series Masterlist

The best part of being home was waking up pressed against Bucky’s chest. In the mornings after you two were finally reunited after a long mission, you’d wake up facing each other, your face buried in his chest. The two of you would usually stay up late on those nights, unwilling to look away as you memorized the other’s face. Your missions could keep you away for months, and since your assignments left you so deep undercover most of SHIELD didn’t know you existed, the two of you could often go weeks without getting to exchange a phone call or even texts. No matter how long the distance, the two of you always seemed to make it work though and you’d been together for four years now.

The worst times were when you’d return from a long mission only to find Bucky had been sent on his own assignment. Unfortunately, it was beginning to feel like Fury was against the two of you. You’d come back from a two-month mission in Japan to find Bucky was in the middle of an assignment in Peru. By the time he was coming home three weeks later, you already had your orders for your next mission in Baghdad. This next one was going to be a tough mission, you’d be going completely undercover with no one but your partners, Maya and Kevin, to have your back and you’d be out of contact with everyone for the duration of the mission. If things went right, you’d be home in 9 weeks, tops.

Bucky’s soft moan drew you back to the present as he brushed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He was always soft and gentle in the quiet mornings before the day started. The early morning sunlight danced across his face, lighting up his gorgeous eyes. God, he always looked so gorgeous in the morning light, not that he wasn’t always handsome but these moments where it was all softness were your favorite.

You let out a quiet hum as you leaned up, capturing his lips in yours. His warm hand slowly began to run down your side, and you let out a breathless chuckle as he rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his hand rested on your hip, but before things could go much farther your stomach let out a harsh growl.

Bucky had finally come home yesterday and after catching up with the rest of the team, you’d retreated to the room you shared. You’d stayed in your room all night, not leaving for anything - not even to eat dinner and it seemed like your stomach wasn’t a big fan of that decision. He laughed as you groaned in frustration, throwing your head back.

“Come on, Doll. Let’s get some food in you.”

“Bucky” you whined dramatically, “Can’t we stay in bed a little longer?”

“I wish we could, but did you hear your stomach? I don’t want you waking the whole tower.”

You shot him a playful glare, smacking his shoulder as you rolled off of him to lay on your back by him, “It wasn’t that loud, jerk”

“Whatever you say. Now come on. Fury will kill me if I let you leave without eating.”

You threw your arm over your eyes, “Don’t remind me. I can’t believe we don’t even get 24 hours this time.”

“I know. I was going to wait until after breakfast to tell you this but… I told Fury that when you get back from this mission I’m taking a month off and if he doesn’t like it? I don’t care.”

Your eyes lit up and you quickly moved to look at him, “Really?”

He nodded but before he could speak you’d leaned forward, crashing your lips against his. His hand found its way back to your body and your hands tangled in his hair. You never made it to breakfast, or out of the room at all until it was time to leave. In the end, you didn’t even have time to grab something from the kitchen, already running late.

“Really [Y/N]?” Maya laughed, throwing a brown paper bag at you as you stepped onto the Quinjet.

“Do you own a clock [Y/L/N]? We were supposed to be in the air 15 minutes ago.” Maria sighed, quickly finishing the pre-flight checklist and getting the jet into the air.

You were taking the Quinjet over to Ohio, and then you’d take a car down to Houston where you’d fly out from. Bucky had tried to convince Fury to let him fly it back, but Fury had wanted no part in that plan so instead, Maria was tasked with accompanying you two as far as Ohio.

“Sorry, got a bit held up” you smirked, opening the bag Maya had thrown to find a sandwich and chips. Maya knew you so well. You set the bag down for a moment, and curled your hands into the shape of a heart, mouthing ‘I love you’ before you began to dig in.

“Sure you did. Long night?” Maya winked, tossing her mousey brown hair over her shoulder. She’d been talking about chopping it off for a while now, but then Fury had told you about this mission and she’d been forced to wait until after unless she wanted to deal with a wig - her least favorite thing. All she’d talked about lately was finally getting to chop it off and rock a pixie cut.

“And morning.” you chuckled, quickly meeting her high five.

Maya had been your best friend since middle school when you’d both been sent to the same group home, and you’d quickly become joined at the hip. Maya had been abandoned as a newborn and had nothing from her birth family, even her name had been given to her by her caseworker. No home ever come for her and instead, she’d spent years bouncing from foster home to foster home. You’d never known your father, and when your mom died of a drug overdose you’d ended up in the system with her.

Luckily, you’d stayed at the same group home for a few years, and when you were removed from there due to overcrowding, your caseworker had managed to find a foster home who would take you both. As far as the rest of the world was concerned the two of you were sisters, and even the others had quickly learned not to try and argue otherwise.

You’d been there for each other through everything, from your first heartbreaks to when Maya was struggling with her sexuality. She’d eventually come to the conclusion that she was bisexual, and when your foster home tried to say that wasn’t a real thing, well, you’d managed to get kicked out for threatening to beat them up if they didn’t leave her alone. You’d ended up separated for a few months that time until your caseworkers could find a new home who would take both of you. After that, you’d both vowed to never be separated again, and you’d kept true to that.

When you turned 18, you both went off to a local college, working full-time jobs to afford your degrees. You ended up getting your bachelor’s in Criminal Justice, and Maya got a bachelor’s in Computer Science. You’d both decided to minor in Russian. By the time you’d graduated, you were both slightly obsessed with the idea of becoming spies and had enlisted in SHIELD. It hadn’t taken the two of you long to rise through the ranks, and you’d quickly caught Fury’s attention.

He’d begun placing you on harder and more secretive missions until he’d finally made the decision to have you work directly under him. Since neither of you had families, your deaths had been faked and new identities with no connection to SHIELD had been forged. For safety’s sake, you both had codes and fake names for the SHIELD emergency lines so you could get through if you needed help, but they were for extreme emergency use only.

The flight to Ohio passed quickly, you and Maya trading playful barbs about your relationships. She’d started dating this sweet girl at the coffee shop down the road, and for the first time, you’d actually approved of Maya’s relationship. Maya had the unfortunate penchant for picking the worst people, but this girl seemed perfect for her and you couldn’t wait to see where things went next for the two of them. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if they ended up married someday.

When you arrived in Houston, Kevin was waiting for you. Kevin was one of your least favorite people you’d ever met. An arrogant prick was putting it nicely and he always gave you bad vibes whenever he was around, but he was good at his job. Kevin was a professional driver and an amazing translator, one of the best in the business, he had never been in a situation he couldn’t get his way out of. He was fluent in more languages than you’d even heard of, so on this trip, he’d be helping out with any translation or getaways that you required.

~~~~~

“Miss Allen? The car is here.”

You looked up from the book you’d been pretending to read to glance at Maya as she spoke. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun, her hazel eyes scanning the busy hotel lobby. In her long pencil skirt and long-sleeved button-up, she looked every bit the respectable assistant. Of course, her clothing hid the knives that covered her body. She carried a gun or two at all times for safety’s sake, but she much preferred getting hands-on with a blade so she usually carried at least 5 different blades.

“Thank you, Annie” you smiled politely at Maya and ignored the short glare she shot your way, knowing just how much she hated her fake name this time around. There’d been an awful bully in one of the foster homes named Annie, so Maya was pretty displeased when Maria gave her that identity. You’d already been in Baghdad for six weeks, so if everything went as planned today she’d be done with the name in another week or two.

Fury had received information that SHIELD weapons were being sold illegally and had needed someone to investigate, but since SHIELD was involved he had to be very careful who he put on the mission. No one at SHIELD knew you and Maya existed except for Maria Hill and Fury, so you two were the obvious pick.

The two of you walked to the car in silence, it was time to head to your meeting with Mr. Bahar who was selling the weapons. On this mission you were a businesswoman from Canada who ran a small agency responsible for the safety of celebrities abroad, come to buy some weapons and Maya was acting as your personal assistant.

The ride passed quickly, neither of you wanting to speak too freely in front of Kevin. He’d never been outright rude towards either of you, he merely liked to think he was God’s gift to the world and so that made him a miserable conversation partner. Thankfully, it was only a short ride to Mr. Bahar’s home where you hoped the deal would finally be sealed. As soon as he sold you the weapons, you could begin tracing them back to where he was getting them, and then you could just do some clean up before heading home.

Home. You couldn’t wait to have one month with Bucky, no missions, no trips, just the two of you getting to finally be together. This would be the longest time you’d get to spend together in one stretch in almost two years and the thought of it had you wanting to race home now. Hopefully, the mission would continue to go smooth, and you’d be back in his arms within two weeks.

Mr. Bahar was there to greet you as you climbed out of the car in the courtyard of his home. Bahar had signaled for Kevin to stay behind with the vehicle, but you’d quickly explained he was your translator and Mr. Bahar had frowned slightly but had waved him along as well. You and Bahar exchanged polite small talk as he led you through his home.

Bahar’s guards were everywhere, and you quickly began to count, memorizing their faces and stations as you headed in. His house was large, and the office he led you to was very carefully decorated. From the set up of the room and lack of any computer, you immediately knew this office was merely a decoy, not the place where he truly got his work done. Maya took a seat next to you on the couch while Kevin stood behind you, his face unreadable.

The meeting was boring, long ago the standard illegal weapon purchases had become so commonplace you could just about handle them with your eyes closed. Everything went according to plan, a price and delivery location finally agreed on. You slipped a bug into the couch as you headed out of the office. When the time to leave was drawing near, Maya asked if she could use the restroom. When they pointed her down the right hallway, she slipped off to go plant some more bugs throughout the house and find the real office.

The minutes ticked by as you made more small talk with Bahar, regaling him with tales of your favorite soccer games. It had been too long. Maya should have been back by now, and Bahar was beginning to grow suspicious. You could see the wariness in his eyes as he began to study you and Kevin, and you opened your mouth, preparing to offer an excuse for her absence. Before you could say a word, gunshots rang out through the courtyard. You and Kevin dove to take shelter in an alcove on the side of the home.

Bahar’s guards shoved him towards their SUV, but before they made it even a few feet they were gunned down, collapsing onto the sand at his feet. Bahar turned to you, his eyes wild with panic as he began to race towards you. He didn’t even take two steps before another shot echoed and the back of his head seemed to explode. He fell, his vacant eyes staring up at you as blood seeped out the gunshot in his forehead.

“We need to get Maya” you growled to Kevin, drawing your favorite pistol from its holster.

Kevin didn’t say a word, merely nodding his head as you lead the way carefully towards the side door a few feet to your left. Your heart pounded as adrenaline coursed through your veins, you couldn’t see the shooters on the roof, they were on the building directly above you and you could only pray they didn’t see you. The stars seemed to be on your side as you both managed to slip through the door before the sand exploded behind you with a missed shot.

The hallway you’d slipped into was thankfully deserted, and you nodded your head towards the archway on the left. Kevin didn’t argue, merely nodded his head and pulled his gun, heading off on his own as you headed right. He may be an ass, but he was good at his job and he would do everything in his power to find Maya, of that you could at least be certain.

You slipped down hall after hall, rounding corners quickly. The building was deadly silent, the quiet only broken by the occasional crack of a gunshot and you found yourself praying that it wasn’t your team getting shot. Your ears strained, searching for any sounds, a whimper of pain or the slow thud of footsteps to give you any clue as to what was going on.

The creak of a door to your left gave you just enough to move before the vase behind you shattered into a million pieces, the ceramic raining down to the floor with a loud clatter. You whirled to face your attacker, the shot ripping from your gun as you squeezed the trigger. The man didn’t stand a chance, the bullet piercing his eye and he crumpled to the ground.

You didn’t even spare him a second glance as you rounded the corner and came face to face with a heavy wooden door. You pushed the door open and the door fought back, something had fallen against the door and you struggled to get it open enough for you to slip through. You didn’t look at what it was until you were in the room, and once you did you felt the air fly from your lungs as your knees slammed into the cool marble floor.

Time stopped as lifeless hazel eyes stared up at the ceiling and a whimper tore itself from your throat as you studied Maya. You were frozen, unable to move for the longest time as you studied her. She lay in a pool of blood, her pale yellow shirt stained with the vibrant red. You could see the hole in her shirt, directly over her heart and knew that her death had been instant. The stillness that had overcome you was broken, and you set your gun down, scooping Maya’s body up in your arms and clutching her to your chest.

Thoughts began to race through your head, memories of everything you’d been through flying past and the promises you’d yet to fulfill seemed to fill your mind. She’d never get her happily ever after, she’d never get to go to the bar with you again. You’d never stay up late with her talking about love and loss and she’d never help you prank Bucky again. Realizations of everything lost in that one gunshot were all that it took to leave you sobbing, all memories of the warzone outside the door forgotten as you held your dead sister.

Her head lolled back in your grasp and you pulled her tighter to you, not even noticing the red that began to sink into your own clothing. You didn’t notice the door opening, didn’t register the hand on your shoulder until they tried to pull you back away from her. You shrugged out of their grasp, not even looking at them, not caring.

“We need to go. They’re killing everyone they find” Kevin’s voice was soft but determined.

You barely heard him speak. It was like being underwater, his voice muffled and distant. You were too lost in your thoughts, too lost in the memories to care. After everything you’d faced with Maya, with every battle you’d won and fight you’d lost, a mission as simple as this should never have been her downfall. Kevin’s hand squeezed your shoulder, and his repeated calls of your real name finally seemed to pull you out, and you realized for the first time that the low keening you’d been hearing was you.

“[Y/N]. We have to go. Now” Kevin tried to pull you away again.

You shot him a death glare, your voice breaking as you spoke, “No. I’m not, I’m not leaving her.”

“Maya wouldn’t want you to die too,” he growled. Footsteps were drawing near, and you were supposed to be in charge.

He swept your pistol up from the ground and began to pull you away from her body. You fought him, struggling to remain with her, only giving up once he slid your pistol back into your hand. Kevin had locked the door and as the door handle began to jiggle, he pulled you from the room through the window.

You managed to spare one last glance behind at Maya’s body, her head had fallen facing the window when Kevin had pulled you away, and her gaze seemed to be locked onto you. After a long moment, you tore your eyes from hers, wiping the tears from your eyes as Kevin pulled you towards the car. Dust began to rise in the air from the tires as you sped away, leaving Maya lying alone on the floor.

~~Five Days Later~~

“You wanted to see us?” Bucky asked, taking a seat at the conference room table, the last one in like always.

The whole team had gathered, and Fury stood at the head of the table. His face was unreadable as always, but there was an unexpected tension in the room and Bucky began to grow impatient, tapping his fingers methodically on the coffee mug in his hands when Fury didn’t speak right away.

Fury’s voice was steady as he spoke, “Five days ago, [Y/N]’s team went for a meeting with a man suspected of selling SHIELD weapons to anyone with the money. We lost all contact with the team after a shootout.” Bucky sat up ramrod straight, his heart beginning to race as Fury continued, “Unfortunately, we can now confirm that Maya was killed in the fight. We identified her body this morning. Kevin and [Y/N] are missing, and we have been unable to find or contact them. We’re doing our best.”

Silence fell over the room, everyone afraid to be the first to speak. No one wanted to be the one to ask if you were dead if they Fury thought there was even a chance you were still alive. A loud crash broke the silence as the mug in Bucky’s hand shattered, coffee spilling all over the table.

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Taglist: @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @queenoftheunderdark@redfoxwritesstuff @brokenthelovely @collinsstanharbour @samsgoddess @imma-new-soul @firefly-in-darkness @wolfiegal98 @brynnloh

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #Fanfic #Marvel The Avengers #Marvel's The Avengers #marvels the avengers #Marvel's Avengers #marvel #Avengers #The Avengers #reader insert

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a-girl-with-a-big-heart · 6 years

Text

Cold Coffee

Twice Chaeyoung x Reader

Fluff

Prompt: You hire a new employee to work at your coffee shop.

It was almost 7 when you started cleaning up the small coffee shop before opening time. You owned the place, and since you lived directly above it, it was nice having the place to yourself for a bit before people started showing up. You’ve only had this shop for 2 years, and you’ve made so much money during the short time. You recently finished college and decided that you wanted to travel around the world. But you were broke, so you had this little coffee shop that was passed down to you from a distant relative. You were kind of hesitant at first taking over, but your love for coffee quickly changed your mind.

After you finished sweeping, you started taking down chairs and warming up the place with some music. You hear the little bell ring and you look at your watch. It was only 7:35. You thought you locked the door.

"Sorry, we're not opening until another 25 minutes." You say to the person who just walked in. You averted your eyes to the front and get a good look at who the person was. It was a young girl. A very young girl. In the dim light, you noticed she had a mole on her chin. She was cute, you admit, but you were still telling her to leave. "You can't be here." You said again, more aggravated.

"Oh, no I'm the new employee. We talked over the phone a couple days ago?" She says. You watch her move to put her bag down on one of the empty tables as you try to recall that memory. It suddenly hits you like a truck.

"Oh! Right, sorry. Um..." The girl looks at you skeptical.

"Chaeyoung." She says her name slowly as if you forgot, which you totally have.

"Chaeyoung." You say. Her name sounds pretty. "Do you think you can set up the rest of the chairs?" You ask her. She looks around for a moment, and the way she turned her head made the sunlight from the window make the side of her face to look angelic. She had soft skin and you suddenly had the urge to want to caress her cheeks between your palms.

"Sure, no problem." She smiled at you, but it looked forced. You can't believe you forgot about the phone call. "Where can I change?"

"What? Oh, right." You felt stupid as the words tumbled out of you. "In the back, to your left." You point behind you with your thumb. She jerks her chin in that direction and grabs her bag from the table she set it on.

"Thanks." You watch her make her way through the room as her hips swayed side to side. You can't help but notice her figure. She was short, but you weren’t that tall. If anything, as her shoulders brushed by, you could see just slightly over the top of her head. She smelled nice. It was such a sweet smell. You make a mental note in your head to ask her what perfume she uses, because it is heavenly. When she goes to the backroom, you can feel your heart calming. You run a hand through your hair and sigh deeply.

"This is going to be a long day." You say to no one in particular.

It's already been an hour since you’ve opened the shop, and so far, it's been a slow long hour. Chaeyoung surprised you at making different lattes and coffee's. You faintly remember her saying that she was a novice, and didn't know much about being a barista, but it turns out that she is amazing. She's amazing. You wonder what she can't do. You don't normally let the newbies handle behind the machine on their first day, but Chaeyoung was a natural.

"Hey, y/n." Snapping you out of my thoughts, you turn to Jackson. One of your other employees. He's been a friend of yours that you’ve recently known from college.

"We're out of soy milk." He shakes one of the containers from the back room where you keep most of the coffee beans and other necessities.

"How can we be out of it already? I restocked the back room last week." You hear Chungha poke behind you. She's been working at the shop since the beginning. Since you’re all around the same age, you let them call you by your name. You thought it'd be weird if they called you boss. You felt like some sort of big shot, when you’re not. You sigh, raking a hand through your hair.

"Um, boss." You turn around and hear a shy voice call out. It was Chaeyoung. She fiddled with her fingers and wasn't meeting eye contact.

"Y/n." You tell her. "Just call me y/n." She finally looks up, and you notice her eyes shift between the three of you.

"I'm sorry, I'm the one to blame. I accidentally messed up an order and used it all." She massages her knuckles over and over.

"How many times?" You hear Chungha ask. Chaeyoung doesn't look at her.

"Five." She whispers. Before Chungha could pounce on her, the young girl quickly pipes up. "But I was going to get more, I swear."

"When?" The young brunette asked. You could tell Jackson was ready to stop Chungha before she went all alpha on the young girl.

"During my break, but I didn't know when it would be. I'm so sorry." Chaeyoung says it again with desperation in her voice. With Jackson holding Chungha back, you quickly looked at the time.

"You got 15 minutes. Be back no later." You tell her. She looks at you with thankful eyes and quickly dashes to the backroom. Chungha and Jackson watch the girl leave on her bicycle as she heads down the road. You can't help but notice a cute little plush toy hanging off one of her handles. You felt like you let Chaeyoung get the benefit of the doubt on this one. Ever since your other barista, Mark left, the shop was in desperate need of a good barista. You felt that you shouldn't have thrown her into the deep end right away. I guess Chaeyoung isn't perfect like I made her out to be. Of course everyone has their flaws. But five times. She's definitely dedicated you’ll give her that. She tried her best to make a drink perfect. She's trying her best. You remind myself. This is only her first day.

"You're being way to easy on the new girl." You hear Chungha poke beside you. She takes an order from one of your usual customers. "Where's the y/n we know? She'd be pissed if that was just anyone." Chungha stated. Jackson came from around the corner after wiping down one of the tables.

"I think I know." He states, laying a dirty rag down in front of the two of you. "Y/n here likes this one." He gives you this sly smirk as if he knows. You don't deny the fact.

"So what?" You bark back. Chungha and Jackson give each other a look as if they were communicating telepathically.

"You must separate your personal feelings from your work." Chungha exclaims tending back to the counter.

"I know." You say, running a hand through your hair. Jackson gives you a knowing look. "I know." You say again, because you mean it. Just then, Chaeyoung comes in through the front door with a few bottles of soy milk in her hand. She struggles to get by customers who wont budge. You watch Jackson go over and help her, and you make your way behind the counter. Chungha gives you three orders at once, and you immediately get to work. You work on a cold ice latte first. Next is a dry cappuccino with extra foam, added with-you squint at the paper. Almond milk? You don't question it as you continue making the drinks. Lastly is a simple Americano. As you’re making the coffee, you can't help but notice Chaeyoung walking around the room, sweeping here and there from underneath tables. You silently watch her with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her apron loosely hanging around her waist. How is it possible to look so perfect while still doing absolutely nothing in return?

"Separate your feelings from your work." You hear Chungha whisper to me. You only shoo her away and continue what you were doing before.

The day was almost over and Chungha left to go to her other job. Jackson still stayed behind, but since it's almost closing time, there weren't a many people as there were in the morning. You don't have a specific time for when they come in to work or leave. This place is kind of secluded from the outside world. It's better that way but, it's also kind of lonely just being here. Chaeyoung was working the counter this time, Chungha remembered before she left to show Chaeyoung the do's and don't's of the register. She seemed to pick up things rather quickly, so there was no need to explain things twice to her. Unless she really needed the help, then that was rare to come by.

You hear the familiar bell ring as someone entered the shop, ten minutes from closing time. You walk from behind the back room, where you were briefly discussing to Jackson about why he should pay rent on time. Apparently he's been letting his roommate do all the work on his behalf. You kind of felt bad for whoever his roommate is. You tie your apron around your waist to get ready to make an order. You hear Chaeyoung greet the customer and just as you look up, you hear that familiar voice that you once fell in love with.

"I'm looking for..." His words trailed off as your eyes met. His smile grew wider on his face and you froze. "Y/n." He says your name and you’re perplexed.

"What are you doing here?" Your voice is sharp. Chaeyoung looks between the two of you, not knowing what to do.

"I came to see you." He says. "I've been thinking a lot about us and–" you stop him.

"There is no us. Not anymore." It's been more than 6 months since you broke up. Why is he here? "You need to leave." You tell him. You try not to lose your cool in front of your newest employee.

"I know that's not what you want." His eyes grow darker and his voice dropped an octave lower. You pinch your arm underneath your apron.

"Look, please, just go." Your voice is quiet and distant. You don't even know if that was you anymore who stood in front of him. You see his mind racing. He's about to speak but Chaeyoung interrupts.

"Look, she obviously doesn't want you here. You're making her uncomfortable, and we're about to close soon. You should leave before making a scene." You were taken aback by what she said, and so was he.

"Or what?" He mimicked. Chaeyoung nodded her head toward the front where two officers got out of a cop car.

"Or things will get ugly." Her voice was pristine and clear. Unlike yours. He noticed the cops outside and gave you a low stare before leaving. You watched him hurry the opposite direction, while the two officers went into the shop next door. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You felt your legs grow as if they were jello as you sink to the floor. Your back pressed against the counter boards.

"Thank you." You tell her in a shaky breath. Chaeyoung squats in front of you and holds your hand in hers. They were soft and smooth. You close your eyes to concentrate on anything but your racing heart.

"Where are your keys to the shop?" She asks. You don't ask why she wants them, but you take them out of your pocket and hand them to her. You hear her moving to the front door, and that familiar click. The next thing you know, she hands the keys back to your and sits on the cold ground. You feel her knees touch yours and you finally open your eyes. Her round brown eyes were staring into yours and you couldn't look away. "Who was that?" She finally asked. You dreaded telling her the answer. This is only her first day and she's seeing her boss on the floor in a shaky mess. How uncool.

"My ex." You tell her. She doesn't flinch, but for some reason, you see disappointment flicker in her eyes. "We broke up months ago because he had some issues." You pause. "I'm sorry you had to witness that." Her hand grazed your knee and for a moment, it felt like the word had stopped.

"Hey, it's okay. I've dealt with my fair share of jerks in the past." She gives you this goofy lopsided smile and it takes your very being not to pull her into you and kiss her.

"Thanks. Again." You bite the inside of your cheek. She's too close. You lose control of yourself for a moment and reach out your hand to touch her cheek. They were softer than you imagined. Her plump lip was just begging to be touched with your own. Subconsciously, your thumb traced her bottom lip. Your mind was going crazy at the thought of kissing her. It didn't look like she had any intention of moving, so you took that chance to lean in. Your noses barely touched before you heard Jackson's loud voice boom from the back room.

"Y/n! I think I'm gonna head out now. Don't forget to–" He stops mid sentence, and both you and Chaeyoung jerk away from each other. "Oh." You see Jackson's lips tug into a smirk. "Sorry. Continue doing what you were doing. Don't mind me." Jackson laughed as he headed out using the backdoor. Your cheeks were red as you looked over at Chaeyoung. Her hands were covering her face, and you found that adorable. Once she recomposed herself, she looked back at you.

"I should be going too." She quickly stands up and you mentally punch Jackson a thousand times in your head for interrupting your moment. She goes into the back to change and you finally get up off the cold ground. As you wait for her to come out, you start stacking up all the chairs faster than what you usually do. When she comes back out, you give her a smile.

"Let me walk you out." You tell her. She doesn't object and the two of you go to the front where her bike was parked. You watch her unhook her chain and put it in her backpack. Her little plush toy was dangling from her handle, and you can't help but play with it. She notices your actions and you hear her giggle.

"His name is Moo." You cock an eyebrow.

"Moo?" She smiles widely. You can't help but return it. "You did good today." You say lamely. "Thanks again about earlier." You probably thanked her ten times in the past ten minutes. You really do feel bad for her having to witness that on her first day.

"Don't mention it." She replies. "I'll see you tomorrow." She says. You feel your heart shake as you watch her get on her bike. But before she pulls away, soft lips touch your cheek. "Bye." She whispers the word in your ear and before you could do or say anything back, she was gone. You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest. You fear it would jump out of you and chase after her. You could only stand there as you watched her ride further and further away, with a hand on your cheek, and a smile on your lips.

#kpop #girl groups #kpop girl groups #twice #twice scenarios #chaeyoung #chaeyoung scenarios #girl group scenarios

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angelynrostrand · 5 years

Text

Chapter 20

Summary: To the outside world, nothing should connect shy girl Angel Monroe and popular boy Xavier Hazelwood. But that isn't entirely true. They both hold secrets. Behind both of them lie 2 separate wolf packs. Xavier is well on his way to Alpha status and running the pack. Angel is not a wolf but instead the last healer in the world. When the realization comes forward that they are connected by destiny, will they decide to fulfill it? Is their connection predetermined by fate or will they choose their hearts? Lives and packs cross and mingle while romance and conflict brews. The story of 2 opposite souls on a collision path. Will destiny win out? Even the most innocent face, has the darkest secrets.

Word Count: 2,566

Thank God it is Friday. This week has been crazy. Between going back to school, getting ambushed, becoming somewhat popular, then trying to fix a tree that was destroyed by my mistakes, I am happy this week is over. I finish my homework for the week in my room alone. While placing my binder back in my school bag, I bump my desk causing all my papers to cover my floor. Tired and disappointed, I lower myself to the floor to pick it all up. As I do, I look at the art competition flyer that Miller gave me. I need to make a decision. Xavier wants me to do it and he has been texting me over and over telling me to. Annoying but cute that he wants me to join. I sit at my desk and use my laptop to do more research on it. I look at last years winner. He made a statement about how the money helped a lot in his first year of college at NYU. Next to the article, it has a photo of him with his prize and the judges. The more I do my research, the more I convince myself to do it. The official website has this years judges and a list of the competitors from high schools across the state. I scroll to find my name. I’m a little amused. It’s a reminder to make a decision. May 18th is the day of the competition. I open a new tab to email Miller and agree with joining in. If it will help with tuition money, I am all about it. I don’t want my father to pay for everything. I am always drawing, painting or shading might as well get money from it. If I win or if I don’t, at least I tried.

With the send button pushed, my brother comes in my room and slumps over onto my perfectly made bed. I laugh at this body language. He must be tired from this week too. He has been an amazing Alpha and leader. He was able to calm down the press and continues to please my father and the pack. “Yes, can I help you?” I turn my wheelie chair to face him.

“I’m hungry and death is coming.” He says looking up at my ceiling.

“I’m sorry, What do you want for dinner? Should I go get the kitchen staff to save you from your death,” I say.

“I already let them go for the week. We are on our own for dinner. All I know is that I am hungry and I need food in my system.” It is true wolves burn off their calories faster than humans, so they are always hungry.

I know we need to go grocery shopping. I couldn’t go last week due to my imposed bed rest, but maybe I should go now before it gets darker. “Do you still have a lot of work to do?” I ask

“Sadly yes. I have been receiving reports from father in Paris and...other stuff.” He says. He didn’t finish his sentence knowing father probably told him not to tell me anything else about the attack. But he has been working hard. I should cook dinner tonight.

“Okay, how about this,” I stand to collect my purse, my shoes, and my brother off my bed making him stand up, “finish work and I will go to the store. I will make dinner for us.” His mood lightens up at the thought of food. We walk out of my room and downstairs. “What would you like to eat?”

“I don’t know. I am feeling something like pasta.” Sounds good to me.

“Okay. I will go, but you need to finish work.” I push him back to the direction of his office.

“Wait wait wait. Before you go, take my car. So I can track you if something happens.” He hands me his keys. I was hoping to take my bike. I frown but obey. “Text me when you arrive and when you are about to leave. I need you safe. Yes?”

“Yes, Sir.” I stick my tongue out. When is he going to be less protective?

Within 15 minutes, I arrive at my local grocery store. I wrestle with the shopping cart to untangle the mess. I walk around to get our basic foods like bread, eggs, veggies, fruit, and meat. A lot of meat. I have never met a vegan wolf. They love their meat. It’s no joke they take their meat very seriously. While walking around I receive an email from Ms. Miller. I feel the vibration of my phone. It is confirmation from her along with resources like the fact I am able to use the art room after class. Her personal number if I need help. I read through the email and am pleased that I have her on my side guiding me through my first comp. At the end of the email, she apologizes about the little lie but is glad I am participating. I become so focused on my phone I run into a little boy. Well, the little boy ran into me. Literally, he was running around and bumped into my legs. He fell back onto the floor.

“Oh my! Are you ok?” I help his little body to stand up. I kneel down to match his level. “Hey, honey are you ok?” I ask one more time, sweeter. I give him a smile to make him feel comfortable around me. He is a cute little boy with light brown hair. Lighter than my hair, but he has brilliant blue eyes.

“I think so.” He smiles back. “I am sorry Miss. Did I hurt you? I didn’t see where I was going. I was playing.” He’s so cute especially for apologizing.

“No, I am ok. You should be careful next time.” I gently talk to him. “Where’s your mom or dad.” I don’t see any parents searching for him or calling for him. Is he lost?

“There are not here, but my brother is.” He looks back but no one is behind him. “He was here. He was playing with me. I don’t know where he went.” The little boy starts to get fussy and scared.

“That’s ok. We can find him. What’s your name?” We shuffle into a corner so we are not in other people’s way.

“Teddy? Teddy!” I hear a male calling out. It must be his brother. I stand up and look for him, brother. To find the stranger calling out. The voice gets closer and closer. I finally see his brother. Xavier? Xavier is his brother. This town is too small. Of course, Xavier’s little brother would run into me. I lift Teddy to my hip so Xavier can see Teddy at eye level rather than looking down for his small body. Teddy gladly lets me carry him.

“Xavier?” I call out to get his attention. “Xavier, does this one belongs to you?” I ask and hand over Teddy.

“Oh my god. Teddy. Please don’t ever do that again.” He holds him so close. Teddy wraps his small arms around Xavier’s neck. “I’m sorry.” He whispers to Teddy’s ear. I became in awe with the two siblings. It reminds me of my brother. Xavier’s looks like he can finally breathe. His love for his brother is cute. They look inseparable. But they don’t look anything alike. Xavier has more of an olive skin tone and Teddy skin is a cream color. Xavier’s eyes are dark brown and he has black hair. Still, I smile from ear to ear. I thought Xavier couldn’t get any cuter, but I realize I was wrong the moment I see him with Teddy. “Well, it looks like you were in good hands.” He mentions me and I shift my eyes so I’m no longer staring at the brothers.

“Oh, it’s fine.”

“Thank you again. You saved me and Teddy.” Xavier says and lets Teddy down to his own two feet. “My mom would tear me apart if I lost Teddy.”

“I’m just glad he is safe.” I smile back to Teddy. My heart always dies inside when I look at the missing children news at the local grocery store. Poor parents, poor child.

“Wait, you guys are friends?” the little voice at Xavier’s feet says.

“Yes, we are. Remember I told you about a girl named Angel. She is my mate.” He tells Teddy and looks back at me with oh shape mouth. Finally understanding who I am.

“Ohhh,” then whispers to Xavier, “she’s really pretty.”

“I know.” He whispers back. Even Teddy can make me blush and shy. The Hazelwood boys have to be related. They both are able to make me flustered.

“What are you guys doing here?” I try to change the topic.

“Last minute run for some ingredients. My mom sent me on a mission to get seasonings and tomatoes. But before we could, Teddy and I got distracted,” He tells me.

“Ya, I noticed.”

“Xavier, can I go back to Angel? I want her to hold me,” Teddy asks his older brother.

Goodness, he is so cute. Of course, you can! I want to scream out. My heart continues to melt for his boy. “How about you can sit in the cart?” With a quick nod, I take him from Xavier and place him in the child seat. “Sorry, Xavier I am taking him.” I stroll away from Xavier with Teddy laughing in my ear. Sadly, Xavier jogs and catches up with us. As I push the cart, Xavier stays next to me as we both do our own shopping. Teddy likes to play with my long hair. I don’t mind. Sometimes I brush the ends of my hair to his nose causing him to giggle. I bet it does tickle his nose.

“What is your favorite color?” Teddy asks.

“Yellow,” I respond.

“I like yellow. I also like purple.”

“What is your favorite class?”

“Art. What about you?”

“I like to play outside.”

What is your favorite food?”

“Pp and J,” Teddy says and goes back to asking questions.

I almost forgot Xavier was here until he makes a comment about “Stealing me.”

“Can you come to my party?” Teddy sweetly asks. I give Xavier a confused look.

“It’s like a birthday party for him. We finally finished the paperwork for my parents to adopt Teddy. We are celebrating him joining the Alpha family and his birthday is only in a couple of days. So we thought we can celebrate everything on one day.”

That makes more sense. They don’t really look alike and when I first met Xavier he said he was an only child until now. Things are making sense. I want to know more and why. Why? But I don’t want to be nosy. My curiosity is killing me to know more. I have been so caught up with my own life that I forget to ask about Xavier’s. He has his own problems and his own happiness that I am not aware of. I had no idea his family would be adopting. It’s a big change and I should be there to celebrate with him. Like how he has been for me. “Umm...I would love to come if that is alright with you,” I ask Xavier.

With a big smile, he says, “Yes, of course.” I give him the same type of smile.

“Yeah! Angel, is coming!” Little Teddy cheers.

We finish our shopping and make our way to the checkout line. We wait and wait until we both split into different checkout clerks. Teddy stayed with me in his seat as Xavier pay for his separate foods. Since he had less stuff to buy he came back to my line. I had a week's worth of food. We wait patiently as the older women scam each item. Xavier plays with Teddy so he doesn’t get bored waiting. I soon joined in.

Then the women muffle a small awe sound, catching our attention. “You guys are so cute. I just love young newlyweds.”

My eyes bolt out of my eyes from the lady’s mistake. “Oh no...we…” I try to stay calm and polite but her comment caught me off guard that no words seem to come out.

“Thank you, we are so happy together,” Xavier says as he pulls me in a side hug and playing into this mistake. My head whip to look at him with a slightly angry expression. What is he doing?

Then Teddy joins in, “I love you,” and jumps out of the seat to stand. His arms stretch out for me to carry him once again.

“What a cute family!” she continues. Do I really look that old enough where I am married and a mother? Xavier doesn’t look like your typical high schooler. Me? I think I look like my age. My hands are full and Xavier gives the lady my card to pay. All the food is bagged and in my cart. I am still shaking that just happened and I stood there like an idiot. I didn’t know how to explain that we are not together. Xavier is my friend? My mate? Boyfriend? This is his soon to be adopted brother? His brother in general? My words and voice were lost in that store. We just walk out with Xavier pushing the cart and Teddy still in my arms.

We make our way to my brother’s car. I finally ask, “Why did you do that?” Not angry but confused why he wants people to think we are a married couple with a child.

“Because it was fun. Look there was no harm done. It was fun to play along with her scenario. I do think we would make a lovely couple. Do you think so, son?”

“It was fun. Let’s do it again.”

“No. Let’s not.” I can’t believe a young boy like Teddy understood what was happening and played along like Xavier. Are you sure you guys aren’t blood-related? I want to ask. “You guys are crazy and I have to go and cook dinner.” I hand “my son” to “my husband”, but Teddy’s grip is strong.

“Come on buddy you have to let go,” Xavier encourages.

“I don’t want to. I want to stay with Angel.” He starts to throw a fit.

“Teddy we can hang out later. I’ll see you at your party and we can play. Ok? But I need to go.” I try to speak softly and slow enough for him to understand. He nods and goes back to Xavier’s arms.

I say my final goodbyes to the Hazelwood boys and drive back home. The more I think about it, it was kind of funny. Then I soon laugh the rest of the way home. Xavier is still mad for doing that and trying to act like a married couple for that poor lady. She didn’t know any better but do we really look like newlyweds? The thought shivers down my spine. It’s too fast to think like that. I’m too young. I can’t think about that. But why do I smile when I think about Xavier as my husband? I shake my head to clear my thoughts. It’s a silly thought. An immature thought.

#in an ordinary world #healer #soulmates #writing #werewolf #wolf pack

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