#it's a fucking disaster but it's more comfortable than sitting at a card table in my bedroom

[moonlight-at-dawn]

I HATH RECLAIM-ED MINE DESK

[imglowinginthedarkness]

revamped some of my old mlp ocs !! lil bios and whatnot under the cut (o´〰`o)♡*✲ﾟ*。

Valentine

agender! they/it

their friends call them Vee!

their talent is writing those really cheesy and dumb valentines day cards that come in packs of like 24 at michaels. at least, that’s what they tell anyone who asks

a cutie pie, knows it, and often uses their looks to get what they want

their dad is a changeling and their mom is a pony. their birth was unnatural and 70% magic

bit sketchy ngl. lil bit of a bitch. talks behind people’s backs

loves their gf Cheshire and though they tease her a lot, if anyone else says anything even kind of mean to or about her Vee will literally kill them

Cheshire

Vee’s anxious bat pony girlfriend

lives in the woods

cries when she walks into table corners

her talent is talking to rodents? she can’t talk to any other animal but rats and mice love her

kind of a dumbass but tries her best. just has no braincells

can and will dissolve into tears at any second

usually found with a multitude of scratches from various encounters with unfriendly creatures in the Everfree Forest

nonbinary! she/her

Rag Doll

everyone calls them Doll

their talent is making crochet stuffed animals

an absolute sweetheart and is, like, a suspiciously good person. they probably murdered someone in a past life

has a very gentle kind voice and lovely doe eyes

demi gal! they/she

nonbinary lesbian :)

the kind of person everyone falls at least a little bit in love with

adopted kid of Twilight Sparkle and Sunset Shimmer

Rainstorm

her friends call her Rain, her family calls her Rainstorm

mute, uses pegasus sign language to talk

gf of Sterling and basically the only pony Sterling actually gives a shit about

her talent is aerial dancing

has a twin brother called Typhoon who isn’t around much but Rain still loves him

quiet and thoughtful. very introspective and usually keeps to herself, though she’s not antisocial

is bi! used to go out with a guy from the dance studio she attends

Sterling

defensive and closed off, doesn’t like being vulnerable

gf of Rain and would literally die for her, since she’s pretty much the only person who genuinely seems to enjoy Sterling’s company

her talent is jewelry making

has had a multitude of admirers but has scared off literally every potential romantic partner (except for Rain, of course)

disaster lesbian

has been in love with Rain since they were foals

volunteers at Cheerilee’s school even though she claims she doesn’t like kids 

Hazelnut Spread

goes by Hazel or Hazelnut

honestly a bit stuck up but really does mean well

more loyal to her family than anything else

claims she doesn’t like Doll because they’re “too nice”. actually secretly has a huge dumb crush on them and hates the fact that they make her feel all warm and fuzzy inside

her talent is making those super fancy crepes that look amazing but are really impractical to eat

her mom is Pinkie Pie, her bio dad is Pokey Pierce

trans-femme!

Marzipan Mascarpone Meringue Madness

has like a hundred nicknames cause their name is a fucking mouthful. mainly goes by Marzi but is also called Mads by their family

SO loud like jesus christ bitch please fucking chill

its talent is making rock candy that doubles as hallucinogens

has ADHD and physically cannot sit still

the “rebel child” but in name only. she loves her family and they approve of everything she does (except Hazel but, you know)

pangender! they/she/he/it/xe/fae/whatever else, marzi’s not picky

xer mom is Pinkie Pie, xer bio dad is Cheese Sandwich

does a lot of ecstasy and shrooms

Chestnut

her talent is making really wonderful coffee. like it’s not fancy or anything, it’s just normal coffee, but it’s the best and most comforting you’ll ever taste

trans-femme!

very warmhearted and welcoming. has a knack for making others feel safe around her

everyone calls her by her full name, but Jagged Note calls her ‘Chex’ sometimes

constantly stressed out, deals with a lot of anxiety though she manages to hide it well. more or less. sorta

Jagged Note

Chestnut’s loving bf

known to everyone as Jay

his talent is making hyper pop scream-o music

trans-masc! he and chestnut are T4T :)

very chill and laidback, thus is the one to calm chestnut down when she gets overwhelmed 

claims to be punk and badass even though he cries at that one chef boyardee commercial 

[pridewhatpride]

do you have any gx rivalshipping hcs!! im super curious on your take of them :]

When I saw this ask my immediate reaction was thinking: "Yes, I have an excuse to talk about gx rivalshipping, YES."

So yeah. I love this ship a lot, like a whole damn lot and it's a little hard to explain why, especially when gx has so many open possibilities for romances involving Judai. By which I mean two, really, and Manjoume is not one of them (sadly for me). I am referring to Yubel and Johan, by the way, I refuse to acknowledge Asuka as a love interest.

I'll start off with a bit of fluff headcanons?

Manjoume thinks Winged Kuriboh is really cute and that its friendly and fluffy appearance screams Judai, in a way. But he will never admit it because of what that might imply for him and the Ojamas.

Manjoume is fueled by caffeine and monster, he only really starts to recognise how nice it can be to have a meal because of how much Judai enjoys his food. He tries to sit at the table with him with dumb excuses.

Judai feels a bit guilty for how his actions impacted Manjoume's life, but Manjoume generally tells him that it's fine, it's better this way, that he's never this happy, that the only reason why Judai should maybe feel bad about it is because of his tendency to get overly invested in other people's problems and getting hurt in the process. Judai responds with bear hugs.

Manjoume brags about Judai a lot, actually. "Oh you think that's cool? One time Judai managed to do a backflip, you loser." "Slifer reds suck, but they do have redeeming qualities, by which I mean one of them is actually good."

Judai likes to indulge himself in the thought that he's Manjoume's most trusted, that he's the only one who could ever be allowed to have that many incriminating pictures of him. Because Judai just loves taking candid pictures of Manjoume. He thinks he looks and and cool in every situation, so yeah. A part of him does it because he has an inexplicable fear of forgetting people and the way they look, but he just can't say why that is.

They hang out in silence a lot, but once they start talking they just never stop. You'll find them on the beach at 3 am with a smiling Manjoume listening to Judai go on about how crazy it is that you can fry food in so many different ways and how he once caught a butterfly as a kid and named it Kujaku.

They share their music a lot, so Manjoume's tastes switch from just emo to fast paced rap and the weirdly happy sounding songs about very morbid things Judai listens to (plus emo). Judai starts to enjoy a bit of angry screaming into microphones thanks to Jun. Do they sing along like idiots as they share earphones? Yes. Is Manjoume mesmerised by Judai's singing voice? Also yes.

Judai loves hiking and sometimes invites Manjoume, but because he's a lot weaker and has less stamina, they take it slow. Manjoume keeps cursing himself for being slow and dead weight, but Judai is just happy to have a companion. Admittedly, going slower makes the walks better as he has the time to enjoy the scenery properly. He never teases Jun about his lack of physical training.

Now... I wanted to talk about my general view on the ship, plus headcanons I guess, but this is going to be EVEN LONGER (you are getting more than you asked for, your fault for enabling me, really). For the sake of the sanity of mobile users, I'm adding a cut so nobody has to unwillingly scroll through endless text.

On to the the juice, then. My thoughts on the ship. Manjoume and Judai are, of course, the rivals of the series and, if my thoughts on rivalry weren't clear enough, I am one of those people. It's just really romantic to me. What is very interesting about the two of them specifically is that they are polar opposites in the way the reason why they play, throughout the whole series. Hell, their views end up getting reversed completely: Manjoume goes from "if I don't win I'm gonna have a breakdown breakdown" to "losing is ok, as long as I enjoy the game and am true to myself", while Judai does the 180 from "I really just love playing cards with my friends, who cares about the outcome, it's fun" to "I have card game related trauma, nobody speak to me, games are only an excuse to assert a sort of power scale and honestly fuck that".

Manjoume is sort of the only person in the 'friend group' (he's never actually part of it, sadly, literally only Judai and Fubuki like him) to not idolise Judai, not explicitly. He clearly has an admiration for Judai from the beginning, but he is adamant on expressing it as hatred towards for being better than him. A part of me feels that a lot of his superior act is meant to try and fool himself and Jaden into thinking that he's a worthy rival, because I know for a fact that Manjoume doesn't believe that. He wants it to be true, yes.

What I am trying to get at is that Judai is probably a little confused by the fact that Manjoume doesn't drool all over him like the rest of the school does, but it soon becomes a crutch. Judai is under a lot of pressure because he is the hero who will save everyone and people like to remind him of how much they count on him. Manjoume is in it for Judai. He wants to be acknowledged by him, he wants his recognition and his attention, but he never asks for help or expects Judai to fix his problems for him. Judai is probably thankful for that.

Manjoume is also really scared of being left behind and cast aside as soon as he stops being useful and that's exactly what the writers do to him!!! hooray!, but Judai keeps insisting that he's not a bad guy, that he's fun to be around, that he's competent. Manjoume doesn't really believe all that that much, but Jaden keeps playing him despite his repeated losses and to Jun that's the equivalent of someone kissing his tears away. Manjoume only learns to accept his losses and shortcomings because Judai did it for him first.

So basically Manjoume is the only one who fully sees Judai as a person, while Judai is the only one who is really willing to look past his pretentious facade. I fully believe that Judai was relieved to learn that Manjoume was not just a perfect boy with perfect manners, by the way. They both just love to learn about every imperfection that the other has and silently thinking that they just add to the beauty of the other's character. Will they tease eachother about it? Fuck yes. Do they feel awful when the other tries to fix something about themselves because they pointed it out? Also fuck yes.

They are in a dumb competition against themselves to be better in order to earn the right to be friends with eachother, but because they are fucking dumb they never actually communicate (until they do), so for a long time it's endless pining that is definitely not gay because admittedly Judai just doesn't think that dating is a thing, while Manjoume is straight™, really straight. He has never liked a boy in his life, he's so very fucking straight, I swear.

So Manjoume is a bisexual disaster (and in my headcanon he prefers boys, actually, the Asuka incident is the biggest example of denial™ ever. He prefers Fubuki, fight me over this). The problem is that he never really considered he might be crushing on Judai, but at the same time admitting to maybe liking boys too means that there was more to wanting to stay at DA, to hanging out with Judai's crew despite their mutual dislike, to his continuous playful headlocks and ear pulling. To add onto that, there is probably a certain amount of guilt over having betrayed that bond with Judai by trying to throw away his cards and everything. Judai, on the other hand... is confused at how bothered he is by the public declarations of love, because Manjoume is his rival and rivals are supposed to focus on eachother, not on some girl, no matter how good said girl is at card games.

So maybe they are a bit gay for eachother. And maybe they just want excuses to be together as much as possible. And it's really just the vibe of highschool romance between two people who don't want to admit to caring for one another on a deeper level, but are also weirdly possessive of eachother for no apparent reason. And I think I'll stop here with my gay retelling, but really if you look at the two of them you do see that they do a lot for eachother's characters. It's kind of beautiful, really. They are the two socially inept characters who find comfort in someone being just like them and understanding them as they change and grow up.

I have a lot to say about how that changes once the transfer students come in, but I think I've bored everyone for long enough- as in nobody will read this lol. That's ok. I thank you again for the ask and for allowing me to gush about this ship that is so close to my heart. If anyone ever wants to talk about them, just. Do. Break into my house at night and I still won't mind, I just want to talk about them.

[sugar-petals]

Your First Date With Baekhyun

:: bbh x sm apprentice!reader

words. 10k

warnings ⚠️ idol au hc, pining, brief angst, eventual car sex 👀, tw light injuries bc baek is clumsy in love, oral fixation, finger sucking, rough sex, making out

↳ NOTE. here we go again with the slow burn ✊🔥

It all starts with a divine act of clumsiness. 

An accident, completely out of the blue.

Who is surprised, what else could it be.

Ever since Baekhyun violently bumped into you from behind in the SM cafeteria to avoid Mark spilling red hot Americano on him… life has never been the same. 

That you walked in on him walking around mighty topless, with you wanting to clear the dance practice room many hours after work three times already does not help.

It’s always the same chain of events. He practices for longer than the others and gets sweaty, pulls off his shirt, pauses the music for a five-minute break. That’s unintentionally making it seem like everyone is already gone and the room is empty — you are deceived by it every time, and he almost gets a heart attack himself. We know how easily embarrassed Baekhyun is with showing skin by accident, outside of any shower stalls that is, let alone being caught stripping by himself. 

The first time he screams and you scream, off you run after quickly shutting the door. He tries his best to cover himself up with his hands, but to no avail. Lucas, Kai, and Johnny are no longer the only Magic Mikes under this rowdy fucking roof anymore. Even if you turned around fast, you saw more than a whole lot. 

You know how scared Baekhyun is by surprises, he gets all fidgety. Even after four whole minutes, he still sits with the music off breathing harder than he did from powering through four jointbreaking ligament-snappers I mean EXO choreographies. 

Lot of thoughts on his mind, lot of blood pumping through him. Baekhyun can hear a pretty hefty heartbeat pound in his ears. Eventually, he shakes his head at himself and does switch the music back on. But even that doesn’t distract him, nor can he concentrate on the moves. He keeps on asking himself — what the hell is wrong, what is this, why does he act like that? 

So, he ends up sneaking out of the room to call it a day. You were waiting in the nearby corridor to do the cleaning after he left. But now, you hide behind a shelf with props and miscellanea to avoid him. 

Of course, Baekhyun comes to grab a water bottle from said cupboard. Well, oh shit. He has his shorts on, and his calves are literally 20 inches away from you. He doesn’t see you crouching down there, but your pulse is going through the roof now, too. 

In fact, not even the days when Taeyong is walking around the company in a sexy as hell crop top could cause you such a panic. And that is the highest possible bar already. The average apprentice almost faints.

There’s pungent sweat that can knock you out of your socks… and then there’s sexy sweat scent mixed with men’s deodorant. Baekhyun leaves the latter after rushing out of the corridor. It’s even more intense in the practice room, if not absolutely unbearable. Oh boy. Pheromones, please no.

It’s almost as if you’re taking a bath in cologne. You’re getting nauseous and tingly from how it gets to you. You can hardly focus on scrubbing the mirror. If only the guy knew what horniness he is causing just by infusing the air, what the fucking fuck.

The second time, he jerks up again, but tries to explain himself. But so do you, ending up with a mutual, stuttering word spill in sync. 

Neither of you understood what the other was saying because you were too busy with a knee-jerk dialogue. Anxious all over, you quickly leave and eventually end up hiding behind the cupboard again. The new comeback track blasts even louder in the practice room. 

The third occasion, you no longer flinch at each other and laugh a little, mighty embarrassed still, but apologize with knowing eyes. This time, you enter the room after a small „Can I?“ and at least manage to clear some noodle boxes and unused towels from the backup dancers away, and pin a new schedule to the door. 

Baekhyun quickly pulls over his plain white tee and keeps on mumbling sorry, sorry like he’s Super Junior, practically scraping the ground with his hair because he bows so deep. 

You’ve never seen him this awkward. Instead of his usual one-liners and most effortless conversation starters, he resorts to switching on the music again after frantically looking everywhere but in your direction. He sings his lines right along, getting back into the routine’s intricate steps. 

Strange. 

Very strange.

All day, he is impulsive with lightening up just about any situation. One sentence, hook line and sinker; the mood alleviates. Not this time. He’s ignoring you now that you’re in the room.

The truth is: Baekhyun can’t help but set his pupper eyes on you in all other occasions already, especially when you’re busy at a distance. And it’s making him crazy. Next day at the cafeteria, he deliberately arrives late so he can queue way, way behind you. 

For the first time in all glorious epochs K-Pop history, he would let Sehun enter the line before him so he would have a shield. „Maknaes first“ is his brief comment, and Sehun thinks that Baekhyun must squarely confuse today with his birthday.

And fate says… sike. Two minutes later, a teary Mark rushes toward you and loudly apologizes for the Americano disaster. „Baekhyun was not being impolite, it was me!“

As he says just that, he turns, points right at Baekhyun’s tomato red head peeking out from behind Sehun’s shoulders, and bows to him. 

The whole cafeteria is witness, including Lee Soo Man.

And SHINee, who will have gossip material for five weeks because of this. Key is already taking notes. 

And BoA — who’s giggling because she’s seen it all in the business and knows exactly what’s going on with Baekhyun and you. Oh. Lord.

Baekhyun wants to sink into the ground right then and there. He’s been found out again. Of course he has to step out from his lair now and bow back to Mark, take the blame and explain the whole incident all over, and comfort him with a string of appeasing words. Which he hates for four reasons at the same time. He embarrassed Mark, himself, disturbed you the way he bumped into your back, and now you saw him hiding from… precisely you. Little does he know you did, too. 

Baekhyun quickly retreats to sit next to Sehun once again after Mark has calmed down and he, being the senior as always, has performed another 180° bow to you in front of the entire staff and idol audience, causing his oversized shirt to slip downward, way to his armpits. 

Goodness gracious.

BoA is this close to shouting „get a room“ upon seeing Baekhyun stand in front of you with his stomach all bare until he has hastily tucked his shirt back into this place. Fast as it happens, you can’t hide your reaction face. 

Chanyeol, sitting at a nearby table, does a telling reaction noise himself, and you can tell he’s read the situation to a T. Even worse, he’s whistling. You can fool a lot of people, but not Park „Radar“ Chanyeol. He’s a himbo incarnate, but this guy’s emotional intelligence is too damn strong, and he knows Baekhyun inside out. Oh shit, man.

The next ten minutes are fraught with a weird, sonorous mumbling in the room. Lee Soo Man doesn’t really get it, thank God. But the meaning of Baekhyun silently cowering behind Sehun while eating his kimchi stew is more than obvious to half of the people around. Baekhyun never fucking acts like this, even when he’s sad.

It’s like something is pushing the two of you into humiliating situations like that ever since you started to work at SM since last May. Literally Baekhyun can’t stop apologizing to you all day because he’s suddenly clumsy or the strangest situations happen.

Nope, he doesn’t do it on purpose. But yes, he finds himself enjoying your attention. So what is he going to do? This keeps being stuck on his mind. Especially because half of EXO, NCT, and SuperM is asking him what the hell is going on in three raging group chats at once.

And you? I don’t have to tell you how it feels like when Baekhyun stumbles over to squarely plant his cutesy baby face into your back. Firmly wrapping his hands around your waist on top of that not to fall over entirely. That feeling is locked into your muscle memory. And now, seeing him stripped down for the fourth time already? Goodbye to your sleep.

Special thanks to a jittery Mark for making this first hug I mean collision out of nowhere happen. Just to be sure: Mark really didn’t spill his coffee on purpose, nor did Baekhyun want to bump into you this hard. And we know Mark’s reflexes are usually fast enough to save the day. But he was about to host his first variety show all by himself, so you can imagine how shaky and distracted he was. And nobody will resent him — this is only all about you and Baekhyun… being the most repressed motherfuckers.

Baekhyun constantly almost-crashing into you somewhere or basically crawling on the ground before you makes for a second very shaky guy. What the hell is pulling him towards you wherever he goes? It’s even worse than Minseok moving one inch and accidentally smacking Baekhyun in the face.

It just goes on and on.

Following the second cafeteria embarrassment, the next Friday after lunch, you run into each other at the ground floor elevator exit so you would drop your fries. Yeah, extra crispy ones, with the best mayonnaise. Baekyhun has been feeling so guilty about his curse at this point that he orders extra fries for you at the cafeteria two times a week with his card. Which makes Chanyeol know dear Eros struck particularly hard. Because if he didn’t care, Baekhyun would pay it five times a week like he does for NCT every now and then. But if he does it only two times, something is at stake. He doesn’t want it to be apparent.

Baekhyun can’t even look you in the eye when he puts them on your tray. Instead, he quickly bows three times in a row and then disappears. This guy is a small puddle of blush. 

Lee Soo Man cites him into his room to say what’s wrong soon, but all Baekhyun can blurt out is that he didn’t sleep well and the comeback song won’t get into his head. Which is not a direct lie, so.

Whatever you do, Baekhyun appears out of the blue and falls to your feet. Only two days later, he returns from shooting an MV and slips right in front of your office. Pretty much because his feet stumble over his own pants. You put the paperwork aside and check what the hell is going on outside. A dizzy Baekhyun straight-up hit his head at your door. He declines you helping him up because he knows that your touch is probably gonna make him fully insane. He walks around with a forehead patch during the comeback stage and people online think it’s the latest trend.

Somebody save this man.

The universe just keeps on arranging the silliest things to make shit happen, huh.

At this point, Baekhyun developing a full-blown apprentice crush is as obvious as Lucas being tall.

Now, the reality is. This man is Hitch, the Date Doctor. He notoriously handles crowds, can get along with anyone he’s put together with on camera, helps the other members to juggle their love life whenever they have a problem. Chen is probably a married man because of Baekhyun in one way or another. He isn’t really shy normally in his own words. But when it comes to his own crushes — classic case of everybody’s cupid who gives good advice they would need the most. 

That Baekhyun is helpless with anything that digs beneath the surface of his usual interactions will show to you very soon. There’s tough Baekhyun, there’s cute Baekhyun, and then there’s an utterly speechless little bean who has an internal meltdown when you do as much as take the stairs together. The difference is staggering. He’s fidgety, tense, makes himself even smaller and first and foremost: Is impressionable to an extreme.

In short: Baekhyun has fully converted into a fake maknae.

It’ll show in staff meeting conversations on trivial things about the schedule that he wing-mans everybody but himself when shit hits the fan. He stutters in your presence. Baek’s a mess. Chanyeol takes Baekhyun to the side and raises his brows at him at least five times a day, as in wanting to say: „Are you ever going to do something about it?“

Baekhyun dodges the answer each time and preoccupies himself with social media. Fans will later say that he hasn’t uploaded as many Twitter replies, Youtube videos, and Instagram snapshots in his whole career. And Baekhyun is already quite active online so you can tell how much he’s spamming.

Secretly… hoping you see his online activity. Which you do. 

You’ve memorized his five latest vlogs down to the cute little sound noises he’s making. Still, you hide behind the cupboard, and he is hiding behind an unsuspecting Johnny. Because Sehun is already grumbling about becoming a human shield, and Chanyeol would tease Baekhyun to the hell and back whenever you’re around.

Why does all of that happen? Why is he trying to escape? 

The answer is, Baekhyun feels an overpowering respect towards you. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, it’s something you exude. To the point where he isn’t able to clown you the way he does with others. It’s literally that bad.

On top of that, Baekhyun is frustrated that whatever extroversion he can switch on during broadcasts, fan meets, and with the other members is suddenly failing him. He tries hard to fall back to his usual humor, but you being around makes him act much more erratic. And, surprisingly reserved, believe it or not.

Eye contact will make him break whatever character he’s trying to tune into for the sake of keeping it together. The exact opposite will happen. All the blushing and boiling hot sweat gives him away. Your own heated af face he doesn’t even notice.

In his mind, he’s going through any possible way of mannerisms to get your attention all while not embarrassing himself. He gives confident SuperM leader Baekhyun a shot, comedian Baekhyun, too, and he will don a pokerfaced version of himself as a last option whenever you are close. 

All unsuccessfully. He can’t keep the façade for long; he knows he’s acting strange and inconsistent that way. Do you even realize what you merely sitting in the same practice room is doing to this guy?  

As you can tell…

It’s up to you to hit on him. Finding an unmistakable balance between being breathtakingly forward and overly subtle. The right way to ask him out is somewhere in between. The way you gauge it, Baekhyun is turned off by all kinds of brazen approaches, but doesn’t want to be nudged with satin gloves and feathers either.

However, you end up playing too lowkey at first try because you’re just as nervous. You think, maybe it’s good to find out how interested in me he will admit he is. Which, given how much he tries to conceal his feelings, turns out to be a difficult idea.

And — Isn’t is crystal clear he likes you a whole lot by the way he tries to retreat from everyone but you? Recently, fleeing to stand behind Lucas. Who has the most hiding surface and won’t question what Baekhyun is doing there all the time, unlike Johnny.

So, how do you learn that your plan is a bad idea? You try to involve yourself in NCT’s Friday night truth-or-dare where Baekhyun always joins to mess with everyone.

But that weekend, he interestingly excuses himself to „practice English, it’s urgent!“. Off he goes as soon as he sees that you are part of the lineup, looking like he’s seen a ghost. 

So, that mission failed. You get Taeyong, Haechan, and Yuta twerking against you at the same time while wearing sailor moon outfits as a dare instead. 

However: You still learned something from this. The way that even Haechan’s wild gyrating and arguably great ass did not have a single effect on you tells you that you really want someone else really damn bad. Hell, if Yuta Nakamoto winds against you and you feel nothing—

And, something else has become apparent to you.

Professional he is, Baekhyun establishes rapport even with people he dislikes or feels neutral about, but when his more vulnerable feelings are in the game, he runs from them. 

Beside Chanyeol and BoA, you’re smart enough to begin seeing what clockwork ticks inside of him. When Baekhyun doesn’t try to get close to someone that’s around him so frequently, something is mighty wrong and his opinion about that someone must be an intense one. And it’s not because he hates that person, the opposite is the case. 

He’s almost less afraid of you than his worries of ruining it. 

But through what, you’re wondering, seriously. 

On the other hand, you get why Baekhyun keeps a viable distance. He knows it’s difficult to be associated with him in the way he wishes you were. Since people were looking at him and you so strange in the cafeteria, he even stopped practicing in the after hours. 

Two weeks later, he even quits buying you fries for lunch and eats in the recording studio instead. Chanyeol remains correct: Much is at stake.

After the truth-or-dare fail, you sit down in sobriety and go through your options. You get all sorts of grand ideas to reveal your feelings, but dismiss the majority of it. You have to start small, really small. This needs the utmost care. Especially because you don’t want to compromise him by accident any further, nor are you anywhere near as ballsy as you believe someone hitting on Byun Baekhyun needs to be. 

Truth be told: BoA would kick your ass for thinking that. And letting so many opportunities pass, as if you aren’t beating yourself up for it enough. Idol mode Baekhyun, well, he would be hard to approach indeed. But what is currently going on… he’s literally showing you his underbelly. He’s begging you to do something.

That he avoids even the lightest touch: More than telling to BoA’s knowing eye. He would be so easy to sway with just one sentence. She knows that at this point, Baekhyun is desperate. His yes would come so fast. You’re far from having faith in this. But you still try. You want this man.

Eventually, you rack your brain for anything understated you could do. 

Then, you get the idea. 

After a schedule briefing, Baekhyun recently said he dearly wishes he could eat fried noodles in the early evening because he’s craving something savory, meanwhile flashing a split-second glance at you. Maybe… You can discreetly bridge the gap by getting him food.

You’re part responsible for doing things like that in the company already so nobody will question you driving around with your little motorbike. 

If you think about it: That’s a good excuse to approach him frequently and visit his apartment. The move is calculated, but it’s what the situation requires. You can’t tell how Baekhyun will react, but if he looked at you this way, it’s worth a shot.

And so, you dare the impossible. You show up with a deliberately small portion of noodles after the last comeback stage, knock twice. He does open. You’re frozen up.

Uttering a hopefully neutral „You said you wanted this. I’ll also bring it tomorrow if you want,“ and then drive off again without even waiting for a reply from a very surprised-looking Baekhyun in PJs. 

Sweating like crazy, thank God your helmet and the upcoming dark of the night was hiding your red cheeks. Shit man, that was robotic as fuck! is what you’re thinking for the entire ride home. Another fail, you sure won’t return tomorrow. Now you can’t look him in the eye, either.

Meanwhile: 

The meal not only saves the day of Baekhyun’s usually very lackluster diet mood that comes out when he is by himself. It also makes him flustered and grateful, curling up on his couch. He couldn’t even remotely try to say no out of politeness or concerns for his food plan. Baekhyun breaks the chopsticks right away after closing the door. Today, his dog’s with him. Mongryong excitedly jumps up and down next to Baekhyun. Your visit was short and sweet, but it made two beans very happy.

In fact, he rips open the box and shoves a quarter of the content into his mouth in the blink of an eye. It’s not just how hungry he is. He’s also overwhelmed that you came to his house. He feels like it’d be the highest level of disrespect to throw it away to begin with, no matter how spartan his eating habits are supposed to be. 

He almost views this little take-out box as a part of you. He imagines how you listened to him talk, decided to drop by, bought it with your own money, and carried it all the way to him. All that extra effort and attention he spins back and forth in his head for the whole next week.

And, on the spot, Baekhyun is so taken aback that he starts deep cleaning his apartment at midnight as soon as he finishes his noodles. 

To your own initial shock, he also drops an envelope with money under your office door the next day. And you thought someone was sending threats.

You get the underlying message, though. This is something just between the two of you, and the envelope is a yes. For another meal. Actually, more than that. There are 30 sorted bills in it, each to buy one box since he knows where you get the food from and what the standard price is. 

Payment for one month in advance. Meetings for one month in advance. This fucker. 

And you thought your sweaty scene at his apartment left him confused or weirded out. Nope, he decided he wants this times thirty. Something you have to let sink in.

The next day you drive along at the same time, there’s nobody there. 

Because Baekhyun has left the door open. Now you can’t just speed away again. Nor do you really want to, for God’s sake. 

After putting your helmet down in the small entrance room, you find an anxiously waiting Baekhyun on the extremely cleaned up living room couch, sitting there with fidgeting feet like it’s a porn casting. 

The tension could kill. You put the box on the table before him like it’s England’s Crown Jewels. You want to calm him down so desperately, but don’t know how.

Given his sparkly eyes set on the food, that he wants to devour what you brought him right away is not hard to overlook. But he still seems hesitant. Insecure. Baekhyun doesn’t manage to say a full word which is the most surreal thing. You work up your voice and pass him the chopsticks in their paper packaging. „Pig out. You didn’t eat since 7AM.“

Again, he breaks the chopsticks. Trying hard not to do it too fast.

You sit opposite to him and revert back to professional mode. Talking about statistics from the comeback that Baekhyun hummingly acknowledges the way he does when you talk to EXO in meetings. 

He stuffs himself like his life depends on it. No stable eye contact from him. 

Both of you know that it’s not what you want to say. But even ten minutes in: Nothing about the cafeteria, the fries, the envelope, the topless incident, the forehead patch, nothing. Just you going on about details from work and him listening, nodding, chewing, making brief little remarks and using all his standard corporate phrases. „Ah, yes, EXO surely benefits from that.“ But it’s a start. You begin small. 

So far, so good. With every evening, the conversation becomes more and more two-sided and the meals bigger. A second envelope soon enters your office, covering the extra costs for the XXL boxes, your fuel, and another month worth of meals. Note: Only one and a half weeks in. 

Fuck, you got yourself into something big. Is it because his dog likes you?

You are starting to like babying him like that, even if you both keep it serious. Unusually so, but at least you don’t get into any more accidents with that suspense off your either shoulders. 

It’s not like that cute little face would leave you any chance in the first place. Baekhyun smiles shyly around you. His big laugh is sweeping, but the small things… lethal. Absolutely lethal.

His manager doesn’t like it, but his genius idol’s mochi factor is increasing since you bring him spicy, richer foods. Baekhyun declines most snacks he’s offered at work, hardly eats up at the cafeteria and gives it to Foodcas Xuxi instead, and even the stylists wished he would gain more weight without any results in their convincing acts. But when you bring him a large portion of extra al dente spaghetti or — as of recently — self-made black bean noodles, Baekhyun would consider it rude not to follow the call of the carbs. 

Interesting.

He eats even more aggressively when he knows you made the food yourself. 

Quickly enough, he pays either for take-out or ingredients meant for not one, but two people. You usually eat a little earlier than he does, but you would not trade the best luxury meal in the world eaten by yourself with being together in Baekhyun’s flat. To the average Joe, this would be the biggest hassle, but to you… there’s no way you can get enough of being around him so privately. You enjoy taking the time to buy food for him. Taking the time in general.

You’re not the only one.

I don’t have to tell you how Baekhyun has to fight getting a vicious hard-on with sitting opposite to you with your motorcycling jacket peeled down to the hip, right inside a staring-not staring-staring-not staring match while you both slurp on your noodle soup pretending to be apprentice and idol.

It’s… bizarre. And hot. And bizarre. And frustrating.

You both don’t know where to take all of this. You end up making it a rock-solid daily routine, but not going any further than that because you are afraid. The excuse: Never change a running system.

In the meantime, Baekhyun works out even more. Not to compensate for the calories or to get rid of the increasingly chubby cheeks. Nope, it’s to impress you and show his fitness, plain and simple. At times, the music once again blasts in the practice room after everyone left. You come in to clear the room with Baekhyun in one of his very tight tank tops. 

You greet each other softly smiling. The familiarity really does begin to show. While you sort and organize, he writes you a little note on what to get for food tonight. He scribbles a little „:3“ emoji underneath. 

You think about that for at least two hours before you drive to his apartment.

So, yeah. Something is going on with him regardless of both of you trying to keep your routine stable and CIA-level secret. 

He finds himself cringeworthy when he carries seven stacked up chairs to a group meeting at once just because you’re attending. But something in him can’t help it, for the love of God. At least in this regard, he thinks, something is running on autopilot in terms of flirting methods. Meaning, he really does hide less and less. 

Meanwhile, Lucas’ eyes are falling out because Baekhyun is mustering new levels of strength nobody suspected he had. In the most random situations, even. Baekhyun’s fitness trainer is also living one hell of a life because his protégée is so eager these days. Mastering everything from weights to pilates. Hormones are one hell of a drug.

Kai frequently remarks that Baekhyun is different. „He’s nagging much less, what’s going on, why, why!“ he says to Taemin on the regular, and they invent all kinds of theories.

Since Baekhyun doesn’t want to miss out on your daily evening visit nor spend 8 hours in the gym, that means: He increases the intensity of the work-outs. For two and a half weeks, he is completely knocked out afterwards.

And so… it happens.

Baekhyun falls asleep before your visit. The door he has opened beforehand as always, but you enter a dim room with dozing Baekhyun splayed on the bed in his red carpet outfit from earlier that day. He worked out in the morning, did some hosting, talked his soul out in an interview, attended an award show, drove home, and eventually collapsed in the sheets. Lights out.

You put the rice box and cake slice you brought along on his desk. He looks so cute when he dozes, but you also hate disturbing his sleepy angel hours. Especially because you know how worn-out his schedule has left him and you feel sorry for it. 

You feel weird for standing there with your take-out and want to hurry outside as fast as possible, but leave a note. 

For the first time in weeks, you eat dinner in your own flat.

After forcefully waking up at 3AM due to his usual sleep cycle being off balance, Baekhyun falls into a spiral of regrets. Once it dawns on him what time it is and he must have missed your visit, he buries his face in his palms sitting at the edge of the bed. 

He resents himself for neither cleaning up his bedroom properly nor staying awake even more so, no matter how eventful his day was. He imagines how you must have seen him sleep, probably in the most humiliating, unflattering position and with terrible hair, judging him for being rude, forgetful, unattractive, messy, and probably a thousand other things.

Until… he finds the note. That one gives him a second almost-heart attack, but an adrenaline-fueled one this time. He stumbles back onto his bed and reads it twenty times over.

„Rest well and dig in. Don’t worry. Text if you’re okay. 03304 68010113.“

After three typos in your number, almost choking on cold rice because he eats so passionately, and several minutes of going back and forth on sending something, he kicks his own ass and writes a little „I’m ok, I’m very very sorry! I’m an idiot 😭“. After you reply that he has no reason to apologize, he rambles on about how he wishes that he’s not being an inconvenience to you with a whole row of sad and dejected emojis. 

You hate that Baekhyun feels put on the spot and obliged because of you this way and try to think hard about how to solve the dilemma. You won’t try to stop the rain of his apologies by telling him to calm down because you know it’ll make it worse, and instead decide it’s time to get going.

The opportunity is now, and there’s only one.

‚So, I have an idea—“

Going to the groovy little underground pizza restaurant downtown is something that Baekhyun immediately accepts as a suggestion. He wants to compensate for his dozing, but he also knows that this is a whopping chance more than anything.

And… a covert first date. 

He knows that’s what it is. It’s about leveling up now.

Before you can write that you’ll treat him and he can relax, he gets firm with insisting that you will pay not a single dime. You know that it’s not just his overworking conscience speaking. It’s also the only way Baekhyun gets an occasion to express that he takes this very seriously via text. 

That he wants to repay you and aims to get the most out of meeting up is something you realize when he steps out of the wardrobe room the next evening after everyone in the company has gone home. 

The stylists he has told that he needs to try this particular outfit on for some time to get used to it. „I need to dance in this, so.“

Actually, it is meant for EXO performing at the Oscars next week, but he got away with the excuse and a promise to take care. 

And… he really did the rest of the styling all by himself. He’s turned into a glamorous neat freak. Every shiny hair glued into its desired place, freshly dyed honey blonde with soft brunette roots. 

In fact, who walks at you is a wholly different Baekhyun in a dark, reddish-violet satin suit, pointy black shoes, matte black tie, mature sultry eye shadow, black square sunglasses pushed up into his hair, his signature lipstick, with a distinct statement tote bag, and black lace socks. I repeat: Lace. This is the fanciest anybody has ever headed to eat $6.50 pizza at a tube station. I mean wow, just wow. The tailored shoulders and how tight the tux cinches in at the waist is on par with Kai’s Obsession crop top. 

Even the much more expensive award show outfit from last week looks like a potato sack compared to how much he dolled himself up and reinvented literally every inch about himself. Like you have to prevent yourself from drooling.

Yep. He. Means. Business.

Funnily enough, Baekhyun realizes his zeal and just how much he is trying to impress you at all costs when you turn up with your standard khaki trench coat, bunny print umbrella, and casual white sneakers that have seen World War 1 and 2. You know, just the way you always come to his apartment and the way it’s inconspicuous. 

Going by his face… he starts to overthink his esteem. You can see how his expression becomes mortified. You promptly decide to put an end to his self-conscious back and forth through taking him by the hand. 

„You’re the best-looking man in the world and I’m asking you for a date. Are you comin’ or are you not?“

You then make it particularly clear to him that if anything, this right in front of you is very much authentic Baekhyun and not someone else you’re in for after all. And, that you’re both in your genuine form tonight the way it’s gotta be, the way you know each other and the reason why you decided to do this. Boom.

Four-step Greek style sermon for tonight: Delivered.

Now he’s gaping at you too much to beat himself up. That mission is very much accomplished. Modern problems apparently require ancient rhetoric. You’re in a kick-ass mood tonight. I dunno, anybody would be, Baekhyun’s accentuated sense of style has the historic potential to make girls reckless.

Baekhyun’s hand is heated like an Icelandic geyser and his heartbeat rate would make the average rabbit look like an amateur. Believe it or not — it’s the first time you’re deliberately touching. It’s ridiculous.

You head to the company garage, he churns out five jokes in a row on how he must look like a Korean Elton John on the way to his best-of concert, you laugh… Baekhyun feels better. Three times as nervous compared to when you usually come to his flat, but better nevertheless. And he drives, so. 

He feels like he’s catching up and giving something back, no matter that you feel he doesn’t have to, but to him, it’s important. 

You joke back to him how it’s a little bit funny — Elton John pun intended — that you saw every inch of Baekhyun’s apartment at this point already but this is the first date. The world is upside down, but it’s SM Entertainment, so. Things get started in different ways, but they do.

That realization is getting to him, too. Baekhyun’s peacock alter ego emerges to bolt over the motorway like a lovedrunk Lewis Hamilton with a foot glued to the gas pedal, but also checks fifty times for how you feel in the passenger seat. Asking about how you like it, if the A/C is set to how you want it, whether your seat is tilted the way you enjoy it. Damn, he really is on edge. 

On top of that, said alter ego maneuvers him right into a 3-kilometer outer ring traffic jam before his innocent self even realizes it. More time to chat… more time to sit so close… more time you get to savor the comfort of his luxurious car. So that was a Freudian slip with a steering wheel right there.

You already know that Baekhyun has never tried as hard to make somebody like him. You compliment his taste in cars vice versa to take that pressure off before he turns into a nervous wreck entirely. And then, also adding that you could get used to this which makes Baekhyun feel like a billion Won. His eyes are downcast, his cheeks are beaming. Figures, light superpowers and such, we know the deal.

Meanwhile, that you really like him already and for a long time is something you challenge yourself to make more than apparent to him. If he’s still this desperate about pleasing you and unsure about how he comes across, there’s some work to do. This guy needs a sign. A football field-sized one. If Baekhyun’s demon is his self-worth tonight, yours is being a lot more demonstrative. You’ve been far too indirect with him all day every day.

That you’re outside of both your professional spheres actually helps: Big fucking time.

Easing him into a conversation happens surprisingly smooth when you recount visiting his apartment and seeing him sleep so beautifully. Which you say was the most gratifying thing which is the truth. It’s been on his mind, hearing about your relief makes a lot of things plague him less. 

You also add how you enjoy bringing him food just because. That he’s nice and good company, even when he sleeps. That assures Baekhyun and makes him laugh.

And yes. He ends up serenading you throughout the entire traffic jam. And yes. When Baekhyun is in love, his singing is particularly on point. You can hear the cherry on top in his registers. No need for the stereo, you can ask him to sing any song you like. 

The traffic jam disperses after 20 minutes, Baekhyun has interpreted your entire favorite playlist at this point. Arriving feels like way too soon. 

You put your trench coat over Baekhyun while he exits the car. There’s hardly anyone around in this part of the town but who knows, making sure not to mess up his hair in the process. Both of you hurry to the stairs leading underground. Meanwhile, the car is parked quite stealthily behind a closed-down fish restaurant with dusty windows.

It feels good to walk around with Baekhyun right by your side. 

The surroundings are cluttered with trash and only few people wait at the tube station that opens up before you with every step downwards. It’s actually perfect as a getaway. There are mostly older businessmen on shift at first glance. 

It’s colder out in the open and surrounded by surfaces of concrete, the car was like a spa by comparison. Baekhyun takes the initiative to put the trench coat back onto your shoulders. You feel flattered and you smile at each other, and walk on with synchronized steps. The pizza bar is almost within sight. In the meantime, the digital board announces the tube arriving in five minutes. He takes your hand.

And then… some real bullshit goes down.

A group of seven scraggly-looking teens lounge on a bench, roughly 200 meters before the pizza bistro. You have to pass the bench close-by given how narrow the walking space next to the train tracks is. 

One of them, the tallest of the bunch, coarsely shouts at you. „How much did that prostitute cost and where does he keep his money, huh?“ He sticks his wriggling tongue out right along. The others are ogling Baekhyun’s shoes and chest pockets, preying and laughing and sneering. It dawns on you that you should’ve asked for one more song in the car.

The mood tips. One of the boys sitting on the left side of the bench starts fiddling with a 3-inch switchblade. And then, something flicks the switch inside you, too. Your Kyoong-protect-o-meter goes through the roof faster than Baekhyun can get his car to the speed limit. 

Cue She-Hulk transformation. In an onslaught of your inner wrestling diva claiming her rights, you take matters into your own hands by hurling Baekhyun’s glitzy designer bag at the guy’s surprised face. Sorry Versace, it had to be done. The whole group gasps out loud. While they’re still caught off guard, you go on to lunge forward and furiously whack greasy knife guy and two other approaching attackers with your Roger fucking Rabbit umbrella using a windmill-motion martial arts technique you came up with from scratch. Baekhyun doesn’t even have to duck… being smol has its advantages. 

The switchblade is sent flying into a bin. Point landing. You proceed to rip into the group to helicopter your improvised weapon in circles until it threatens to plow down the better of them and they back away squealing and pleading. Britney would be so damn proud of you, I’m telling ya.

Needless to say, the mortally terrified group runs and disperses into the arriving tube, probably booking their therapist appointments for Monday morning already. You pick up the bag for Baekhyun a little breathless, dust it off, and say a prayer. Holy shit. 

What the hell just happened. Literally, what the fucking fuck.

An entirely wide-eyed Baekhyun still can’t believe that a whole group of sleazy guys twice as tall as him took an unhinged windmill beating by you to prevent a robbery, and meanwhile he is the martial arts champion. Like, hello? He’s been a Hapkido instructor with several gold medals. How many black belts does the guy have again? He could mow down fifty of that kind and pulverize anyone of them with a mere NCT-style kick. This is ridiculous. He’s mighty impressed.

A few businessmen at the station are looking at you from afar with open mouths. You wave and give a thumbs up signalling all is okay. The security personnel reviewing the CCTV the next day is down for a ride. You hope that there are no headlines with pictures of this. Tube brats get their ass busted by cartoon bunny at 2:15 AM. K-Pop star Baekhyun defended by mysterious umbrella wielder gone wild.

You take a deep breath, brush off your coat. „Um. Moving on I guess.“ Then, interlink arms with Baekhyun, strolling on toward the restaurant. Looking around everywhere, still a little shocked. Walking off your relief helps, as is looking forward to eating. Damn, you do outrageous things when you’re hungry.

The restaurant is the size of the practice room at best, lit with white neon and decorated with Italian flags in every corner. The empty seats are designed like in an American diner from the 80s.

The lanky six-foot-something waiter, Luigi Roberto Maranello Salvatore (his nameplate is really in-depth about this), hurries to the door when he sees how Baekhyun is dressed and probably thinks the King of Korea just arrived. Which he, in fact, did, but that’s beside the point. 

You sit at the very back and get comfortable after breaking your last sweat. An enthusiastic Luigi presents to you the latest ‚delicious couple menu options’ and promises to use the best toppings he can offer. You instantly trust him, Luigi has the most accurate mustache you’ve ever seen.

Baekhyun and you share a huge plate of the curiously named ‚Pizza Puppy Love‘  that might be better described as a circle-shaped late night gala buffet. You dig in because damn, fighting thugs makes hungry, and Baekhyun stuffs himself given how it’s his favorite meal. Luigi sees that you are avid eaters and way too busy looking at each other, so he disappears in the kitchen, proud of setting the mood just perfectly.

In the meantime, Baekhyun says that he thinks of hiring you as a sasaeng protection machine. You muse how the umbrella is sturdier than you thought and you wouldn’t hesitate to use it again now that you think about it. Being Baekhyun’s Jarvis is not a bad thought, actually. Beating up rascals for him is your newly discovered love language.

In fact: Whatever took over inside of you and made you lose your chill, Baekhyun is mighty curious about. He thinks that was very sexy. You get the feeling that this guy could like dangerous women. He might have picked that up from Taemin, credits to him.

After Baekhyun has dramatically recounted the umbrella incident at least five times, the conversation goes on about your embarrassing hiding stories, how hilariously over- and underdressed you are as a unit, and you teasing him about „speeding on the highway, are we“. Baekhyun teases you back about how you acted like his manager with your trench coat over his head. He kind of has a point and you call it a tie.

Seeing Baekhyun all full with his beloved pizza and acting so carefree in his Oscar suit is a cute sight. You take the liberty to cut a particularly large slice out of the puppy pizza UFO and feed him. 

If it’s a couple menu, you gotta act like it.

Baekhyun is making some mighty heart eyes at you, and so — you decide to take it a little further. This whole fight thing made you forget you’re on a goddamn date after… a whole year of eyefucking and that it’s about time to close the gap.

Luigi is wholly busy making order in the kitchen and Baekhyun has some tomato sauce stuck at the side of his mouth. Convenient. You take the chance to wipe it off with the tip of your right digit. 

He realizes what you’re doing and promptly grabs your hand to keep it right where it is. Uh-oh. His tongue darts out, he licks right across your finger. To top it off, he starts to suck it, too. With a typical nonchalance. Seeing how you almost combust, he takes another finger into his hot mouth. And sucks a little more. His lipstick smudges onto your hand. His eyes are like hot coals and the pupils are all blown. Oh my, my, my. 

If you’re just playing, don’t you ever give Baekhyun anything to escalate on like that, ever. The way you were ready to knock down the seven guys, he is ready to get physical once the first step is done. Though, the thing is. You’re not playing. It’s exactly the type of fodder that you’ve been craving to give him. Baekhyun’s oral fixation is something else.

The rest of the pizza is gone in five minutes…

…and Luigi gets the tip of his life.

You walk to the car in much faster steps than before. Even if it’s later than late, nobody is around anymore except a sleeping beggar on the other side of the station. No danger in sight whatsoever. There’s a different reason to get going like that this time and there’s no way you can mentally prepare yourself for what’s coming.

Back to the fish restaurant, back to the car spa. Nobody on the streets, anywhere. This night, Baekhyun does not feel even remotely tired, though.

After you put your umbrella in the trunk — you will honor it much more from now on — the driver’s and passenger’s seat stay empty for half an hour and a little more. Now, the actual stereo is on. There’s a lot to catch up with on the backseat.

Baekhyun puts Delight on repeat, and queues City Lights just because. Guy knows what good music and singing sounds like. You interlock hands and call him pretty. Baekhyun is flustered, but all the more eager. 

It takes barely a minute until you get serious with making out on top of him and grind on his lap like the world ends. The satiny fabric is too tempting not to gyrate all over it in your jeans. Lord knows his legs are great. You know what you signed up for. Those thighs are so delicious to straddle, you can’t even imagine. 

Baekhyun gazes at you so intently and ready, whispering his little you-can-do-anythings and tell-me-all-you-wants, it’s like magic.

To top it off, kissing his little pouty lips has got to be the best thing, running your hands through his sexy hair — even more so. Your mouth and fingers have been begging you to do this. Begging. 

From there, your hands go places. His neatly razored nape of the neck, his waist, the chest. His suit, all that expensive fabric, his gentle skin, it’s so nice to the touch. He smells so hot. Bergamot, cinnamon, and sweet, deep, rich and soothing sandalwood. „Girl, I’m your Candy“ gets a whole new meaning. Practice room memories. As if you aren’t wet enough already. 

By the last minute of the second track, Baekhyun is already hooked kissing your neck and does some very daring acrobatics with his tongue. And you thought the pizza would satiate him. Nope, he eats you up like a whole salad bowl of black bean noodles with three pounds kimchi and ten fried eggs stacked on top. In his own words I mean lyrics: Game over.

The desperation and nervosity adds even more sloppiness and hunger. These have got to be the lewdest slurping and sucking noises you’ve ever heard. You can’t help but curse the ugliest things. Something’s pretty damn hard through the front of his tux already. 

Baekhyun feels that you feel it and the kissing becomes even more frantic. His whole body says: Grind more. Please. Please.

By the time the fourth track starts, Baekhyun’s entirely wet mouth wanders upward. Here goes the French kissing madness. You glide your hips back and forth on his bulge, and his tongue is already winding inside of you like it’s advanced singing lessons. It’s so unreal that you have to grab hold of his upper arms to stay in place. Shit, this guy. 

You can tell that this… is his absolute forte. Nobody can fuck with Baekhyun when it comes to outrageous mouth and throat technique. Your tongue gets a sense of how confident he is in his lip service and works his way into it. Now you know how it feels when Byun Baekhyun pays back your attention. Holy Luigi’s Cannoli, he has so much fun. Way, way too much fun. Like Sir, this is a Wendy’s.

And that’s the last damn straw. Really, the last one. You can’t do this shit anymore. You ask for condoms. 

After freezing up for at least ten seconds, he nods his little head about ten times in a row. It’s as if he can’t actually believe it and didn’t just kiss the shit out of you with the hardest dick in history.

„Okay, I’ll—“

Baekhyun keeps them in a yellow puppy-shaped bag under the driver’s seat and takes three torturous minutes to get them from there since it’s underneath and behind other random things. Which means you get to look at his ass for said time because he is bent forward between the two front seats. It’s not like you’ve never seen Baekhyun from behind, but never this close nor in a suit as tight since he usually wears baggy things. So. He’s not just big in the front, then. For his build? That is Korea’s ass.

And the condoms? You expected they were in his tote or his suit within one reach and rip. Nope, Baekhyun did not leave the company building with intentions. He’s been managing this raging boner for a whole year and did not make any moves on you in his apartment where he could have had you on any available surface in two minutes. Baekhyun wasn’t close to even remotely ask for literally anything. He just sat there on the couch with restless legs, ruffled hair, and an open mouth while hearing you talk. You don’t want to imagine how intensely he must have gotten off. Which he, in fact, did. 

He didn’t deliberately plan sex in a specific place for the first date either. Instead, he was prepared for— what exactly? A slight eventuality? Now that you think about it: Going by how he dressed himself, what Baekhyun probably thought he could get out of this was: A compliment. Even if all of your evening visits were nothing but hardcore sexual tension and this was the chance to bring that to an end. Let that sink in.

This guy’s self-control is not only astronomical, but also completely astounding given his usual character. In fact, you thought he would be entirely sovereign with this. How could he not? He’s Baekhyun!

Going by all that… You conclude that Baekhyun must really feel like he does not deserve you. His shame and self-denial must go through the roof. Given how his deeper insecurities have been in plain sight, it actually makes sense. Looks like you’re the one bringing them out, whatever it is that you do. It’s pretty tough knowing that you rouse something as vulnerable in him but it’s as good as it is bad. You find him very brave and incredible for letting it show. Honestly? It’s better than pushing through all of this pretending.

Plus — You really must have given him the impression that he can look but not ever touch. While that’s the entire opposite of what you want. 

To be fair: Having Baekhyun openly touch you in the company would have been a dangerous act. Even more so than say, you touching him, (which would have been somewhat possible, look at stylists and managers casually or work-relatedly doing skinship). Because that means that the availability his profession suggests to the world is no longer a thing and his mind is set on one person. Which, in his field, is social death. 

That’s why Baekhyun could only ever touch you by virtue of circumstances and whatever higher forces arranging accidents where he bumped into you. Talk about indirect ways. The universe gave you what you wanted, but in a way where there was always the excuse of bad luck and no possibility of other people finding out about your feelings. Risky love breeds risky circumstances.

The same with showing his body or knocking at your door to get your attention. He knows he can’t do that, can’t ask for it. So what happens? You accidentally walk in on him, or he crashes against your office entrance after slipping.

The same with treating you, spending time together, getting taken care of by you. Baekhyun found himself wishing for it. So it happened that you spilled your fries and he bought them for you all over, and he was begging for fried noodles so the opportunity to meet surprisingly came about. The accidents themselves both of you didn’t want nor deliberately stage, but you very much wanted the results of them. Directly you could not express your feelings, not even Baekhyun. That’s how it all came to be and now you see just how much he wants to be close to you in so many ways.

That he feels ashamed and undeserving — that shocks the living hell out of you. 

So, all right then, keeper. Time to show you otherwise. 

It’s crazy how he thinks you’re the one off limits and not him. Then again, he’s not the guy with the savage umbrella technique.

Since his hand is too shaky, you slip one on him and start to ride him without any further ado. You’re already leaking so what’s left to fiddle around about. No wasting any time here. 

The deal is as good as sealed. He feels fucking great inside of you and his wide eyes are the most rewarding thing. Whatever dimension Baekhyun just broke through, the level of whipped is not possible to be described with any human words. His hands are roaming over you pretty much without aim, you can tell your body is too much for him.

After he’s begging you to do it roughly, you grab him by the collar and fuck his soul out until he’s all gasping because his dick hurts. The song’s called Are You Ridin’ with good reason.

Baekhyun’s brains are long screwed out at this point, if not reduced to absolute green and purple jello. Is there actually any mind to lose at this point after you had your fingers in his mouth? Like literally, his favorite thing? Probably not. 

He bites down into his sleeve. Baekhyun is all knocked out by you by the time you get to your second orgasm, and reclines on the backseat bench to starfish the rest of the thing with his mouth hanging open at you. Hormone overload. His entire body shut down except the will to keep it up and not come. Yum, he is fit. Where he takes that godly strength from, only higher powers can tell. The Tree of Life, Zeus, Ten Chittaphon, I don’t know. 

He just has the kind of dick you can really bounce on. Really. Fucking. Hard. You are one spark of insanity close to run on autopilot. I don’t think anybody’s growled like this on him before. Nor was Baekhyun’s cock this close to falling right off, ever. 

This is not sex, it’s a crazy as fuck pounding, with Baekhyun on the verge of being blacked out with drool on his chin and his eyes rolling back. His fingers are absentmindedly trailing down your upper back and all he can utter is a small, yearning „please, please“ and gritting „don’t stop, please don’t stop…“ between his teeth. And hell, you have not a single reason to. Cue Captain America, I can do this all day.

When other people say smashing, whatever they’re referring to is not as smash as this. This must be the dirtiest, wettest slapping noise you’ve ever heard, and Baekhyun’s entirely uncontrolled moans will be forever etched into your memory. So melodic, so goddamn excited and desperate and all fucked out. He’s groaning so well, it’s like it’s meant for you.

By the third time you come, he’s crying and whining and has to cover his mouth not to scream out loud. You have no idea what your body is doing, but whatever it is, it’s taking Baekhyun out. Even you tire after some time, but you keep going. You imagine that every thrust is the meal and attention you wanna give to him.

That’s a lot of fucking and edging you get done in half an hour. Baekhyun’s tongue is hanging out afterwards and you went through a whopping three condoms. So much frustration finally released. Baekhyun’s gonna be emptier than Suho’s wallet after Sehun ordered a lifetime supply of bubble tea. 

You squarely avoid oozing your own cum onto his backseat with one hand. Good lord that creampie would ruin everything if he didn’t wear a condom. You’ve come a long way since colliding in the cafeteria, not gonna lie.

And thank God you’re not fucking somewhere in the company and the Audi is close to soundproof because this guy is LOUD. You need some good eardrums to handle these moans. Unhinged is an understatement. If this becomes a contest outwhoring each other, he’d win by a landslide. 

By the time you slip off, Baekhyun is on the verge to the dreamland, you milked every last drop out of him. Which means… 

…you get to drive an expensive as fuck Audi through Seoul. Your beatdown with the tube thugs you try to refrain from boasting about, but this one you are tempted to brag about to yourself for the next week. Well, in your mind. Just a little bit. It’s a great car. And you feel giddy in your body all over. That’s what sex with Baekhyun does to you. 

Seoul traffic is tame around this time. Half in his sleep, Baekhyun hums and sings on the driver’s seat. He’s all sober, but you made the guy act a lil’ drunk, huh. In his element, he talks and talks and talks and talks a little more. Then, does his tiny 'ㅅ' pup face and dozes for half the ride. Sleeping angel hours.

You can’t really scold him for passing out so fast in the slightest. As always, he went who knows how many extra miles just for you. That includes vowing to hand-wash his Oscars suit because it’s fucking ruined. Since the stylists are guaranteed to flame him, you send the fashion department a message how Baekhyun has to wear a different suit because he’s simply too dummy thick for this one, especially as far as the pants are concerned. Which is almost no lie and they will believe you. 

Much like his name suggests, Baekhyun does go hundred. At his apartment, you basically have to carry him into the bedroom. He says he doesn’t want to sleep. But you won’t kiss him goodnight after you pull off your jacket without a strong word on how his health has to be priority. He gets the point when you say you wouldn’t have had a first date without Baekhyun dozing off before your evening visit.

Sweet baby Jesus, you’d still be awkwardly slurping noodles without Baekhyun’s faux pas. If you look back at it: It’s all a story of accidents that turn out beautiful.

Sleep being Baekhyun’s reset button, that’s the best thing to do in order to give the night a good conclusion. Being alone in his apartment together, you don’t have to discreet about sleeping next to him after setting the alarm clock.

Mark Lee’s piping hot Americano is the culprit for all of this, but you thank him.

----

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[mickey-millagher]

At long last she’d found aunt Ginger’s body, just the latest of Frank’s many mistakes that she’d had to take care of over the years. Least with the body located she could finally have a moment of peace before the next disaster hit, Fiona thought as she made her way up to steps to the kitchen.

She opened the door.

Mickey Milkovich was bleeding out of his ass onto her countertop.

So much for a moment of peace.

“Ian what the fuck?” She yelled over the yelps coming from the teenage thug being operated on by... Jimmy’s dad.

“I can explain this.” Came Ian’s earnest reply.

Yeah he better have a fucking good explanation to boot, Fiona thought before noticing the woman standing in her living room.

After that in the chaos of having the kids yet again taken away from her, their home and each other. Finding out why Mickey Milkovich was bleeding out in her kitchen didn’t seem very important.

The house was quiet at last, Debbie, Carl and Liam finally being convinced to get some sleep after hours of celebrating their win at count. Jimmy had turned in hours before hand but Fiona couldn’t make herself stick to the kids bedtimes tonight. She knew it probably wasn’t the best start to her guardianship but she’d missed her kids so much and it wasn’t a school night, one late night wouldn’t hurt.

|

She smiled over at Ian as he crashed back down onto the sofa, handing her one of the beers he’d gone to get from the kitchen, leaving the second on the coffee table for Lip once he returned from the toilet, and opening the third himself.

“Good to be home?”

“Yeah, definitely beats the group home.”

That wasn’t a surprise, she’d spent time in group homes herself, back when she was still considered a kid. They’d been horrible enough but had nothing on what she’d heard about Gunderson House.

“So you still owe me an explanation.”

Ian blinked at her, clearly confused.

“Huh?”

“Why the hell was Mickey Milkovich of all people basically being operated on in my kitchen?”

In the weeks since her kids had been taken, there had been a lot more pressing issues on Fiona’s mind than the shot up Milkovich kid. But now that things were settled she wanted answers. Answers it seemed her little brother was reluctant to give if the look on his face was anything to go by.

Ian looked away from her, shrugging.

“It’s kinda a long story.”

“You said you could explain.” Fiona said, reaching over to nudge him slightly. “Well I want that explanation.”

Ian looked up at her then, thats when she realised he’d looked away to hide the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

“I’m kinda tired, can we talk about this another time?” It was a question but his voice cracked slightly at the end and he was moving to get up before he’d even finished the sentence.

Fiona wasn’t an idiot, she knew her brothers hid things from her. Honestly there was a whole lot of things she was glad they didn’t talk to her about. Teenage boy stuff she really didn’t need to know. Ian especially, for a kid who’d always worn his heart on his sleeve, had always been good at keeping his cards close to his chest. Fiona had hoped that after he’d felt comfortable to come out to her, that he’d start to let her in, just a little bit more, talk to her about the important things he’d kept hidden away. That hadn’t happened, if anything he was pulling further away. She worried that soon he’d be lost to her completely.

“Hey.” She reached out grabbing his arm. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, just tired, it’s been a long day.” He attempted to smile but it seemed off, fake instead of his usual big dopey grin. Thinking about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen it.

“Ian I changed your shitty diapers, you honestly think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

Ian let out a breath and dropped back down onto the sofa. She could see Lip, standing in the shadows of the kitchen, concerned, ready to jump in to help their brother, same as always. If even Lip didn’t know what was going on with Ian, it had to be bad. She shook her head slightly at Lip, telling him to stay put, the more people the less likely it was that Ian would open up, and she was really starting to get a bad feeling.

“Come on Sweetface, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I’m handling it okay?”

“Can’t be nothing if there’s something to handle. You know you can talk to me.”

Ian looked at her for a second. “Yeah I know.” He paused for a second, maybe debating finally opening up to his sister. “I’m gonna turn in, night.”

“Ian wait a second.”

Ian didn’t reply, his back already disappearing up the stairs.

Fiona turned towards Lip who’d slowly made his way into the room while Ian had ran upstairs.

“You know what’s going on with him?”

“No, he seemed fine, well about a week ago he came back with bruises and seemed a little shaken up, wouldn’t talk about it but he seemed okay the next day so.”

Fiona frowned, turning to look once again to the stairs, up which where her little brother had just gone. Something was definitely going on with him, it was only a question of if he’d ever let her know what.

|

It was the sixth day in a row that she’s visited Ian at the Milkovich house. Six days since she got an early release, only to get home to find her brother practically comatose in Mickey’s bed. She still didn’t quite understand what was going on between the two teenagers, just that when Ian came home, Mickey came with him. And now that Ian was sick, the Milkovich was saying Ian was his family and refusing to let him leave. Not that there was much of a chance of moving Ian, getting him to the bathroom was hard enough, let along the few blocks to the Gallagher house. Still she didn’t trust Mickey to be able to take care of him, family or not. So everyday she came over, brought him food, spent hours sitting with him, trying to get him to talk. All the things she’d long since given up doing for Monica. All the things she couldn’t imagine giving up on for Ian.

She eased the door open, no one without a death wish would dare steal from the Milkoviches so the front door was almost always unlocked. She could see a few Milkovich siblings or cousins, she was never sure which, while on her way to Mickey’s bedroom but didn’t pay them much mind, they weren’t who she was here for.

The door to Mickey’s room was slightly ajar, letting Fiona see into the room without making her presence known.

“Come on man you gotta eat something.” Mickey was crouched down on the far side of the bed, a bowl and spoon clutched in his hands.

“Not hungry.”

It was crazy how those two words made Fiona’s heart soar. They weren’t positive but Ian had made such few acknowledgments of them over the past week that it still felt like improvement.

“Couple of spoonfuls and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Ayy Mickey get out here, need your opinion on something.” Came a yell from the living room.

Mickey looked up from the redhead, locking eyes with his boyfriend’s sister from across the room, but seemingly unsurprised to find her there.

“Can I try?” She asked tentatively, not wanting to cause Mickey to have another outburst, not with Ian so vulnerable in the room

Mickey shrugged. “Sure.” He replied, leaving the bowl and spoon on the side table before leaving to settle whatever his family had going on.

“Hey Ian, how’re you feeling today?” She asked taking Mickeys spot on the floor.

Ian just blinked back at her before slowly closing his eyes completely

“Things seem kinda crazy around here, guess crazy just goes with the Milkoviches. Follows them around or something. You know crazy, like that time Mickey was bleeding out in the kitchen. Seems almost like it could be a normal occurrence here, that why I never got an explanation?” Fiona forced a little laugh at the end, she was trying to keep all her interactions with Ian upbeat in the hope in might help him. It hadn’t so far.

“M tired Fi.”

“That’s what you said last time I ask you know.”

Ian made no move to acknowledge she’d spoken that time, a reaction she was slowly getting used to.

“Okay you don’t wanna talk. Can you eat something for me?”

She didn’t get a response that time either.

|

It was hard to believe this was going to be the last time she sat around this table, in this kitchen, having dinner with her family like she had so many times before. She may have moved out two years ago but the time she’d spent here, growing up and raising her siblings alongside her, was never something she would fully leave behind. Even if now they were selling the house, all of them moving on with their lives like she’d chosen herself when she’d left.

“The amount of shit this kitchen has seen, hope the new owners have bleach.” Lip said with a laugh.

“I feel like I’ve got to ask, but do you mean actual shit?”

“What no, well probably not.”

“Cousin Patrick did leave that toilet in the middle of the living room.” Debbie pointed out.

“Okay maybe actual shit.”

Mickey wrinkled his nose. “You said my house was bad.”

“Like you haven’t left you’re mark on the kitchen, I came home to you bleeding out on the countertops once.”

“Oh fuck yeah, still got the scars from that shit. If I’d been allowed to take my guns.” He paused to glare at his husband. “Then none of that would have happened.”

“How was I suppose to know the drunk old lady had a shotgun?”

“It was your fucking heist, you’re meant to find this shit out!”

“Wait so that’s what happened, you were breaking in somewhere and he got shot?”

Ian shrugged. “Ned asked me to steal some stuff from his wife’s house. Didn’t think anyone would get hurt.”

“Well you thought wrong.” Mickey huffed.

“Aww poor baby.” Ian cooed, putting a hand around Mickey to pull him over and kiss the side of his head. Mickey seemed to be trying to keep glaring throughout but a slight smile broke through. The stability the two of them seemed to have these days was a welcome surprise for Fiona when she’d arrived the day before, she hadn’t been fully sure what to expect from the renewed relationship between the two of them but it looked like this time for the most part the two of them had their act together.

“Wait who’s Ned?” Liam asked.

Ian opened his mouth to speak but Lip beat him to it.

“Ned was this old dude that Ian was banging back in the day to make Mickey jealous. He was also the dad of Fiona’s boyfriend at the time.”

“Thanks for that Lip.”

“I wasn’t fucking jealous.”

“I regret asking.”

The three replies came at the same time, sparking more voices to keep talking over each other and several conversations spiralling at once.

Fiona leaned back, not quite wanting to participate right now, just wanting to bask in the warmth of the chaos of her family home one last time. And processing that finally she got that long ago promised explanation, maybe not quite worth the wait, it was still nice to finally know.

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 7

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 7

Chapter Summary: Just an ordinary Sunday

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Smut. Alcohol consumption. 

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6}

Just an ordinary Sunday. An ordinary Sunday with nothing special about it what so ever. Just your average, everyday, run of the mill Sunday.

Oh, except for that 'date' Faye had been freaking out about for days now. She was acting like a teenager again, and worst still, she knew she was. Should she do something special with her hair? Should she bother with makeup? What if she ended up getting a surprise pimple? Most importantly, what was she supposed to wear? Would it be weird to just show up in regular clothes, or would it be weirder to show up over dressed? Sure, she could actually ask him like a reasonable adult, but she refused to admit ignorance of what dating looked like anymore, so here she was, an hour before she was supposed to leave, staring at her closet in absolute terror and confusion.

There was one last resource she hadn't tapped into just yet. Her trump card. Possibly her last line of defense to keep from looking like an idiot. Or more like an idiot, depending on how you look at the situation.

"Briar!"

"Mommy, why you nakie?" Briar giggled as she came toddling into the room at top speed, wrapping her arms around her mother's leg.

"I'm not nakie, I have my underwear on." Faye pointed out, rolling her eyes. This child of hers. "Do you wanna pick out what Mommy wears when we go see Henry?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Briar gasped, hurrying over to her mother's closet and surveying the items hung up. "This one's pretty!" Briar gasped, grabbing the skirt of one of the dresses hung up. All in all, not a bad pick. Casual enough to not look like she was trying too hard, nice enough that she didn't look like a slob. Briar to the rescue, once again. Now the only problem was getting it on. This particular dress was backless with a litany of different ties crossing each other to make it fit just right. She hadn't worn this dress since she'd moved across the ocean. Now she didn't have her trusty siblings to help her get it on right, and Briar didn't know how to tie anything.

It took some doing, a lot of wiggling, and a bit of compromise as far as fit went, but she did eventually get it on. She tossed a denim jacket on to keep her back somewhat warm, deciding to quit while she was ahead and leave before she continued fussing with her appearance even more. She had her daughter, dressed in a little tulle dress with her hair up in pigtails. As far as Faye was concerned, she had everything she needed.

Henry greeted her at the door with a brilliant smile, a button up that was crying for mercy and the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen.

"Kal!" Briar squealed, rushing past Henry to hug the fluffy dog.

"It's great to finally have you over." Henry greeted, pulling Faye in for a hug as soon as she crossed the threshold.

"Thank you for inviting us." Faye responded, stealthily breathing him in as she returned his affectionate gesture. Why did this man have to smell so good?

"Dinner should be done soon."

"It smells great. I didn't know you could cook."

"Well I didn't expect you to cook anything. Not after that baking disaster." Henry teased, raising a brow at her.

"Hey now, cooking and baking are two different things. Baking is a science. Cooking is an art."

"Is that just a nice way of saying you can't follow directions?"

"How very rude of you, sir. Throwing my inability to follow directions at me."

"May I take your jacket? Or are the directions for removing it too complicated?"

"So very mean." Faye grumbled, letting her jacket slide off her shoulders and passing it off.

"Oh, now that's a doozy." Henry murmured to himself, tilting his head and gently skimming his fingers over the artwork covering her back.

"That's my big one." Faye chuckled, turning more to let him get a better look.

"I'm looking forward to uncovering more." Henry whispered in her ear, gently squeezing her shoulders and sliding past her to hang her jacket up. That fucking tease.

Faye scooped Briar up and followed her nose to the kitchen, snooping around to see what was cooking. A few different pots and pans were on the stove, and something was cooking away in the oven. She curiously cracked the oven door open and looked in, groaning softly at the smell of roasting meat. Faye jumped when she felt a hand on her hip, the oven door snapping shut as she turned to see Henry's amused face looking down at her.

"Are you ladies having fun?"

"Brockey?" Briar asked hopefully, reaching over for Henry to take her.

"I didn't forget your favorite." Henry chuckled, taking the toddler in one arm and reaching for the chopped vegetable on the nearby cutting board with the other. "Now I don't have princess plates, but the table is all set if you two would like to have a seat." He instructed, passing the placated toddler back to her mother.

Faye seated her daughter first, shaking her head when she saw three wine glasses, two already filled with wine, one holding what appeared to be chocolate milk.

"I take it the milk is for Briar?"

"If she won't drink it, I will." Henry shrugged, shooting Faye a cheeky grin over his shoulder.

Faye seated herself next to her daughter, smoothing her dress beneath herself and trying not to fidget. Just because she was nervous, didn't mean she had to act nervous, right? Maybe a  few sips of wine would help settle her nerves.

Three glasses of wine and one amazing meal later, Faye found herself sitting on Henry's couch, My Little Pony playing in the background to keep the half asleep toddler entertained while his fingers drew light patterns along her shoulders and arms. Her head rested on his shoulder, reluctantly forcing herself to break the domestic spell they found themselves trapped in.

"It's getting late." Faye pointed out, shifting her head to look up at her host. "We should probably get going."

"I'm not so sure you should be driving." Henry pointed out gently, glancing at her almost empty glass of wine.

"Gonna drive us home, then?" Faye giggled, nuzzling against his shoulder.

"Why don't you two just stay here for the night? Briar is already about to fall asleep on the rug." Henry chuckled, nodding toward the half asleep child on the floor.

"I didn't exactly plan on a sleep over."

"I have a spare room."

"Briar still has accidents, though. I don't want her ruining your mattress. Wait... I think I still have some diapers in the car!" Faye gasped, her eyes lighting up.

"I'll run out and get them, where are your keys?"

"In my jacket." Faye mumbled after a second of thinking, scooting over to allow Henry to stand.

After Faye woke up the toddler and got her changed, Henry scooped the little girl up, carrying her down the hall to the spare room to tuck her in, plugging in the night light he'd bought when he'd learned about her fear of the dark. He hadn't ever exactly planned on them staying over just yet, but thought it best to take precautions to keep the child placated and in her own room if they ever did stay over.

"Now, where were we?" Faye purred after he had pulled the door closed, wrapping her arms around his thick neck and leaning up on her tip toes to kiss at his jawline, her fingers toying with the hairs at the back of his neck.

"Faye, slow down." Henry chuckled, gently taking her elbows and moving her back.

"You don't want to?" Faye asked softly, uncertainty and insecurity written all over her face, tugging harshly at Henry's heart. This definitely wasn't how he planned on this night going.

"Shh, no tears." He soothed, wiping at the moisture she didn't even know was collecting in her eyes. Even though she had braced herself for rejection around every corner, she still found her heart breaking at the reality of it. She knew better than to get her hopes up. She had told herself time and time again not to even entertain the idea, but their last evening together on her couch continued echoing hope in her mind.

"I-I'm so sorry." Faye excused herself, pulling further away from him, looking away to hide her flushed face.

"Hey, no." Henry corrected, pulling her in close again. "Faye, I want this. I want you. Believe me, I really do, but not like this."

"What do you mean?" Faye sniffled softly, still not looking up at him, settling for resting her head against his chest.

"You're not even fit to drive right now, Faye. I'd only be taking advantage of you." Henry explained, gently running his fingers up and down her spine. "And I'm not going to do that."

"What if I just jump you then?" Faye pouted, her hand sliding up his thick thigh, feeling  emboldened by his admission.

"Then I'd say it's a good thing I'm a big boy that can take care of myself." Henry chuckled, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together.

"So you won't let me have any fun?" She pouted, finally turning her face to look up at him.

"Not like this. We'll see how you feel in the morning. Now let's get you off to bed." With that he scooped her up, chuckling at her grumbled of protest as he carried her down the hall to his bedroom, her complaints about being able to walk falling on deaf ears.

"But I'm not tired." Faye yawned as her final act of unconvincing defiance, cuddling into his chest as he pushed the door open.

"I'm sure you aren't, but it's getting late." Henry soothed, setting her down on the edge of the bed to rummage though his drawers to find her something to wear. Surely she wouldn't enjoy sleeping in her dress, no matter how beautifully it hugged every curve.

"Come on, let's get this off." Henry encouraged, tugging at the hem of her dress.

"Oh, change your mind?" Faye giggled, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

"No, I just don't think this is too comfortable to sleep in." Henry chuckled, helping her to her feet and turning her around to better access the ties holding her dress in place.

"Wait." Faye suddenly protested.

"What's wrong?" His hands, froze, his eyes snapping up to look at the back of her head.

"I'm not wearing a bra." Faye mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug. Of course, now she's shy. How was this the same girl that was trying to grope him not ten minutes earlier?

"Promise I won't look." Henry chuckled, shaking his head at his fickle house guest as he finished untying her dress, Faye reluctantly letting it fall away, all the while feeling she should have asked him to turn the lights off first. She quickly grabbed the shirt off the edge of the bed and pulled it on, glancing over her shoulder to find he had turned around, eyes averted to the wall as he waited, just like he promised.

"Thank you." Faye mumbled, tugging at the hem of the shirt, wishing it were just a little longer. "You know, I'm not that drunk." She tried one last time. "I'm tipsy at best."

"It still wouldn't be right." Henry shrugged, moving around her to pull down the blankets and gently usher her into bed.

"Wait, you are staying with me, right?" Faye half yawned, turning her big doe like eyes up to him.

"I don't know, are you going to keep your hands to yourself, Miss Warren?" Henry teased.

"I'll be good. Just want a cuddle." Faye assured, snuggling back into the bed, watching his every move as he went about preparing himself for bed, stripping out of the too tight button down, tossing it into the laundry as he absently scratched at his furry chest. His pants quickly followed in suit before he shut the lights off and clambered into bed next to her. Normally he would sleep bare, but decided it wouldn't be the best idea given the current circumstances.

"Now remember, hands to yourself, Miss Warren." Henry reminded, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. Faye cuddled into him and drifted off into a dreamless sleep, happily curled into his side and breathing him in with a small smile etched on her face.

The next morning, Faye woke up to someone breathing in her ear and a rather heavy arm slung across her chest. She shifted her leg and couldn't help but smile to herself when her thigh brushed against something hard, moving her leg against it again with more purpose, rousing the slumbering man next to her.

"Mmm, good morning." He hummed, cracking his eyes open, his hips rolling toward her probing thigh.

"You know, I'm not drunk anymore." Faye pointed out, squealing when she found herself suddenly trapped beneath him.

"Is that right?" He hummed, pressing gentle kisses to her neck and shoulder, letting one hand gently glide up and down her side, slowly lifting the hem of her improvised nightgown as he went. It would seem she found herself in the presence of a morning person. A very eager morning person, complete with morning wood. He sat back on his heels as he slid her shirt off, biting his lip and groaning softly at the first glimpse of her naked chest.

"Fucking gorgeous." He growled, leaning in and kissing her left breast tenderly, basking in her low whines, her legs wrapping around his waist as he caught her nipple in his mouth, gently flicking it with his tongue. So soft. So tender.

Slowly he slid further down her body, gently untangling her legs from his torso as he descended, leaving small kisses and nips along her stomach, Faye's increased breathing and soft whimpers only spurring him on. His eyes caught a small bit of color creeping over her left side, his attention instantly diverting to the artwork decorating her ribs. "A little mermaid." He chuckled, his fingers gently tracing the lines before pressing a quick kiss to it, not missing her ticklish squirm. That would be something to remember for later.

Henry continued his descent, his unshaved scruff eliciting a shiver as it drug along her sensitive skin, finally coming to a rest at her lacy panties, humming to himself in appreciation. He definitely was a man that enjoyed seeing his lady in lace. His fingers skimmed along the top of her panties, Faye gasping and fighting to stay still as he pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to her still clothed mound.

"What are you doing?" Faye gasped, sitting up on her elbows as he slid her panties to the side, her chest heaving in anticipation as she met his gaze.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, raising a brow, his fingers gently tracing where her leg met her body.

"I... you don't... have to do... that."

"I want to." Henry explained, leaning in and licking a stripe up between her nether lips, a strangled gasp catching in her chest. He shifted between her legs, hooking her knees over his broad shoulders for better access, pressing an absent minded to kiss to the water colored artwork decorating her thigh. He would have to take a closer look at that later but for now, he was a man on a mission.

He delved back in, his tongue eagerly exploring her glistening petals, chuckling to himself when her hips bucked up into his waiting mouth.

"Oh, you are definitely going to be sitting on my face later." Henry hummed to himself, laying a thick forearm over her hips to keep her still. "But for now, let me do the work."

His lips sealed around her sensitive bud, sucking gently as his tongue worked over it, her hips jerking with every flick of his tongue. Her fingers tangled themselves in his untamed curls, her nails scratching at his scalp as she tried to pull him closer. More. She needed more.

He worked over her sensitive clit, moaning softly at the way she would tug on his hair, her legs clamping on his head when she moaned out his name, her hips spasming even under his restraining arm as she came hard on his waiting tongue. It would appear his lady was easy to please.

"Taste so good, Faye." Henry whispered, planting one final kiss to her soaked folds before carefully pulling back.

"That was amazing." Faye panted, releasing his hair with shaking hands to push her own sweat dampened strands from her face.

"Your pussy tastes so good." Henry praised, slowly crawling up her body, licking his lips lewdly as he stared down at her with lust blown eyes.

"Really?" Faye mumbled, her brows knitting together. "Every boyfriend I've had acted like that was a chore. That's why I said you didn't have to."

"They don't know what they're missing." Henry snorted, pressing his still clothed erection against her swollen, sensitive folds, his shoulders slumping when a faint crying met his ears.

"Shit, the baby." Faye groaned, her face falling.

"Go on, make sure she's ok." Henry relented, reluctantly removing himself from her.

"What about you?" Faye asked, already pulling the borrowed shirt back on.

"I'll be out once I calm down a bit."

"I'm so sorry." Faye sighed, squeaking in surprise when he playfully swatted at her backside when she slid out of bed.

"Go check on the baby, I'll be out in a bit." Henry dismissed, unashamedly staring at her ass as she headed to the door.

"Enjoying the view?"

"More than you know."

"One of these days, we are going to seal the deal, Mr. Cavill." Faye assured, giving him a pointed look as she slipped out the door.

"I look forward to it." Henry sighed to himself. Hopefully that day was going to come soon. The wait was killing him.

@Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

Snowed In

Pairing: Harry Wells x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Arguments

Summary: Getting trapped by a snowstorm in a different city wasn’t the way you’d planned to spend New Years. Spending it with your boss, Harrison Wells hadn’t been on the cards either. But when the power goes out, the two of you find yourself coming together

A/N: Just a small something to wish people a Happy New Year

“Are you sure there’s no way…? Yes, I understand but it’s vital we get back as soon as possible....okay...yes...please...thank you. Bye.” Hanging up the phone, you sighed and looked out the window at the sheets of snow coming down to blanket the city around you in white. You should’ve been heading back to Central City tomorrow, ending a week of meetings a day early to avoid a snowstorm, but it had come in faster than expected and now you were grounded until further notice. It could’ve been worse. You’d rented a house for the week, and the owner had already been in touch to confirm you could stay at no extra cost. So you had a roof over your head, a full cupboard and warmth. Not the most awful way to get trapped in a strange city. However, you knew one person who wouldn’t be happy at this new turn of events.

Turning away from the large plane of glass, you looked over at Harrison sitting at the dining table, scowling at his laptop. Your boss hadn’t wanted to come, but since he was the main focus of the meetings, hadn’t been able to get out of it either. And after days of complaining about how these unnecessary distractions were hindering his development of the Particle Accelerator, he was surely not going to take the news well.  

“Dr. Wells?” You called, approaching him and waiting for him to look up from his work. “I’ve spoken to every airline and transport hub in the City. I’m afraid we’re stuck here until the storm has cleared.”

The scowl stayed firmly in place as he tossed his glasses onto the table. “How long will that be?”

“Three days. At best.”

“Great. I promised Jesse I’d be home for lunch on New Years Day.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve set it up so I’ll be contacted the moment we can leave.”

Harrison nodded, his focus already back on his laptop. “Good. Now excuse me, I have to go let down my daughter.”

You felt bad about it, yet as awkward as you’d expected to be cooped up in a house with your boss to be, the first day wasn’t all that bad at all. In fact, after speaking to Jesse, and apparently being reassured that his delay was okay, Harrison seemed to be in a rather pleasant mood. The two of you shared dinner together, and it was...nice. Harrison was good company when he wanted to be, it seemed.

Then, on the second night, disaster struck. The power went out. Not just in your house, but in half the city. And with it went your heating. 

Shivering in the kitchen, you hung up the phone. “There’s nothing to be done. We just have to wait for everything to come back on.”

“So we’re just meant to sit here and freeze?!”

“We do have the fire…”

“Great.” Harrison ran his hands through his hair as he paced, “This is your fault.”

“My fault? How exactly?”

“If you’d rescheduled, we wouldn’t be here!”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You knew these things had to be dealt with by January for months. If you hadn’t made me reschedule three times already, we could’ve come over the summer and avoided this whole mess!”

“So it’s my fault?”

“Your stubbornness didn’t exactly help!”

It was Harrison’s turn to scoff now. “My stubbornness? I’m sorry if working on a ground breaking, world changing project comes before a few idiotic meetings that ultimately affect nothing!”

“You still have a business to lead!”

“The Particle Accelerator is more important!”

“I know! I know how important it is. I know you need to be left alone.”

“Then why don’t you do your job and make sure I am?”

That stung. “I do.”

“Not well enough! If you did I wouldn’t be stuck here, with no heat, no light, no internet, unable to work on anything for God knows how long!”

“Not well enough?” You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Do you have any idea how much bullshit I’ve kept off your plate these past couple years? How much banal drivel you have no idea about because I intercepted it before it even got a chance to enter your peripheral? All the while dealing with whatever else you put on me on top! I can’t even begin to count the amount of hours I’ve worked longer than I should have to make sure everything is running smoothly and you don’t get interrupted from your ‘important’ work!”

“Well if it’s so much work you’re free to hand in your notice whenever you like!”

“Yeah? Maybe I will! I’ll have a job with someone who appreciates me in days!”

“FINE!”

“FINE!” Turning on your heel you stormed off back into your room, slamming the door behind you loudly.

Slumping on the bed, your tears felt hot against your skin in the cold, dark room. You cried quietly, muffling your sobs in the pillow lest he hear you. You didn’t need him calling you out on that too.

As stubborn headed and difficult to work for as Harrison was, you’d always loved your job. You loved the challenge of juggling everything, and knowing you were helping to keep his schedule as clear as possible to leave him free to work on his projects made you feel like you helped with them in some small way, though he’d probably laugh at you for it. But on top of it all, you’d always liked Harrison. Yeah, he was more like a grumpy, feral alleycat than the CEO of a billion dollar company, but he’d always been decent to you. Aside from his daughter, you were probably the person who spent most time with him, and you’d always gotten along well. Until now. He’d never been that angry before. Unhappy? Yeah. Annoyed? That was practically his permanent state. But never angry. Not at you. And that hurt. 

You cried harder into the pillow, mad at him for acting the way he did and mad at yourself for fucking up as badly as you had. Maybe if you’d just tried harder to reschedule again…

A sharp rap at the door pulled you from your thoughts. “Y/L/N. I’ve got the fire lit. It’s warm out here now.”

You didn’t want to face him, but staying in your room while it was this cold wouldn’t do any good either. You didn’t need hypothermia on top of everything else. 

 Sniffing and wiping away the tears as best you could, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, and emerged from the bedroom. 

He'd done well. He'd set up enough candles that you could see decently. There was a fire blazing in the living room, and he'd put out blankets on the sofa and floor. In different circumstances it'd be cozy. Romantic, even. 

Harrison was standing near the sofa watching you. If he could make out the tear stains in the dim light, he had enough courtesy left not to say anything. Standing awkwardly a few feet away from him, you kept the blanket pulled close tightly. "Sit down. Get warm," Harrison said, looking just as awkward as he stepped aside. 

"Thank you, sir." You kept your voice even while you moved to settle on the sofa. Harrison didn't join like you'd expected, instead disappearing off someplace else. 

You stayed where you were, feet tucked up under you and let the warmth of the fire slowly soak into you. Even the blanket and the flames you still found yourself a little chilly, but compared to how cold it’d been in your room, you felt a world better. You could hear Harrison move about the rest of the house and occasionally caught him muttering under his breath, but what he was actually doing, you had no idea. Until he reappeared again, arms full. He set everything down on the floor with a slight puff, and started organizing them. When he straightened, he was holding a lump of dark material.

“Here. Put this on,” he said, waving it in your direction.

Wiggling out from your blanket cocoon, you reached for the item. The moment you grasped it, you recognised the material. “This is your coat.”

“Excellent observation. Now put it on, you need the extra layer.”

“What about you?” You asked, pulling on the coat. It was heavy on your shoulders but the extra warmth was felt immediately.

“I’m fine. I’m more used to the cold than you are.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

All you got in return was a nod then Harrison was back sorting through the rest of the items he’d brought. “I’m heating up soup. Tomato or chicken?”

“Tomato.”

Harrison knelt on the blankets covering the floor as he opened the can and poured the contents into a pot. It felt weird, sitting on the sofa while he was working, so you wrapped your blanket back around yourself, and sat on the floor too, back leaning against the sofa. You watched as he pulled a few other things together, using them to create a hook and support so he could hang the pot safely over the fire. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” 

Harrison glanced over his shoulder before securing the pot above the flames. “It’s just some basic engineering. An idiot could do it.” He was silent for several seconds so you thought that was the end of it. “It’s easier in a home with supplies.”

“You’ve done it before?”

“In the military. Part of basic training.”

“You didn’t just do it in basic training.”

“No.”

You’d known he’d been in the army during the War, but he’d never brought it up before so you’d never asked. Even now, you didn’t want to pry, but you were curious. “Is that why you’re more used to the cold, too?” 

“Hmm.”

“Did you spend a lot of time outside?”

“Not as much as some. They kept me in the labs. Mostly.” Harrison stared into the flames for a few seconds, then cleared his throat. “The soup will take a few minutes more.”

“Okay.” Neither of you spoke further, instead just listening to the flames crackle and the soup start to bubble in the pot. Despite the earlier argument, the silence was surprisingly comfortable. As quickly as the moment had passed, you’d never known Harrison to be so open, and that he’d been willing to do so with you, felt nice.

Eventually, Harrison scooped out two bowlfuls of soup and scooted back until he was next to you. “Careful, it’s hot,” he said, passing you one.

“Thank you.” Blowing on a spoonful, you hummed at the warmth of it. Between the food, the layers, the fire, and now Harrison next you, the last of the cold seeped away, and for the first time in hours, you actually felt toasty.

When you were both done and the bowls had been pushed to the side, the two of you stayed close together, enjoying the new found warmth. Harrison occasionally moved to stoke the fire, but other than that, neither of you did anything. You were cozy enough, that it didn’t take long before you started to feel yourself drift off.

“Stay,” Harrison said, just before you fell asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t quit. Stay.”

“I thought you wanted someone who’s good at their job?”

“I do, and that person is you. What you asked earlier, about if I knew how much you do for me? The answer is I do. I just never realised it. My life has been quieter since I hired you, a lot quieter, and I took that for granted. You’ve always performed admirably, and I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” you whispered, looking over at him.

“Does that mean you’ll stay?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay. I like working for you.”

Harrison chuckled, “I’m not sure many would say that.”

“Maybe I’m just odd.”

“Or special.”

Cheeks heating, you looked away. “I wouldn’t go that far, I’m not the genius who’s going to change the world.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do it without you. You’ve helped more than you know.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Doctor Wells.”

“I think being trapped in front of a fire with no power calls for first names.”

“Alright. Harrison.”

Harrison returned your smile then checked his watch. “It’s nearly midnight. Join me for a glass of wine?”

“I’d like that.”

Harrison got up and disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned he was carrying two glasses and a bottle of white wine. He popped it, and poured out two glasses.

“Not the way you’d planned to spend New Year’s Eve, I bet,” you said, taking one of the glasses.

“No, it’s not. This is better.”

“I agree.”

The wine was delicious, and the two of you sipped it together until Harrison’s watch beeped once again. 

“Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”

Clinking your glasses, you realized Harrison’s eyes stayed on you while you finished the drink. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” The answer came too quickly.

“No secrets in front of the fire.”

Harrison chuckled, looking down into his own glass as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just...thinking.”

“About?”

“I can’t. It’d be....inappropriate of me.”

“Tell me, Harrison,” you said quietly, butterflies forming in your stomach.

He hesitated a moment, then met your gaze, “I was thinking that...I’d like to kiss you.”

Gasping softly, you lost every word you knew. Harrison seemed to think that was bad. “Like I said, it’s inappropriate. Forget I said anything.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I won’t forget,” you whispered, setting your glass down to scooch closer. “I’d like it if you did.”

“You don’t have to say that because I’m your boss.”

“I’m not.” Hesitantly, you reached up to touch his face, smiling when he didn’t pull away. “I want to kiss you too.”

Harrison studied your face for a few seconds, then his lips were on yours, pressing softly but insistently. You kissed back, moaning softly as you wound your arms around his shoulders, lips parting for him. 

You kissed for what seemed like an age, yet even when Harrison pulled back slightly breathless, it felt like it was over too soon. “Y/N, that was…”

“Amazing.”

“I agree.” He brought a hand to your face, calloused fingers brushing over your skin oh so gently, as if he were afraid he’d hurt you. “I haven’t done this since...since my wife…”

“I understand.” You copied his action, brushing fingers over his cheek just as slowly. “We can go slow.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Harrison kissed you again, arms wrapping around your body as he slowly lowered you to the ground. With him hovering over you, it was the warmest you’d ever felt. 

When you awoke the next morning, the fire in front of you had died out, but there was still a solid heat pressed to your back, and an arm wrapped securely around your waist. Smiling to yourself, you turned into the embrace to meet a pair of clear blue eyes. 

“Good morning,” you said softly.

“Good morning.” Harrison’s eyes flicked down to your lips then back to your eyes. “Do you have any regrets?”

“Not a one. You?”

“No.” Harrison pressed his lips to yours. You moaned into it. 

A perfect start to the year.

[s-nebul0sa]

Warm

It is already getting late when Lena finally arrives home. She has had a long week at work with a lot to wrap up. And it doesn’t help that today has not agreed with her so far and doesn’t seem keen to start doing so now. She woke up with a headache and sore throat. They only made it harder to focus and dragged out her workday even more.

By the time she reaches the front door, her legs feel weak. Her head is pounding so much, she has trouble to guide the key inside the lock. She all but stumbles over the threshold, dumping her purse on the floor next to the door. Without bothering to take off her coat or shoes, she drags her feet to get to the living room. There, she slumps down on the couch and closes her eyes.

“Lena?” Kara’s voice says. Lena can hear her footsteps get closer. “I knew I heard you. How was work?”

Kara’s footsteps stop a bit away and Lena forces her eyes open.

Kara sounds concerned as she nears Lena. She stops on the other side of the coffee table and regards Lena, who pries open her eyes with some effort.

“A fucking disaster.” Lena closes her eyes again. Cold shivers travel through her body, from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes and back.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks, concern clear in her voice.

Lena wants to defensively say, “Yes.” But she doesn’t. This is Kara. She can be honest with Kara. Kara won’t judge.

“No.” It is as if that admission breaks a dam and Lena has to fight to hold back tears. But that is something she is good at, so with a few rough swallows and by sheer force of will, she keeps them at bay and breathes through the urge to cry.

“Is there anything I can do?” Kara’s voice is now a lot closer. When Lena looks, she’s right next to her, kneeling by the couch.

“I don’t know,” Lena admits. She just wants to feel better but she has no idea how to. She rarely gets sick and whenever she does, she would just work through it and deny she even felt bad in the first place. But now that she is allowed to feel bad, and has admitted it, it feels somehow impossible to ignore anymore.

“Do you want something to eat?” Kara suggests.

Lena shakes her head. A grave mistake because it only makes the pounding worse. Instinctively, she closes her eyes in hopes of the pain fading again. And after a moment, it does. Slightly.

“Some tea?”

“Maybe. I guess something to drink won’t hurt,” Lena agrees. She doesn’t know whether she actually wants something to drink, but it seems less in disagreement with her stomach than food at the moment.

“Okay, I will make some,” Kara says. “But let me first help you get comfortable. At least take off your shoes.”

Lena hums in agreement and Kara starts helping Lena take off her shoes before she can make a move to do so herself. Next, Kara helps Lena take off her coat and covers her in a blanket. A few minutes later, she places two steaming mugs on the coffee table.

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” she asks.

“Please,” Lena almost begs. If she were feeling any better, she’d think she sounds pathetic. But she doesn’t feel any better. So she doesn’t think anything of it.

Kara carefully lifts Lena’s head and takes a seat, putting Lena’s head in her lap. Slowly, she cards her hands through Lena’s hair and Lena can feel herself start to relax. Slowly, the tension in her muscles fades as Kara’s body heat and the blanket engulf her in comfortable warmth.

With her free hand, Kara strokes soft circles on Lena’s temple. In Kara’s hands, Lena is safe and able to just be. Safe and warm.

Before she knows it, Lena can feel herself slip into sleep. She wakes up briefly when Kara carries her to bed and wraps herself around Lena, cuddling her close.

Read on AO3

[queenxxxsupreme]

Same anon about positivity, thank you so much for the advice! It makes a lot of sense. As for some Eskel fluff, consider this: Eskel pulling his surprised partner down into bed when he's very drunk and they erupt into a fit of giggles :D

A/N: BABY THIS IS WHAT I NEEED

***

“Well hello, gentlemen.” Yennefer greeted. You entered the dining area of Kaer Morhen alongside her, your eyes flickering around the room.

The both of you had spent the day in Flotsam, shopping around for new clothes before the harsh winter weather came. This left Eskel, Lambert, and Geralt at the keep alone. Vesemir left early that morning to take care of what he called ‘witcher business’ and refused to share any more details with anyone. 

“Yenn!” Geralt looked up from the table covered in Gwent cards and empty bottles, smiling at the sight of the mage. “And Y/N!”

“Where have you guys been all day?” Lambert asked, his words slurred as he swayed just slightly in his seat. 

“We went to Flotsam.” You answered, moving around the table so you could stand behind Eskel. The witcher had his eyes on you the second he heard Geralt say your name. “Hello, love.”

“Hi, doll.” He hiccuped, leaning back against you and tilting his head up to get a look at you. 

“How was your day?” You brushed your hand along the plane of his cheek, admiring the gentle scratch his stubble caused. 

You could smell the stench of liquor in the air. It was clear as day that the three witchers were drunk. 

“Good.” He answered, sitting up rather quickly and pointing an accusing finger at Lambert. “He stole all my coins!”

Lambert smacked his hand against the table then pointed back at Eskel. 

“I won them fair and square!”

“Hey! Hey! Don’t yell in front of the ladies.” Geralt put a hand on Lambert’s arm since he sat next to the young wolf and reached across the table to put his hand on Eskel’s arm but instead found an empty bottle laying on its side. Geralt didn’t seem to notice. He squeezed the bottle like he’d squeeze Eskel’s arm. “It’s not polite.”

“Fuck polite.” Lambert swatted Geralt’s hand off of his shoulder. 

“I think it’s time for bed.” Yennefer suggested, moving towards the door to the staircase. She stopped just before reaching the door. “Unless you’d like to sleep down here, Geralt.”

The White Wolf tripped as he tried to stand from the bench and turn to Yennefer all in one motion. 

Lambert and Eskel broke out into laughter as Geralt caught himself on his hands and knees. 

“Fuck!” Geralt jumped to his feet and started towards Yennefer, though his steps were much wider than what they needed to be. 

You shook your head, laughing at the witcher. 

“Are you sleeping down here, Lambert?” You asked, turning your head to him. 

“Why? You need company?” He grinned, looking down into a bottle to see if he could get anymore liquor out of it. 

“Hey.” Eskel scowled. He leaned back against you as if to claim you. “No.”

Lambert looked from Eskel to you, then back to Eskel and finally, his eyes landed on you. 

“Ew!” He scrunched his nose up. “Y/N? Ew!”

“You’re the one who suggested it!” Eskel pointed at him. 

“I didn’t mean it! Shit! Have you seen Y/N! Disgusting.” Lambert shook his head, taking a bottle closer to Eskel that was empty and finished it off. “Absolutely disgust-,” Lambert cut himself off as he began to dry heave.

“Thank you for that, Lambert. But I was asking because I wanted to know if you needed help upstairs before I took Eskel to bed.”

“You’re taking me to bed?” Eskel whispered, looking over his shoulder at you. “Did Vesemir say it was okay?”

“Yes.” You answered him, smiling as you brushed your hand over his hair. 

“I do need help.” Lambert put a bottle down so hard that it broke. “Fuck.”

“I can help!” Eskel tried to stand up but you pushed him back down into the chair. Being that he was intoxicated and his balance was off, this was an easy feat. 

“No, sir. You’re staying right here.” You told him, patting his shoulder. “Stay here until I come back for you.”

He frowned and crossed his arms but said nothing. 

“Come on, Lambert.” You moved away from your witcher to go around the table to Lambert. 

He stood up and paused for a moment, rocking back and forth on his heels. His eyes widened for a moment and he brought his hand up to his mouth. 

“Are you okay?” You asked him, furrowing your brows together.

“Yeah.” He burped. “Thought I was gonna throw up for a second there.”

“That’s nice.” You put your hand on his back and guided him towards the stairs. 

He was surprisingly quiet the entire way up to his room, but that was because he was trying too hard to concentrate on not missing a step. His depth perception was not functioning at the time. 

“Okay, big guy.” You pushed the door to his room open. “Sleep tight.”

“Wait, Y/N!” He grabbed your arm before you could leave. “I just need you to know….. Eskel…. When he’s drunk, he talks nonstop about you.”

You smiled. 

“Oh, that’s sweet-,”

“No, it’s not sweet. It’s fucking gross.” Lambert shook his head, cutting you off as he moved to go into his room. “Keep that shit in the bedroom. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Okay, Lambert.” You rolled your eyes at him, pulling his door shut.

You found Eskel trying to climb the staircase himself. He held onto what remained of the banister, using it for leverage and balance. 

“Eskel! I told you to stay where you were!” You hurried to his side and ushered him away from the edge of the steps. The banister would most likely give out if he tried to use it too much or to put all of his weight on it. 

“But I wanted to surprise you in bed!”

“What if you had hurt yourself falling off the side of the staircase?” You asked him, holding on to his arm as best as you could. He was a very big man, built like a brick wall and completely made of thick muscle. It was hard to keep him steady but you did your best. 

He shrugged his broad shoulders, leaning more against the wall now for support. 

You pushed the door to your room open and helped him inside. He had his arm draped across your shoulder, using you as a balance while you both walked across the room to the bed. 

“I’ll go shut the door and then we can get your boots off and maybe change you into something more comfortable. How does-,” You yelped as Eskel suddenly wrapped his arms around you and fell on to the bed, holding you tightly. 

“Got you!” He laughed. 

“Eskel!” You giggled, writhing around a little to try to get him to loosen up on you. “Eskel, I have to change my clothes! And so do you!”

“Nu-uh.” He turned over on to his side, taking you with him. He buried his nose in your hair and then threw one leg over your hip. “This is comfy.”

“Are you sure?” You looked up at him as best as you could.

“Yeah.” He let out a heavy breath, letting himself relax as he held you close. “Love you, doll.”

“Love you more, Eskel.”

“No. I love you more.”

“Okay, love.” You chuckled softly, not wanting to fight drunk Eskel. 

He moved around so he could get one hand free and hold the side of your face. His yellow eyes were dilated. He had to blink a few times to focus on you. 

“I need you to know how much I love you.” He whispered. “I love you so, so much.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a lot.” You smiled, reaching up to brush a few pieces of his hair out of his eyes. “I told you.” 

Content with the conversation, he closed his eyes and tucked his face next to yours. 

“Good night, Eskel.” 

“Night, Y/N.”

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle@theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster@rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24 @she-wolfoftheinquisition @titaniafire

[v3nusaphr0d1t3]

i know you want it in the worst way

crossposted on ao3: <3

rating: explicit

content warning: gay ass mfs, shameless porn, uhhhh impact play

dabi gets pegged by his roommate tomura / no quirk au / trans shiggy / camboy shiggy series

tomura had made an uncomfortable situation for himself. he currently sat at the kitchen table with his roommate, intent on devouring his half of the large pizza by himself in an unreasonable amount of time. dabi was intent on doing the same. but that wasn’t what was uncomfortable. it was the fact that recently, him and dabi had been getting cozy in between streams. it was new, and very strange.

going into this, tomura was honestly just excited for the views that he would get. but the amount of attention that he was getting because of his “chemistry” with dabi was insane. dabi would sleep in tomura’s bed most nights, or they would fall asleep on the couch together. dabi would make him coffee in the morning, or bring him chips on his way back from… whatever his job was. tomura tended to not get involved, because it wasn’t his business and frankly he didn’t care.

but he had begun to enjoy dabi’s presence in his room when he played games. his viewers had seen dabi plenty, and had taken to making fun of tomura in the stream chat. those that knew who dabi was were particularly relentless. and though tomura and dabi had been living together for nearly a year now, it felt like dabi had just recently begun making himself seen. like he had wiggled his way into tomura’s life, and slowly started to figure out his habits, breaking every wall tomura had up to keep people away from him.

hell, he started doing the chores more. it just seemed like he gave more of a shit. it gave tomura butterflies and also simultaneously made him nervous. it was one thing to fuck someone, but all this gushy shit was frightening. he hadn’t really let himself feel like that in a long time. especially since transitioning. but dabi seemed to take him seriously, and more so not really give a shit what tomura did. it was refreshing.

he hadn’t even really realized he had gotten stuck in his train of thought until dabi was waving a hand in front of his face.

“hello? creep? you with us?” dabi’s sarcasm shouldn’t have been an endearing as tomura found it.

tomura raised a non-existent eyebrow. “who’s ‘us’?” he asked, looking around to further the quip.

“me n’ the ghosts, fuck you mean?”

tomura chuckled, going back to his last bite of pizza, savoring it, and standing up to throw the box away. he set it next to the trash can and moved back to the table, sitting down with a satisfied stomach and a lingering question in his mind.

ever since dabi had made him cry on stream, he had revenge on his mind. he wanted to fuck this man into incoherency. and tomura had the advantage of being able to chose his dick size.

“hey,”

“hm?” dabi looked up from where he was staring off, holding his last slice of pizza.

“can i fuck you?” tomura asked in his plain, monotone voice.

“ain’t that what you were doin’?”

“no, i mean— i wanna fuck you. like, i top.” tomura explained as he set his head in his hands, grin splitting his face.

dabi raised his eyebrows, before matching tomura’s grin. “well, i’m not gonna say no to that. just know, you gotta live up to what i put down.”

“easy.” tomura’s competitive streak made it’s appearance. “be ready by tomorrow night, we’ve got a show to put on. you know what to do right?” tomura asked.

“yes, dumbass, i know what to do.”

“ok, ok. just wanted to hear you admit that you bottom.” tomura covered his grin with his hand, standing up and taking off, promptly ending the conversation.

the next time he saw dabi, he was at tomura’s door later that evening, just watching him play his games. this was part of a strange routine that they had developed, more time spent together recently than ever. tomura looked over and him, and nodded over to his bed, silently telling him to get comfortable. dabi did, faceplanting into tomura’s disheveled sheets and listening to the clicks of the mouse and tomura’s gamer rage.

it was nice, having company like this. it was quiet but it was nice.

and eventually, when tomura’s eyes got tired from staring at the screen, or when he got bored of the same strategies over and over again, he stood up from his chair, popping both of his knees in the process, and made his way to the bed. dabi still laid there, asleep. it was a strange and soft sight that tomura enjoyed. it made him queasy to know that he slept beside this man, completely vulnerable, but he did. he didn’t really know when it started, or what they were at this point, but a warm body was a warm body. and tomura crawled in next to him, feeling the sleeping man stir, only to sling his tattooed arm over tomura and pull them together. it was nice. this was nice.

and tomura woke up before dabi like he always did. it always confused him how dabi went to bed before him and woke up after him. he guessed some people just needed more sleep. he took a cigarette from dabi’s jacket at the end of the bed, making his way to the window to sit in the window sill, feet on the fire escape, as he lit it. he liked the watch the all the people, and his lack of sleep always fueled that interest. he only heard footsteps for a moment before dabi wrapped his arms around tomura’s waist mid-inhale, making him cough and struggle.

“you shithead! i should kill you,” tomura grumbled too loud for the morning air.

“mmm, shut it.” dabi’s morning voice was lovely, and it made the morning feel warm. no more words were said, but they were felt as dabi continued to hold tomura, stealing the cigarette from him. and when it went out, dabi entwined their hands and watched the street below with him.

it was nice, this was nice.

this type of intimacy was something that tomura wasn’t used to. but the other kind, the one they were gearing up for to stream to tomura’s viewers, tomura was very used to.

the heat in his gut flared up more as the day went on, when tomura showered, when dabi went on a run for his ‘job’, and when dabi went to go take a shower, tomura went to get ready himself. he pulled out his box from under his bed, pulling out his 8 incher. he wanted to ruin dabi and this bright pink instrument of doom would seem to do the trick. he found his harness and the lube, and laid them all on his desk as he made his bed and cleaned up his room. it was consistently a disaster, he just tried to avoid the mess making its way into his camera shot. by the time most of his shit was pushed out of view of the camera, he heard the shower turn off and dabi step out of it.

tomura sat back on his bed in his boxers and hoodie, materials in sight of the camera which was on and ready for him to press the “go live” button. his door opened, and there stood dabi in his t-shirt and boxers, looking domestic but sexy as all hell. he had a fire in his eyes as he usually did before the streams. he looked at the strap on tomura’s bed and immediately, his face was red and he was shifting where he stood.

“so— we really doin’ this, huh creep?” he murmured, eyes still glued to the toy.

“i mean— you can back out if you want, i haven’t started the stream—”

“no! no, i— i- uh. i wanna.” dabi cut tomura off, already stammering over his words.

and tomura was already obsessed with the shade of red dabi was turning. the white-haired man shuffled his way over to the laptop, making sure all of his settings were in check and all of his links worked, before looking back to dabi.

“ready?” tomura asked, and dabi nodded, sitting back on the bed.

tomura started the stream, waiting a few moments for the viewers to flood in.

“hi! welcome back, you guys are in for a treat this time. it’s my turn to fuck him stupid, as revenge.”

tomura would never get over the way he acted in front of a camera. it was so freeing, which was strange. he felt more natural in front of all these strangers than he did in public. it was absurd and he adored it.

>> hellz yeah!! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

>> Peg the cissie

tomura chuckled at that one. his viewers always entertained him, whether by being inconsolably horny or genuinely funny. either way, he turned back to dabi, grin splitting his face. there was a glint of excitement in the other mans eye, and he could tell this was going to be fun.

tomura made his first move soft, moving his hands up dabi’s tattooed legs to rub his thighs, leaning in for a kiss that was softer than the ones that they had shared before. he started everything off slow, making his way between dabi’s legs as they kissed. it was a push and pull, less biting, and less aggression. though, because it was them, playful nips were a given. tomura earned a nice breathy chuckle from dabi when he moved his hand up to grip the base of dabi’s head by his hair, carding his fingers through it.

when they had to pull away for air, tomura moved on to dabi’s neck, kissing along his jaw to suck a mark onto him, high up on his neck. practically impossible to hide. tomura liked that. dabi was still surefire, breathing only slightly sped up. tomura slid his thigh in between dabi’s to give him something to work his hips on, and he did. he grinded his hips against tomura’s thigh as tomura sucked more into his skin, biting onto the junction between dabi’s neck and his shoulder, making the aforementioned man whine almost pathetically.

“oh— you sound really pretty, dabi.” tomura was always a bit insecure of his voice, whiney and craggly, but dabi seemed to enjoy the sentiment. it made tomura’s gut clench, the way dabi’s breath caught.

“why don’t we open you up, huh? can i eat you out?” tomura wouldn’t be able to spew any filth like this if the camera wasn’t on. it was the false confidence, the performance. but the words were true, dabi really was gorgeous in this moment. tomura didn’t believe how he hadn’t seen it before.

“god— yes, yeah—” dabi’s reply was deep and gutteral, leaned back on his hands as he spread his legs. tomura took to getting dabi out of his pants, pulling his boxers down himself and pulling him by his thighs to lay spread open. tomura was on his stomach, level with dabi’s crotch as he let out little puffs of breath to watch dabi arch into nothing. it was insane how responsive the man was already, and tomura hadn’t even touched him. he had to do this more often.

“jesus— get on it with, will ya’?” dabi’s tone was laced with annoyance, looking down at tomura with a blush on his face and a glint in his eye. tomura’s grin was mischievous as he moved to kiss along dabi’s inner thigh.

“that’s no way to ask for something. you know what you want. ask for it.”

and this was where dabi’s stubbornness kicked in. his lips stayed sealed as he arched against nothing. tomura sat up, moving back from dabi and looking him in the eye. tomura took to running his fingers along the inside of dabi’s legs, up his torso, to his chest, over his nipples, and back down. feather light, only enough to make goosebumps erupt all over.

tomura could tell dabi was trying really hard not to give in. not to move. to do nothing.

“beg. i know you want to.” tomura being able to get away with being a shithead was gonna go to his head if it continued to feel this good. tomura leaned in, just over dabi’s ear, and dragged his nails over dabi’s outer thighs.

“good boys know how to beg, dabi.” his voice was still that monotone, with a hint of mockery. and dabi caved.

“please. please, please please—”

“better than that, i know you’re smarter than that, pretty boy.”

“i need you, tomura, give it to me, give me something, please—”

having dabi like this without even touching him was definitely getting to tomura’s head. but dabi had done good, so tomura moved down and licked a stripe over dabi’s hole. he heard him gasp, so without letting the other man get his bearings, he immediately began his assault, circling his rim with his tongue and running it up and over his taint to swirl the tip of his cock. he moved back down to push his tongue in with little flick, opening him up slightly with the glide of the wet muscle.

above him, dabi was trying to hold in his whimpers and moans, moving one of his hands to muffle himself before tomura, without discontinuing his attention to dabi’s hole, grabbed his arm and shoved it back to the bed. dabi’s next groan was fully exposed to the camera and was like music to tomura’s ears.

tomura knew dabi had a thing for the camera. he knew it from the second dabi asked to join him. so tomura made dabi the star this time. and by god was he doing it well. tomura pulled back and wiped his mouth with his hoodie sleeve.

“you sound really good,” tomura murmured, finally grabbing the lube and hearing dabi sigh in relief with the pop of the cap. he was rock hard and practically leaking against his stomach.

tomura poured some out on his fingers, trying to warm it in his hand but apparently failing if dabi’s hiss was any indication of temperature. he rubbed his fingertips along dabi’s hole, hearing dabi’s breathy whines speed up.

“what did we learn last time?” tomura asked leisurely, looking dabi right in his hazy eyes. he continued his ministrations, teasing but never fulfilling, just never enough to satisfy. he wanted to drive dabi insane, and patience was key. he wanted this boy to beg and pant for the camera, to scream out for him. he wanted dabi to fall apart like putty in his hands, and all he had to do was wait.

but he wouldn’t. yet again, he was denying tomura his sweet, wrecked words yet again. tomura wouldn’t have that. he removed his fingers from where they were running light little circles against dabi’s hole and used his non-lubed hand to run his fingers lightly across dabi’s inner thighs again. dabi groaned in frustration and dropped onto his elbows, giving tomura a death stare like no other. the fire in his eyes was bright, and tomura wanted to dive in and burn. he gave a lazy smirk as he dipped his hand into the crease between the other man’s thigh and his pelvis, running his finger down and avoiding the spot where dabi wanted him the most.

“fuck off,” dabi moaned these words despite their meaning, and tomura could tell that they were not meant to be taken literally.

“you’re such a mess already, and i haven’t even fucked you. come on, say what you gotta say. be good, for once.” tomura was spouting off, dripping wet in his boxers as he leaned in over dabi.

“make me, creep. make me, if you want it so fuckin’ bad.” dabi’s tone betrayed how fond he was of the situation he was in, though still whiny as all hell. tomura almost didn’t want to give him what he was so obviously baiting for. still, tomura would never pass an opportunity to whip the other man into shape.

he wasn’t the strongest, but dabi was in such a shaky state that he was able to manhandle him on his stomach with his ass up, face pressed into the pillow by virtue of tomura’s hand on the back of his head. and without hesitation, tomura laid down a smack hard enough to rattle his teeth on dabi’s ass. he saw the other man light up and he heard a groan loud enough to be loud through the pillow. tomura couldn’t imagine what the chat looked like right now. he didn’t care. they wanted authenticity, he would deliver.

tomura watched a print of his hand slowly appear on dabi’s right asscheek as dabi waggled his hips to try to entice tomura further. he decided to bite, laying another smack just as hard where his thigh met his ass, hearing a loud gasp as dabi drooled onto the pillow. and another, and another. he continued with a few more until dabi was whining into open air, little mewls and whimpers coming from where he had turned his head to the side to breathe better tomura’s hand sneaking its way into his hair and pulling occasionally.

tomura leaned over dabi, right up next to his ear, and murmured, “you wanna be a good boy now and beg for it? come on, i don’t have all day.” his fond little words combined with the stinging pain on dabi’s ass must have made the wall in his head break down.

“please, please gimme somethin’— i need it, c’mon, tomura,” dabi stretched out his lovers name like a prayer, clinging to every syllable like it would satisfy him in tomura’s absence.

either way, tomura finally spread dabi’s cheeks and slowly slid one finger in with surprising ease. he heard dabi whimper yet again, and knew he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to add a second. he did just that, working through whatever resistance the other man’s body posed him. dabi was already a puddle beneath him, little breaths driving tomura up the wall. he was about at the end of his rope here. he wasn’t a patient man, but something about dabi made him one. he couldn’t see himself spending this much time riling anyone else up, and it was strange to see this man make him so different.

he added another finger, watching with hungry eyes as his fingers were repeatedly engulfed. he curled them up against dabi’s walls and watched the man deflate. it was almost amusing.

still, he decided to finally take mercy on the poor thing and stood up to put on the harness. he heard dabi whine and turn over, hissing when his ass hit the bedsheets. tomura got his dick strapped into the harness and turned around with a half assed ‘ta-da’ gesture, smiling when dabi let out a husky little chuckle at the imagery of tomura’s bright pink strap against his black boxers.

he got up onto the bed, seeing now the product of his teasing in the way dabi leaned into his every touch. he lubed up and lined up with dabi’s hole, moving one of dabi’s legs to be on his shoulder. dabi was all limbs, so it was surprisingly easy. and for how leggy he was, he was unexpectedly flexible. tomura began to push in, making eye contact with dabi as he leaned over him, nearly folding the poor man in half as tomura laid one hand beside dabi’s head.

in this process, he had nearly all the way pushed into dabi, and the man below him was losing his mind.

“f- fuck i— i didn’ think it was that big—” dabi’s murmuring was more to himself, but the words went to tomura’s head for some reason. he was smirking as dabi tried to wiggle to get that last bit inside of him, groaning like he needed it.

“tomura, god, please,” the desperation in his voice was the straw that broke the camel’s back. tomura slammed the rest of the way in, and started a relentless pace. the impact of tomura’s clothed thighs against dabi’s raw skin was just another sensation that he could practically see the other man drowning in.

and tomura didn’t know what it was about him, his pretty eyes, his miles of tattooed skin, his long and clumsy limbs, his raspy voice and his overall demeanor, but the feelings that head built up for this man made it all the more breathtaking to watch him fall apart. and tomura couldn’t help but tell him, the camera made him more brave than he was.

“you’re pretty like this.”

“tomura, harder—”

“good boy,”

that little coo of two simple words made dabi keen, throwing his head back, long expanse of his neck exposed and just so gorgeous. tomura was going to lose it. tomura brought a hand up from dabi’s hips to his neck just to fit his hand around it. it felt dangerous, dabi so open and vulnerable for him here, opening up for tomura on film.

“you like that? you like being good for the camera? for me?”

dabi’s breathing was heavy staccato as he arched off the bed, and tomura took his over leg over his shoulder to fuck into him faster. tomura could tell he was nearing his end, hiccups of breath accentuating the way his eyes rolled back into his head at a particularly hard thrust, the drag and friction of the synthetic cock inside him too much for him to bear. he was flushed from his ears to his shoulders, a gorgeous color that tomura was currently particularly obsessed with.

“t- touch me tomura, please, i need to cum—”

“you wanna come? go on, convince me some more.”

“please, i’ll be so good tomura, give it to me, c’mon— i want it, can i? please,” he was repeating himself, so out of his own head to even produce a more intelligent answer. eventually his begging turned into these messy little moans that had tomura feening.

he sounded too pretty, and yet again tomura caved.

he swiped up some of the precum that had accumulated on dabi’s stomach (gross but effective) and started working dabi’s cock in time with his thrusts.

“cum for me, dabi, you’re allowed. you’ve been good for me, come on,” tomura coaxed the other man along as he finally reached his orgasm, spraying all over his own stomach and even managing to land some on tomura.

dabi took a while of deep breathing to finally calm down. in that time, tomura ended the stream with a warm goodbye and promise for more and went off to get tylenol, water and a rag.

wiping jizz off your fuckbuddie’s stomach wasn’t supposed to be particularly tender, but the way dabi’s eyelashes fluttered until the soft touch made tomura’s heart flutter. gross. dabi was a blushy mess, he presumed because of the other man’s prior begging and pleading for tomura’s dick.

“hey, tomu?” his words were barely above a murmur.

“hm?”

“you didn’t get off, did you?”

tomura had completely forgotten, so caught up in dabi’s pleasure and entertaining the viewers in the heat of the moment that the throbbing heat in his dick was slammed back into him at the mere mention of it.

“get yer’ ass over here,”

[beauvibaby]

go swimming? - j.benn

requested [] yes [x] no

a/n: idek what this is, but I love it bc it’s Jamie, enjoy (not proofread)

You pushed open the back door, eyebrows instantly shooting up when your co-worker gasped in relief at your presence. “Y/N, thank god, there’s a line out the front door.” Mark gasped, and you hoped out of sight line from your boss, knowing you were early and he would have you clock in right away, the downfall of being slightly above the regular hourly employees, a shift leader, really but the only difference is you wore a different shirt. “Y/N, clock in!” Your boss, Tom, called from the front line, already beginning to put an apron on and get in the kitchen, “good luck!” Mark called from his prep station, shooting you a smirk when you glanced back with a glare. You shoved your things into the office, silencing your phone and shoving it into your pocket, you clocked in, in record time before turning to the expo counter and gasping at the nearly twenty minute tickets that hadn’t even begun to be prepared. “Read it off, Y/N, come on!” Your boss snapped, you pushed the annoyance aside, knowing despite him being a manager of his own store for years, he didn’t handle stress well. You began rattling off orders, food being slide over to you left and right, you continued to quickly tray it up, turning around and placing it on the counter, shouting out the name on the order into the full dining room.

This went on for over an hour, the lunch rush continuing, but finally once it slowed down enough you went out into the dining room to help the other girls clean up. Garbage was overflowing, the soda machine was out of more than a few things, napkins were empty, ketchup spilt on the counters by children. You held in a sigh as you made your way around the dining room, plastering that work smile on your face, taking empty bins and trays from people’s tables, the only thing that made today even a little better was seeing some of the regular guests in there. You chatted with them for a while, laughing at something the older gentleman said to you, his wife chastising him for keeping you up. “It’s alright, we all need a good distraction sometimes.” You shot him a wink as you walked off, silently telling him thank you. He chuckled, going back to playfully bickering with his wife, you shook your head with a smile, hoping one day that you and Jamie would be that lucky. You made your way to the back, gasping as you and Mark rounded the corner at the same time, sending his freshly cut food flying to the floor and the dirty dishes you had in your hands smushed to the front of your shirt. “Oh, I’m sorry!” Mark rushed, scrambling to help you pick up the food and plates, “it’s fine, I’ll get it, go cut more food before-“ “Mark, I need those tomatoes!” Tom shouted, rushing to the back and freezing when he saw them on the floor. “Jesus Christ.” He snapped storming back to the front, “waiting on tomatoes.” Tom muttered to the assistant manager who was looking at him expectantly.

“Go, Mark, I’ll clean this up.” You assured him, carefully squatting to scoop up the mess. You walked over to the sink, putting the dishes into the water, gasping at how frigid it was, you scrambled to drain it and replace it with the hot soapy water. “Y/N!” Lola gasped running over to you, “code brown.” She snapped, watching as your face fell, code red meant corporate was here, code yellow meant the healthy inspector was here, but code brown, that meant they were both here. “Go, go, go!” You demanded, jumping into defensive mode, “change the Sanitizer buckets.” You demanded, knowing that would be the first thing they checked. You ran over to the prep kitchen, “code brown!” You snapped, everyone went into a panic, scrambling to make sure everything was purposefully to code. “Nose goes!” Mark shouted, his finger shooting to the tip of his nose, everyone followed suit before you could even process it. “Fuck.” You muttered, going to find Tom. “Health inspector, and corporate just pulled up.” You mumbled, and he froze, muttering under his breath, he turned to give you a list of things to check. “You need to change your shirt.” He snapped, only then did you realize it was covered in smeared sauce from the dishes, “and then the normal routine!” He called into the kitchen as you ran towards the back door, you nodded, thankful for your decision to keep an extra shirt in your car for work.

Once you scrambled to change in the bathroom. You came out and were greeted by even more of a disaster, the health inspector shaking his head at Tom, along with Tom’s boss from corporate, Adam. Tom shot you a look and instantly you knew you’d be getting an earful from him once they left. The labels in the walk in freezer had timed out, and that was one of the things on your list. You shot them a smile, playing coy as you rushed towards the dining room, at least going to make sure everything up there was maintained properly.

***

“Y/N, office now.” Tom snapped, storming into the office, paperwork from the health inspector in hand, everyone shot you a look as they knew you were going to get ripped to shreds, as if it’s your fault that his employees don’t follow the rules. “I did my best, ok? Keep that in mind.” You grumbled daringly when the door shut, “I know.” He snapped, “we barely passed!” He slapped the paper down in front of you. You picked it up, and looked at the inspection, you scoffed, “these are all your problems, these are all kitchen markings, the dining room and cash registers were good!” You exclaimed, placing the paper back down. He looked at you, eyes ablaze, “don’t talk to me like that, Y/N, you’re pushing your luck.” He demanded and it pushed you over the edge, “no, I don’t think I am, I’m overworked and underpaid, you treat me more like a manager than your actual managers! So unless you want to pay me what I deserve, I think I might have to start looking for another job.” You crossed your arms, staring him down. “So are you saying you want me to put an ad out for a shift leader?” He retorted, sitting on his chair, making you feel belittled even though you were still standing. “If you don’t want to give me a raise like you should’ve done when I started wearing this special shirt, then yes, you should put an ad out.” You demanded, grabbing your purse, “would you look at that, my shift is over.” You scoffed, opening the door, “Y/N!” Tom stuck his head out of the doorway. You froze as your time card printed out, glancing over your shoulder at him as he spoke, everyone’s eyes ongoing between the two of you. “Be prepared to train your replacement.” His voice had venom dripping from it, and Lola gasped, nearly dropping the food she had in her hands, Mark shot daggers into the back of Tom’s skull. Everyone was shocked, to say the least, you’d been through so much here, you’d been here since the restaurant opened, people in corporate knew you by your first name alone, they wanted to use you in nationwide training videos. “Fine.” You hissed, pulling your composure together long enough to calmly walk to your car, but the second you shut your car door, you lost it, the weight of what has just happened hitting you. You pulled your phone out, dialing Jamie’s number before pulling out of your parking spot. “Hi, baby, heading home now?” He answered cheerfully, oblivious to how your voice was about to come out as a cry. “Jamie?” You whispered, “I think I just quit.” Your voice broke, you heard him sigh softly, “it’s alright, Y/N, don’t cry, please.” He mumbled, “drive safe, please, I’ll be here waiting for you.” He added, knowing you couldn’t speak about it while driving, he knew you, and he knew that you’d be too emotional. “Ok.” You whimpered.

***

The front door opened the second you parked your car in the driveway, Jamie had a soft, comforting smile on his face, arms opening when you climbed out of the car. “Hey.” Jamie spoke, frowning when you pouted up at him, “I hated that job, why am I so emotional?” You questioned, suddenly feeling stupid for the way you were reacting, and feeling like this only showed Jamie more of your age gap. “Because, that’s been your only job, baby, you’ve been there for years.” He brushed your stray hair back, “just because your boss was a prick, doesn’t make it any easier to leave, you made friends there, they’re family to you.” He explained, making sure you absorbed his words, you looked up at him, eyes wide, slightly teary, but mostly just nodding along with him. “Yeah.” You mumbled, “Wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, pulling you in for a quick kiss, before guiding you inside, you went on to explain everything to him, watching the way he clenched his jaw a little tighter when he listened to you tell him about the way Tom treated you. He never liked him, the first time Jamie met you, not shockingly at your job, he walked in with Tyler and a freshly drafted Miro, they all gave an odd glance as you walked back to the cash register, your boss angrily going to work on the expo counter.

“Hi, my name is Y/N, I’ll be taking your order, what can I get started for you today?” You spoke the rehearsed line, looking up you met Jamie’s eyes first, and that’s all it took, you were a grinning fool the rest of the day, your co workers teasing you all day, making fun of the blush that had stayed on your cheeks. When you went over to grab the stuff from their table, you were more than shocked to have the cute guy, who’s name you had finally learned was Jamie, had left his number on a napkin, his hand writing sloppily saying “please make sure Y/N gets this”

“I’m sorry, but you know what this means?” He questioned, voice raising a bit in excitement, you looked up from your spot on the couch, your head lazily resting in his lap while you spoke, “what?” You questioned, confusion covering your face. “You get to stay home with me while you look for a job, a job that you’ll love.” He spoke happily, fingers tracing your jaw. “That’s true.” You pondered, you would have the ability to find a job you really loved, you had money saved, you and Jamie lived together, it would be nice. “There’s that smile.” He hummed happily, you hadn’t even realized you’d begun beaming until he spoke up. “Thank you.” You whispered, sitting up to kiss him, laughing against his lips when he held you there. He finally released you, helping you sit up properly. “You are the best thing that came out of that job.” You spoke with one hundred percent certainty, moving to straddle his lap, he grinned childishly at your words, brown eyes showing his happiness. “Really?” He questioned, “Jamie, of course.” You giggled, cupping his bearded jaw, “that hell hole gave me my forever.” You told him cheesily, watching as he processed your words, his head falling back in laughter.

“Way to ruin the moment.” You scoffed teasingly, climbing off of his lap, “no, baby!” He whined, reaching for you, “it was sweet.” He added, gasping in fake shock when you stepped out of his reach again, you loved the moments like this, when you both just forgot about life and just had these fun childlike moments. “You know you can’t outrun me, right?” Jamie raised his brows, seeing the way you kept glancing at the hallway out of the living room. “Doesn’t mean I won’t try.” You teased, setting your phone on the coffee table, as well as taking your belt off from work that was suffocating you. “Five second head start, because I’ve had a bad day.” You pouted down at him, tilting your head just the right way to make your hair fall over your shoulder, you knew it always killed him when you did that, and you could tell by the look in his eyes that his mind was already wandering elsewhere. “Five seconds, that’s it.” He mumbled, arms grabbing the back of your thighs, you leaned down and gave him a quick teasing kiss, “that’s not fair.” He groaned, chasing your lips when you pulled away. “Sorry, bub, I never said I played fair, and I happen to think you like it a bit more this way.” You smirked, stepping out of his hold. He pouted at you, looking absolutely ridiculous with a pout surrounded by his bushy beard. “Love you!” You shouted, laughing as you took off down the hall, hearing him counting down, you grinned as you heard his feet rushing up behind you. “No!” You shrieked, laughing hysterically when he grabbed you from behind, easily swinging you around as he swayed over to the bed.

“Told you.” He mumbled against your neck, chastely kissing you there, dropping you onto the bed, laughing when you gasped face falling into the mattress. He flipped you over, hovering over you, admiring the way your eyes shined as you looked up at him. “What?” You whispered, blushing under his gaze, “nothing, you’re just so cute.” He complimented, “and pretty, and smart, and funny.” He added, watching the way you sheepishly looked away. “Don’t hide from me.” He chastised, tilting you back by your chin. “Stop making me blush.” You whined, wrapping your arms around his neck, “never.” He grinned, allowing you to pull him down for a kiss. Before it could get too heated you pushed him off softly, “want to go swimming?” You asked, smiling softly, it was a scorcher out today, and the thought of getting into the pool and floating around with Jamie sounded relaxing. “Mhm, but doesn’t it sound better to stay up here, in bed.” He tried to persuade you, but you didn’t budge, “please, baby.” You mumbled, knowing he would give in from the way you were looking up at him. “Fine.” He grumbled, rolling off of you, watching as you stood up, tossing your shirt off over your head, “well that’s just rude.” He sat up in record time, smiling as you winked at him over your shoulder, mischief dancing in your eyes. You giggled to yourself, as you changed in the closet, not that it mattered, Jamie peeked his head in, smirking when you looked over as you slipped the straps of your bathing suit onto your shoulders. “You’re a perv.” You teased, approaching him, seeing he’d already slipped into his swim trunks, tattoos on full display.

“Only for you.” He winked, following you down the stairs, and out towards the pool. He immediately got into the water, splashing you teasingly as you walked in slowly, hair tied in a messy bun on the top of your head. “Sometime today, baby, you’re really testing my patience.” He groaned, floating around in the water as he watched you slowly sink into the water, your body covered by the black one piece, cut outs adorning your sides. “Aw, poor boy.” You quipped, swimming over to him, arms circling around his shoulders, his resting in your hips, “yeah, you should really take pity on me, my girlfriend is being a huge tease today.” He mumbled, hiding his face in your neck, leaving some sloppy kisses, “oh is she?” You mumbled, smirking against his shoulder as you rested your head against him, soaking up this one on one time, he squeezed your sides. “Doesn’t take much to get you going.” You commented, smiling when he laughed softly, floating around in the water, your legs wrapped around his waist. “How could it when I’ve got this beautiful girl hanging off of me?” He retorted, holding under your thighs, letting you lean back in his hold, “such a sweet talker.” You giggled, smiling wholeheartedly at him, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Not really.” He tilted his head, smiling at you, splashing some water onto your shoulders as they already started turning pink under the sun. “I like it.” You shrugged, knowing sometimes he wondered if he treated you the way you wanted to be treated. “Hey, don’t get all shy on me now.” You mumbled, catching his lips, “you’re my flirty man, but you know when I’m not in the mood, and you drop it, and you let me cry on you, and you go swimming with me even though I was just teasing you. You take me to your games, you give the best hugs, and you love my family as much as your own.” You rambled, stopping when a grin etched onto his face. “Alright, alright, I get it, I love you.” He murmured, kissing you softly again, but this time you let it progress. “I love you too, now let’s get out of this pool, you’ve been patient enough.” “Thank god.”

Taglist: @softstarkey​ @kempe​ @wtfkie​ @mtkachuk​ @literarycharleton​

[bosspigeon]

a permanent solution to a temporary insanity

Pairing: Mason/m!Detective, with a side of Adam/Nate (implied)

Words:  5257

Summary: Unit Bravo discover the detective has... a lot more tattoos than they would have guessed. Felix is delighted. Mason is intrigued. Nate and Adam are just worried this is going to cause issues with Rebecca, somehow. Tina and Verda become chaotic disasters when they’ve had some alcohol in them.

Takes place at the beginning of Book 2. Title taken from a quote my granddad likes to use whenever he wants me to know he disapproves of my tattoos.

AO3 Link | Ko-Fi <3

"Get your foot off the table, you fucking barbarian!"

Mason can hear the voice of the detective's coworkers from across the bar, but even if he couldn't, Chase's scent is easy enough to track. The muted bite of coffee, the sharpness of pine tempered with clary sage. The cooled sweat of a long day, and, just barely perceptible, the intoxicating undercurrent of his blood.

Mason's awareness narrows down to that stimulus, and he weaves his way through the meager crowd. He is only vaguely cognizant of his unit following behind him, so focused on finding--

He hears a laugh, low and husky, a bit of a scuffle, and he finds the detective sitting at a table with the pathologist, Verda, and the Bobblehe-- Officer Poname.

Chase's back is to him, and he’s sitting in a chair at the end of a table squished into a corner. Verda and Poname are opposite him in a booth against the wall, laughing, while Poname tries in vain to wrestle Chase's scuffed combat boot off the edge of the table. The smell of alcohol is strong between the three of them, but that is not what makes Mason stop dead.

Chase's leather jacket is draped over the back of his chair, and underneath, what Mason always thought was a full turtleneck sweater is actually completely sleeveless. The detective's arms are bare, save for intricate swirls and clusters of ink, mostly black, but with some pops of color here and there. Some of it is flowers, some words, a few bones and animal skulls. Abstract shapes and lines, a few sharp little designs, from shoulder to knuckles on both arms-- and Mason suddenly realizes Chase always seemed to be wearing supple leather palm gloves that matched his jacket, or, when it was colder, cozy wool fingerless gloves so he could still use his phone without trouble. Not tonight, though. Tonight his hands are bare, his arms are bare, and the ribbed shirt he’s wearing is clinging to him and really showing off the stout strength of his torso.

Mason grunts as Felix runs into his back, and time seems to pick back up to normal speed while his companion loudly complains.

Chase's head turns upon hearing the familiar voice, and Mason gathers his wits and offers a smirk and a carefully relaxed wave, sauntering up alongside the man, who raises a glass full of some dark mixed drink to him.

"There’s nothing we can do until we’ve got more information about our case, so I'm off tomorrow-- ask Rebecca," he informs Adam, who is looking disapprovingly between the detective's lax, sprawled posture and the half-empty glass held loosely in one hand, "so I don't want to hear you bitching about what I'm doing."

Adam's mouth pinches, Nate chuckles and tries to stifle it, and Mason coughs out a ragged laugh. But all that is lost to Felix shoving his way bodily around Mason to grab Chase's wrist (thankfully the one without the drink) and shout, "You've got so many tattoos!"

Chase gives Felix a lazy once-over, his brow quirked. "Yeah? And?" He looks a little bemused, as if he can’t quite figure out how this came as such as a surprise to any of them, much less a busybody like Felix. He obviously can’t say it in front of his coworkers, but Mason remembers Chase’s time with Murphy. The hospital gown and the needles and bandages. But even though they could all see in the dark just fine, there was a bit too much going on to really notice more than some smudges of dark ink on his neck and arms.

He thinks their minds might be going to the same place, for a moment, because Chase’s mouth twists from a lazy smile to a grim frown, dark, serious brows scrunching. It’s a slight gesture, barely noticeable, but he jerks his head once, as if to shake off the memories.

They’re both, thankfully, distracted by Felix whirling around to point accusingly at Mason. "Did you know he had this many?"

"If I did, would I tell you?" he sneers. Felix pouts mightily, but then pauses, and smiles. A slow, creeping smile, his eyes narrowed smugly.

"If you did know, you'd have been telling everyone you saw what the detective's got under his clothes any chance you got," he taunts. "So you must not have!"

Nate can't quite stifle his laugh this time, and Mason shoots him a dirty look.

Chase chuckles, low and smoky, and brings the glass to his lips again. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of tattoos. Almost more than bare skin by this point, I think?” He looks to Verda and Poname as if to confirm, though with an odd little smirk that makes Poname giggle helplessly and Verda roll his eyes.

“Verda would know best,” Poname teases. “How much of Chase have you seen?”

“Enough to know that, yes, the un-inked real estate is scant at best.” He takes a demure sip of his drink while Poname cackles.

“My boss fucking hates it,” Chase snorts into his glass, gesturing vaguely with the free hand he’s rescued from Felix for Unit Bravo to sit. He finally removes his boot from the edge of the table (which makes Poname throw her hands in the air) and uses it to push the chair next to him out, dark eyes flickering up to meet Mason’s for a fraction of a second, stoking a low sort of heat in his belly. He takes the offered seat before Felix can (to some very vocal complaining) and lounges back, angling the chair so he’s able to watch the detective without making it too obvious.

Nate slides into the booth next to Poname, who immediately turns her gaze almost reverently to him, and Adam sits stiffly alongside him, giving the both of them an unreadable look. Felix posts up alongside Verda, smiling with annoying cheerfulness across the table at Chase and Mason.

“If your boss hates them so much, how’d you get the job?” he chirps, still marvelling at all the inked skin on shameless display. It makes Mason feel a bit twitchy, and he swallows down the urge to bare his teeth at his teammate with two very ignorant human witnesses in front of him. He distracts himself by subtly eyeing a splash of color on Chase’s solid shoulder in the form of a wrought-iron lantern with a single guttering candle inside, wreathed in wilted and dying flowers that trails shed petals and leaves down his bicep to mingle with other patterns.

“Mum’s got connections,” Chase drawls, swirling his glass and impressively feigning nonchalance. The ice cubes inside clink softly. “As you all know.”

The quiet that follows is damning, and Chase breaks it by tossing back another gulp of his drink. This close, with his senses full of the detective’s overwhelming… everything, Mason can tell it’s rum and Coke-- rather heavy on the rum.

Nate is the first to speak, offering a politely neutral, “You told us you were given a choice between the police academy or prison.” His tone lacks any judgement, but his brows are furrowed just a bit. Beside him, Adam’s expression is carefully blank. Good for both of them, because even clearly, comfortably tipsy and oddly candid, Chase’s gaze is sharp and analytical, his shoulders just this side of too tight.

“Yeah, well,” he goes on, staring past Nate more than at him, “Rebecca’s influence goes a long way, I learned. So after I graduated from uni-- top of my fuckin’ class, thank you--  I went off on a bit of a wild tear, you know, acquiring cars under mysterious circumstances,” Poname sputters into her drink and laughs, and Chase just gives her a dry look before she regains herself enough for him to continue, “and selling them for scrap, I miraculously didn’t wind up going to straight to prison, thanks to Rebecca pulling some strings and dragging me back here by my ear.” His lip curls faintly, and there’s a flash of something in his expression that seems to drop the temperature in the bar by a few degrees. Felix meets Mason’s eye and visibly shudders.

“That doesn’t really explain the tattoos,” Mason says, offering an easy segue to something… else.

“Sort of does,” Chase says with a shrug, eyes heavy-lidded. “I had a pretty wild childhood up to that point. Got my first stick-and-poke when I was, what? Thirteen? I think the kid who gave it to me is working at the bank now.” He snorts. “My point is, it was the one thing about my life I ever got to control. I had to be perfect, but so long as I did well in my academic pursuits and set myself on exactly the path my mother wanted for me, in my free time I could do whatever the fuck I wanted.” He rolls his shoulders again and knocks back the last of his drink, setting the glass down just a little too hard on the sticky tabletop.

“I drank, I partied, I fucked around. What else do you do when you’re a kid with no parental influence in your life save for a picture on the mantel of an empty house? You go off the fucking wall is what you fuckin’ do. Anything for even a shred of attention. And I still managed to graduate with honors, right? First in my class in secondary school, and in uni. Didn’t matter, did it?” His face goes hard, brows furrowing. “She didn’t bother to congratulate me in person. I got a card on her office stationery that I doubt she even wrote herself. My graduation from uni she didn’t even respond to the invite I sent, but I still stupidly hoped she’d show. She didn’t care until I snapped and she actually had to step in. Take a break from her job and come collect her errant brat.” He scoffs, and it sounds like a gunshot in the sudden silence that follows.

Nate looks like he wants to say something, mouth opening, but Adam touches his wrist and it snaps closed. Even Felix is stunned silent. Verda and Poname just exchange twin looks of familiar distress, but before anyone can say anything, Chase stands up so suddenly his chair shrieks across the floor. Mason, Nate, Adam, and Felix all wince at the sound.

“I’m going to get another drink,” the detective mutters, stalking off into the crowd. Mason looks over his companions, eyebrows raised, decides he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation, and gets up to follow.

Chase is leaning against the bar, asking the bartender for “something stronger than a rum and Coke, holy fuck,” and doesn’t even look up when Mason moves to stand beside him.

“I get moody when I get drunk,” he says by way of greeting.

“So you’re always drunk, then?" Mason drawls. "Not very professional of you, Detective." 

Chase snorts and turns to look at him, but he doesn’t say anything-- just closes his eyes and rubs his hand over the rough fuzz of his shaved head. Mason’s gaze is drawn to his hand, and he spots a ouija planchette inked into one knuckle, a pentacle on the next, then an eye, and a crescent moon. They look old, faded and a bit blown out. When Chase opens his eyes again, the bartender has given him another drink, and from the smell, it’s a highball with a hefty pour of whiskey. He takes his first sip almost gratefully.

“Those the stick-and-pokes you mentioned?” Mason asks.

Chase holds up  his hand. “Hm? Oh, yeah, a couple of ‘em. Not the first ones.” He turns his hand palm-up, and gestures with the glass. “There on the wrist.” Along the inside of his forearm is an intricate dagger with thorns twisted along the blade, but a few centimeters below the point, there is a tiny, blurry skull with a black forked tongue. “Toby Doherty, year 8. We put together a tattoo gun in his dad’s garage by pulling apart his little brother’s RC car. Think we got into more trouble for that than the tattoo.” He huffs out a rough little laugh. “I just think his mum was too nervous to actually shout at me, but I was never allowed back to their house afterwards because I was a bad influence.”

Mason reaches out and takes his hand, pulling it a bit closer so he can study the skull more closely. That’s what he tells himself, anyway, though he doesn’t think he’s fooled, and he doesn’t think the detective would be either. Especially when he rubs his thumb over the raised lines. He can feel Chase’s pulse through his thin skin, blood pumping hot and steady. This close, his pine-and-sage scent is stronger, and it fills Mason’s chest. "It's cute," he says, little more than a breath between them. He leans in, pulls the detective's wrist close to his mouth. He can feel the heat of his skin, almost taste the warmth just beneath, and Chase's breath is soft and quick and deafening in his ears.

“Chase!”

He drops the hand as if burned, and looks away from the detective before he can see how he reacts. Poname is toddling up to them, swaying a bit, and she wiggles her way between them to toss her arms around Chase's middle. He raises his highball in the air to keep her from spilling it, and she giggles.

"Chase, come back, you've got to show them!"

He groans. "Show them what?"

She only giggles louder and starts pulling him back towards the group, using the much steadier detective as a bit of a crutch to keep from stumbling through the milling crowd. When they arrive back at the table, things aren't really more comfortable than when they'd left, but they're not less so either, which Mason supposes is more than they could ask for. He takes up his seat again, but when Chase moves to do the same, Poname keeps hold of his arm.

"Wait, wait, you should be standing up for this," she giggles. Verda doesn't say anything, but he does snicker quietly into his tall glass of something that smells cloyingly of fruit syrup and sweetened vodka.

"Tina, what are you on about?" he sighs indulgently.

"You have to show them King Kitty!"

Mason’s interest is immediately piqued. Felix’s is too, clearly. He sits bolt upright and leans forward with that bright-eyed little imp grin he likes to give his teammates whenever he’s teasing them about… well, anything, really. “King Kitty?” he asks with eyes sparkling.

Chase groans, sets his drink on the table, and pushes Poname away, sending her stumbling into the table while she laughs brightly. “Don’t call it that, Tina. Christ.”

“You have to show them! He’s so good!” she insists, swaying towards him again. He dodges, and damn near skitters around the table to press into Verda’s space, which would have given Poname the means to corner him if she could figure out how to move around Chase’s abandoned chair as well as Mason (side-eyeing her cautiously) without getting tangled or falling over entirely. Verda continues to laugh at their antics, pushing Chase’s hip as it crowds into his space and threatens to make him spill his drink.

“Come on, now, what could it hurt?” he chides playfully, slipping his finger into the belt loop of the detective’s cargo pants and tugging playfully.

“Hey!” Chase barks, shifting away. All that manages to accomplish is tugging down his waistband the slightest bit, exposing the edge of his black underwear and a thin sliver of skin-- inked with designs Mason can’t properly parse, though he can’t help but lean forward a bit for a closer look. “I’ll have both of your asses for harassment, don’t test me!”

“Chase, our precinct is tiny,” Verda hiccups, finally making the decision (though it clearly pains him) to set his drink aside, since it seems Chase is perfectly willing to clamber over him to escape Poname’s grabbing hands, “I’m the HR department. You haven’t got a case here.”

“Show theeeeem,” Poname whines, putting one hand on Mason’s shoulder to steady herself. A low growl rumbles in his chest, but one sharp look from Nate (who is trying very hard not to smile at the scene, while Felix is outright giggling, and Adam simply looks confused and uncomfortable) quiets him. She smells strongly like some sort of bubblegum perfume that tickles the back of his tongue and leaves it feeling itchy and thick.

“I still have to work with them,” Chase protests, but his resolve is visibly wavering, especially with the lack of options to escape.

“We won’t tell anyone!” Felix blurts, leaning across the table. “Promise!”

Mason doesn’t chime in, but it’s a near thing. The last few weeks he’s tested the limits of both Adam and Nate’s patience with his innuendos about the detective, and he even thinks Agent Kingston might be one lewd joke from stabbing him with a fountain pen.

But Chase is weakening, he can tell. Mostly because he can’t seem to figure out how to climb over Verda, and Poname’s hands have found his belt. “Fine! Fuck, fine, you menace!” he exclaims, pushing her off with a surprising amount of gentleness, considering his tone. “Just get off me!”

Poname backs off obediently, but she’s still giggling up a storm, flushed with the effort, her hair a bit mussed. Verda looks entirely unbothered, and he takes up his drink again with a smug smile. Chase returns to his chair but doesn’t sit, and Poname returns to cozying up to Nate and being entirely oblivious to Adam trying very hard not to look annoyed.

Chase takes a deep, bolstering breath, snatches up his drink, and downs about half in one swig. “You’ve all got to swear you won’t breathe a word to Rebecca about this,” he says with grave, if faintly slurred, severity.

“Oh, absolutely,” Mason agrees, quickly enough that Felix shoots him another infuriating smirk.

“Scout’s honor!” Felix blurts, nearly bouncing in his seat.

Nate smiles and nods, looking for all the world like he’s simply indulging the shenanigans, but he’s clearly curious himself. Chase isn’t terribly secretive about most things-- he’s actually pretty fucking blunt-- so this has to be… interesting, for him to put up such a fight. Adam looks like he’s bolstering himself to look away as quickly as possible so he can have some plausible deniability should Agent Kingston find out regardless.

Chase’s hands go to his belt, and Mason’s stomach clenches, heat rushing under his skin. The detective unbuckles with practiced ease, flicks the snap open, and tugs the edge of his cargo trousers and briefs (are they briefs? Mason would certainly like to find out) down just a bit. His other hand goes to his fitted shirt, tugging it up.

The hair beneath his navel is thick and dark, and the trail leading down into his trousers is very, very inviting, but Mason’s attention is drawn inexorably to the design inked into the soft, brown skin. He supposes he should have expected the name “King Kitty” to give it away, but he couldn’t have predicted what he was in for.

It’s a snarling black cat, cartoonishly stylized, wearing a jauntily cocked royal crown. Underneath, spanning from hipbone to hipbone, are the words “BOW DOWN” written in bold, jagged script.

“Everyone, meet King Kitty,” Poname proclaims with a sloppy, grand gesture to Chase’s pelvis.

“Yeah, yeah, are you happy now?” Chase groans, hiking his waistband back up and buckling his belt. He tugs his shirt down and flops into the chair, taking another slog of his drink. It’s almost gone already, and he’s sure to be feeling it soon.

“Absolutely tickled,” Verda says primly.

“Oh, completely,” Poname chimes in.

“Wouldn’t mind seeing him again,” Mason rumbles, and Chase’s eyes flick to him for a split second, dark and sparking, brows quirked. Nate sighs audibly.

“Well, are you going to tell the story too?” Verda presses. “Share with the class?”

Chase drops into his chair and kicks his feet up again, and Poname makes a vague sound of protest. This time, at least, a sharp glare shuts her up. “Might as fuckin’ well, right?” he snorts. “So, I had this ex in college--”

Both Verda and Poname make strange noises, and when Mason spares them a glance (still a bit caught up in eyeballing the detective’s lounging about like a lazy cat-- which is oddly appropriate, all things considered) they are both looking somewhere between annoyed and downright angry. Chase actually looks… guilty, for a split second, before he waves it away and continues.

“Anyway. He wasn’t, uh… Very good in bed. But I loved him or some nonsense,” he scoffs and gestures vaguely with his glass, “so I put up with it. Because I couldn’t tell him he hadn’t gotten me off to his face, right? He was a sex god, according to him, always hit the marks,” he takes a sip and snorts a bit into his drink. Verda barks out a sharp, sudden laugh that seems to startle even him.

“He did not say that! Chase, please tell me he didn’t say that to you!” he squeaks out between ragged, uncontrollable laughter.

Poname is collapsing against Nate’s side, consumed by a fit of wheezing giggles.

Chase rubs a hand down his face and huffs out a laugh of his own. “He fucking did and I have to live with the fact that I continued to sleep with him after that, every day for the rest of my life. Point is, after a lot of general university stress, I got tired of faking orgasms to save his ego, and I finally told him he hadn’t gotten me off once since we’d started dating. Crushed him, of course, and we did break up for a bit because of it. And in the interim, I thought it’d be a good idea, to, ah, ensure that the next one wouldn’t be so… lost. I had a bit of liquid courage, lied admirably to my favorite tattoo artist when she asked if I was sober, and King Kitty was born. Then when I inevitably made the bad decision to get back with my ex, the next time we tumbled into bed, I just pointed at the instructions and told him to get to work.”

He finishes off his drink, puts his foot back on the ground with a heavy clunk, and leans his elbows on the table. “Turns out, he worked best when I was a bit mean to him. Apparently it’s a thing he wasn’t aware of. Go figure.”

“Christ, no wonder he only bothers you more when you’re a prick to him,” Verda scoffs with a hearty roll of his eyes. “You’ve trained it into him!”

"That is… quite the tale," Nate offers magnanimously, eyebrows threatening to make a break for his hairline. He looks to Adam, who is looking away and trying very hard to pretend he wasn't listening at all. Mason gets the idea he knows well enough that if he opens his mouth, what comes out is likely to piss off their dear detective.

Felix about falls over cackling, which is a fine distraction for Mason to lean in close, snagging Chase's attention and murmuring, "Wouldn't mind you bossing me around a bit," with a sly little smirk.

The look Chase gives him is dry as a fucking desert, but his eyes are crinkled at the corners. "You have proved on multiple occasions that you absolutely do mind," he fires back.

And that's what delights him about the detective, he thinks. He's sharp-tongued, and he doesn't try to dull it. Prickly, but clever, unafraid to say what's on his mind. And he's never once rebuffed Mason's advances outright, just… Spiked them back with sly smirks and raised eyebrows. Challenging, a sort of unspoken, "Oh, so you think you can handle me?"

Mason would very, very much like to handle him.

"Well, I think I'd be a lot more willing to follow orders if less clothes were involved," he slyly remarks, and Chase's dark eyes brighten just a bit.

“You have to earn that privilege, pretty boy," he murmurs, lips curling on one side.

Mason is a breath away from leaning closer, when Verda's phone goes off and he stands up, startled, and bumps the table. Mason has to snap one hand out to grab Chase's empty glass before it goes careening to the floor. Poname looks a bit astounded by his (far too fast) reflexes, but she's also more than a bit foggy with liquor and likely to forget quickly.

"Shit, sorry," Verda offers sluggishly, blinking a bit behind his smart browline spectacles. "That's Eric," he explains, grabbing his coat. He's steadier than Poname, but not by much, and he leans heavily on Chase's chair when he bends to press a kiss to his bristly scalp. "Come on, you reprobate. Time to get you home." Chase grumbles and halfheartedly swats at him, a bit of red creeping up to his ears from beneath his high collar. “You too, Tina!” Verda calls, “Leave the poor man alone, would you?"

Poname, who was beginning to list against a somewhat bemused Nate's shoulder, sits bolt upright and blinks, then pouts a bit. "Hm? Oh… okay." She pushes unsteadily to her feet, helped in no small part by a few gentle nudges from Nate, and she turns to give him a giggle and a wiggly-fingered wave before Verda’s put-upon sigh spurs her to totter towards him. Adam watches her go, making a face he likely thinks is impassive, but Mason knows well enough the tense pucker between his eyebrows and the grim tightness around his mouth.

“Remember what I said,” Chase offers, heaving to his feet with a low groan that immediately drags Mason’s attention from Adam’s silent simmering, grabbing his jacket from the chair and slinging it over his shoulders. “Not a word to Rebecca about any of this.” He gives Adam a long look in particular. “My options are limited in terms of retaliation, but I can be pretty damned creative. Don’t test me.” His eyes flicker almost instinctively to Mason, and his lips twitch, but he says nothing more before he swaggers with surprising steadiness after his coworkers.

“Bye, Detective!” Felix hollers, waving enthusiastically. Mason winces, but comforts himself with staring unabashedly at the detective’s retreating backside. The second he’s out the door, Felix rounds on Adam with a bright laugh. “Look at you! You managed to be in the same room as the Detective and you didn’t get into a fight!”

“Because he kept his mouth shut the entire time,” Mason snickers. “Looked like it was killing you not to talk shit.”

“I don’t talk shit,” Adam snaps, and Nate helpfully slides out of the booth so he can escape as well. “I just point out when the Detective is being…”

Mason raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to come up with a word that’s not an insult.

“Difficult,” is what Adam settles on, giving Nate a sidelong look.

“Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t know anything about being difficult,” Felix chimes in helpfully. Adam scowls at him and adjusts his jacket. Nate is clearly trying not to laugh and make Adam even more annoyed.

“You’re the one who felt the need to hassle the detective on his off time,” Mason hums not-so-helpfully. “Can’t blame him for being annoyed.”

“And you can’t say anything either,” Felix chirps, “Since you just went right along with it.” He’s grinning, wide and wicked, and he sways into Mason's space and gets shoved for his trouble. He totters dramatically for a second, then pops back up and snickers. "You're not as smooth as you think," he taunts. "I saw your eyes almost pop out of your skull when you saw those tattoos!"

Mason shoves him again, and Nate chuckles. "There were a lot more than I would have guessed."

"And I bet there's a lot more where we couldn't see," Felix adds, sticking his tongue between his teeth and waggling his eyebrows. Mason glances around the bar, the crowd having thinned in the last half hour or so, and decides he can get away with putting the little brat in a headlock.

Nate sighs at them. Adam rolls his eyes skyward, but they let Felix flail and squawk for a bit before Adam barks out, “Enough!” and Mason obediently releases him so he can tug his fancy scarf forcefully back into place and adjust his beanie. “Let’s just go.”

“This was nice, wasn’t it?” Nate offers with a bit of genuine cheer as they file out the door and leave the bar behind. “Getting out? Talking to people?” He nudges Adam when he doesn’t respond, and gets a faint grunt for his trouble. “Seeing the sights?”

Mason lights up the second they’re outside, inhales, and exhales a long plume of smoke, and smirks a bit around the filter. “I enjoyed the sights, at least.”

“I had fun!” Felix chirps, having already moved on from Mason’s rough treatment. “We should spend more time with the detective outside work stuff. He’s cool when he’s not all--” He makes a face, stiff and frowning with a crinkled brow, that looks pretty damned similar to the face he makes when he’s mocking their illustrious leader. Mason almost bites down on the filter of his cigarette to stifle a laugh.

“It was nice to see him unwind a bit,” Nate chuckles. “His friends seem… fun,” his mouth quirks a bit, somewhat uncomfortably, “Friendly.”

Adam makes a disgruntled noise. “Too friendly,” he mutters. Mason is about to lose the fight with himself and start snickering.

Ah, hell, he can’t resist. “I dunno, I think Natey might have a chance with the Bobblehead.” The look Adam gives him could kill a lesser man, but he just gives a lopsided grin in return. Felix, however, loses it to the point he almost falls over in the street.

Nate, ever the diplomat, just chuckles a bit and says, “Officer Poname is lovely, but she’s a bit… young for me, I think.”

 Yeah, about eight-hundred-something years too young, Mason thinks, rolling his eyes. But, unlike Felix, he’s made it a point not to get involved in the love lives of people he’s got to work with. He’s already got his hands full trying to figure out the detective. Though, he supposes, he’s got to work with the detective, too. On a more permanent basis, now, it seems. But Chase is a lot of things-- stubborn, headstrong, blunt and honest-- but he’s not the type to let a bit of fun get in the way of his job, and neither is Mason. The second they stop dancing around each other, Mason will lay it out plain for him, and if he’s not on board with a bit of fun between co-workers, then that’s it. No problems.

He takes another puff of his smoke and lets the others get ahead of him, Felix still chattering happily and Nate fielding it with his usual calm enthusiasm while Adam manages to both sulk and stalk admirably alongside them both. Their voices fade into the background, and he allows himself a private little smirk, thinking about those fierce dark eyes, that stout, compactly muscled body with its bold ink, and privately wonders how much more is hidden under the detective’s clothes, and the best way to see them all.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Omertà👄8

Warnings: noncon sexual acts; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: Okay, a little more of plot chapter which I know y’all are reading for a little less than plot, hehe, but enjoy!

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was an odd sensation. Being numb and yet entirely worn. You could feel nothing and everything at the same time. Loki was in and out of the office, your little cell behind the antique shop. 

You stared at the numbers but couldn’t read them. Your mouth tasted of bile. Your thoughts were a blur of the previous night and that morning. The humiliation seared deep inside of you.

Loki didn’t return as the clock ticked. You checked your phone time and time again. No messages, no change. You’d usually be gone by then but you lingered. You were too afraid to leave, nervous to rile the man. He had shown the depths of his depravity and you had no urge to push them lower.

When the door did finally budge, you were further frazzled by the figure who greeted you. Thor strutted in, the door ajar behind him as he neared your desk. You did your best not to cower. It was best not to encourage this man; best not to show him how terrifying he truly was. To him, that was permission.

“Well,” He tapped two fingers on your desk. “My brother has sent me to fetch you.”

“Fetch me?” You frowned and rolled your pencil across the ledger. “Where is he?”

He smirked and grabbed the pencil from beneath your fingertips. He tossed it away and closed the ledger, nearly crushed your hand as he did. He pushed the book towards you and you caught it before it could topple in your lap.

“He said to bring your numbers,” Thor smirked. “And that if you insist on wasting his time, he would be inclined to remind you of your place…” His blue eyes flitted down to your turtleneck and focused on the fabric stretched across your chest. “Again.”

You stood almost immediately, embarrassed that you were so quick to dissemble. You bent and retrieved your purse from beneath the desk and slid your phone off the desk along with the ledger. You held it to your chest and nodded at the muscular lump.

“Well,” You said sharply and swallowed your nerves. “I would be inclined to let him know if it were you wasting his time.”

“Oh ho,” He grabbed your arm and dragged you around the desk. “You are a sharp one.” He loomed over you. “I see why he would rather that mouth for better uses.”

“Get off of me,” You smacked his chest and he chuckled at what was little more than a poke to him. “I know Loki enough to know he is not one for sharing. That he made very clear, didn’t he?”

Thor squinted and you saw the flicker in his eyes, followed by resignation. He turned and hauled you through the open door, your heels scratching against the aged hardwood.

“Perhaps when he tires of you, he won’t be so selfish,” Thor snarled. “Girls like you…”

“Men like you,” You snapped as you ignored Lopez’ gaze, “All the same. Just as stupid as the next one.”

He spun you so that your back hit the shop door and he closed in on you in an instant. He grabbed your throat and pinned you to the glass. Lopez looked away and pretended to be busy with his closing duties.

“He wouldn’t mind a black-eye so much,” Thor growled. “He doesn’t need to look at your face, does he? Not when--”

“Ugh, stop,” You squirmed in his grasp. “I’ll… be quiet.”

He hesitated and let you go. He checked his watch and sighed.

“If I hadn’t already wasted so much time,” He mulled. “Come on, then.”

You turned and opened the door. He followed with a tap on your ass and pulled the door closed behind him with a jingle. He directed you down the sidewalk to the garish sports car with butterfly doors and ordered you inside. Say what you would of Loki, his simplicity was almost admirable compared to others of his ilk.

The ride was silent as you picked at the corner of the ledger and wondered, rather dreaded, what was in store for you. You were surprised, however, as Thor drew up before Diablo’s underground den. You glanced at the shadowed stairway which led down to the slatted door and back at your escort.

“What--”

He gave you a pointed look as he got out and shook his head. You struggled with the door and he came around to open it for you. As you stepped out, he seized you by the arm again and ushered you across the street, paying little heed to the cars that blared their horns at him. 

You stumbled down the stairs beside him, nearly toppling over as you were crammed in the tight space beside him. He stopped at the bottom and thumped once. The door shook against his strength and the slat opened almost immediately as rounded eyes peered out. 

The doorman barely righted himself and uttered the code word. Thor yawned his response and the door was quickly pulled back on its hinges. You were shoved through first and another man stood further along the corridor. He pushed himself away from the wall and glanced at Thor who nudge you forward.

You followed the second man and Thor growled beside you. You entered the party room, barren but for a few suited men playing at cards are fiddling with pistols. You crossed to the red door hidden around the corner where Diablo did his business and another knock was placed on its face. 

The man opened the door and beckoned you through. Thor remained without as you entered and the red door shut behind you. Loki sat in a leather chair as Diablo reclined on a matching chaise in an embroidered robe. His silver-lined hair shone in the light of glass-shaded lamps as he chewed on an unlit cigar and Loki held a snifter of scotch.

“Ah, finally,” Loki mused as he snapped his fingers at you. He pointed to a stiff back chair just a few feet from his own. 

You nodded and took the seat without question. Loki’s gaze lingered on you and his lips slanted. You knew what he was thinking of; the very thing you were trying not to think of. He returned his attention to the other man and rubbed his chin.

Diablo took the cigar from his mouth, twirled it, then inhaled its scent. He sat up and tucked it in the chest pocket of his robe. He reached to a small notebook on the low glass table between him and Loki. He tossed it into your lap and you barely caught it with the ledger resting there.

“All the info is in there, I’m certain the bookie’s daughter can figure it out,” Diablo huffed. 

Confused, you resisted the urge to peek inside the book.

“Surely she will have it looked over before we come to our final terms,” Loki waved his fingers at you. “It might take some time so I think another scotch might be in order.”

“Well, if you don’t mind,” Diablo stood and gripped his lower back. “I actually have a prior engagement for the next, oh, I don’t know, hour.” He grinned and stretched his arms. “Doesn’t take as long as it used to.” He winked a Loki who gave a slight twitch of his lips. “You have my office for the duration to look it over. I expect a decision tonight. This offer will not be repeated.”

“Of course,” Loki stood as Diablo did. “She is efficient enough.”

“Let’s hope,” Diablo narrowed his eyes at you before he headed for the door. “For both our sakes.”

He left through the red door and you looked to Loki with a confused grimace. He chuckled and searched around for the decanter of scotch and refilled his glass. He took another and doffed it towards you. You shook your head.

“Care to explain what this is?” You opened the notebook and glossed over the margins of numbers.

“A new business venture,” Loki sipped between words. “You know, I figured I’d move on from this whole Barnes debacle. A draw is better than a loss, I suppose.”

“Mhmm,” You continued to flip through the pages. “Buying a bounty is one thing, but Diablo… he likes to hide his true colours by calling my father a shill but my father only ever dealt with men like him. Men he could read.”

“Oh, but the bounty did prove to be ever so profitable,” Loki came up and gasped the back of your chair just beside your head. “You just look this over like a good little mouse.”

You stopped and let the book splay open on your lap. You looked up at him in disbelief.

“It’s a fucking casino,” You sputtered. “Are you crazy?”

“Half, well, forty-nine percent,” He said. “Diablo would retain the majority.”

“Oh, forty-nine percent of any loss is better than fifty,” You rolled your eyes. “So you would rather trade in a comfortable stability for a foolish gamble? You know, casinos rarely draw in as much money as they would suggest.”

“Atlantic city is approaching another renaissance and it’s much closer than Vegas,” Loki moved behind you and ran his fingers over your hair. “Now, you will look at those numbers and tell me what I am looking at.” He stepped around the chair entirely and strode along the leather chaise. “Forget your history books and give me the figures.”

You shook your head and lifted the notebook as you opened the ledger beneath. You flipped back to the first page and sighed. It didn’t matter how the numbers looked at that moment, a casino rarely held a pattern and never kept a promise. He should have known this or at least his natural caution should have girded him against it. Running drugs was easy enough, maintaining a gambling house was a recipe for disaster.

As you kept on, making notes of revenue you could draw from to augment possible losses and tracking those already in the books, you grew further agitated. Despite your focus, you couldn’t ignore Loki. He’d sit then stand again, get close, touch your shoulder or your back, let out a long breath as he stood over you.

When at last you’d done as much as you could, you sat straight and your back sang. Your neck was still tender from Bucky’s love bites and your muscles ached worse than before. You tried not to think of him as you closed both books and set them on the low table.

“What I can say now is that yes, there is potential in the casino, but is it worth bartering everything you have?” You said carefully. “That is a gamble on its own and the irony of that isn’t amusing enough for me to advise you to take this deal.”

Loki arched a brow and set down his empty glass.

“A likely loss?” He wondered.

“Possible loss,” You said. “And you’re right, there is a boom nearing but booms are always followed by crashes. If you were to take this deal, I would suggest you not see it as a permanent asset. Do what you can on the upswing but bail before the decline.”

“Mmm,” He pushed his bottom lip under his teeth and thought. “What is this potential?”

“Potential profit; millions.” You said evenly. “Potential loss; even more than that.”

“Ahh,” He sat and rubbed his knees. “But considering our already split income and this issue with docks, I would need some additional revenue soon.”

“True enough, and there are opportunities outside of Atlantic City,” You advised. “Hell, I would suggest the tracks before I sent you to the tables.”

“Tracks are small time,” Loki sneered. “How far did your father make it, eh?”

“He was… consistent,” You shrugged. “You asked for the numbers and my advice, and I’ve given you those. Either way, you risk a loss, even if it is only half… sorry, less than half.”

He traced a fingertip along his cheek and his face tensed as he thought.

“Thor has offered half of the buy-in,” Loki intoned. “He has a few casinos in London. He has made the best of them.”

“So you would own half of half?” You asked.

“A loan,” Loki insisted. “He is my brother and I have helped him before. As I see it, it is family business.”

“And he has consented to this loan?”

“My brother loves London,” Loki explained. “He will soon tire of being in New York because he is not the big boss. When my father handed over the business, Thor thought he won. He thought London was jewel in the crown, and I think, deep down, he knew he could never make it in New York.”

“It is your money, your business,” You said. “I just run the numbers.”

“Oh, darling,” His face softened and he grinned. “You will be doing much more than that. Atlantic City will be full of opportunities.”

You looked down and took a deep breath. You were embarrassed and angry but this was not the place. Not the time.

“Away from that jackass,” Loki stood and hooked a thumb through his belt. He reached to press two fingers beneath your chin and lifted your head. “We will have all the time in the world to rebuild the trust you broke.”

[chaoslaura]

Can this be for Willex please. Fluff 11 “I’m so proud of you.” 

If it’s ok to ask, can Alex have a bad panic attack when he’s out with Willie.

I know Alex having a panic attack has been done a few times but I always feel like once he’s gone through it, the fic just ends and I’d like to read one where Alex is really embarrassed and Willie is just so caring afterwards and really protective.

Hi hi I loved the Willex prompt you did it was so good. Can I ask for them for a prompt? Fluff 11. “I’m so proud of you” I had an idea Alex has a panic attack, it’s the first time Willie has seen it happen, Willie helps him through it and he says that to Alex

First, thanks for the kind words I’ve gotten so far.

For this prompt I have gotten two requests that were kinda similar, so I mixed them together to create one story, I hope you like it though.

Read it on AO3

Warnings: panic attack, mention of self harm (nails digging into skin)

As someone who has never experienced anxiety or panic attacks, I didn’t feel comfortable to write a full panic attack scene in case I wrote it wrong because the only things I know about it are from reading fics myself. But please feel free to talk to me if I depicted anything wrong.

In retrospect it wasn’t perfectly clear what had set it off. It wasn’t one specific event, or person, or thought, rather the whole day was just one big disaster. From the minute Alex woke up nothing was going according to plan. Which wouldn’t be catastrophic per se but on some days even a minor accident could be enough to push him over the edge, and today these accidents just kept piling on top of each other till Alex couldn’t see over the mountain.

In retrospect it wasn’t perfectly clear what had set it off. It wasn’t one specific event, or person, or thought, rather the whole day was just one big disaster. From the minute Alex woke up nothing was going according to plan. Which wouldn’t be catastrophic per se but on some days even a minor accident could be enough to push him over the edge, and today these accidents just kept piling on top of each other till Alex couldn’t see over the mountain.

When his phone had gone off with a beeping sound and vibrated on his bedside table and Alex peeled his eyes open, he was confused for a moment. Why wasn’t the sun shining in his face? Alex would always wake up with sunrays covering his bed and face from where he didn’t close the curtains the full way. Liking waking up with the bright sunlight. But this morning it was different.

Peeking at his phone he realized it wasn’t morning at all, that’s why. “8:30? Fuck!” Class would’ve already started by then and Alex was never late. Never. It was one of his fears. Having to come in while every student and every pair of eyes was aimed at him and the teacher was pinning him down with a reproving look and writing with red ink into the class book that he had been late. To Luke and Reggie, it would’ve just been another line next to their name, nothing unusual since they started high school, but to Alex punctuality was a sign of respect and a part of keeping his day together. He always knew when to be where, dragging his other two friends with him because as Julie once said he had their collective brain cell at all times.

With a hop Alex sprung out of bed into the bathroom. While hastily brushing his teeth, he wondered why his parents didn’t wake him up. Didn’t they notice his closed door or his shoes next to the front door? They were aware of Alex schedule; they must have been knowing he was running late so why on earth did they just left for work without waking him? Alex could’ve worried about it for hours but frankly he didn’t have time for thinking about his parent’s behaviour. Not since it changed drastically after they found out about Alex ‘habit’ to kiss guys. More precisely Willie. His boyfriend.

Not having time for dreaming about his perfect boyfriend either, Alex raced back into his room and searched through his wardrobe for his favourite sweater, the pink one, his friends nagged him to get, saying pink was really suiting him and it would piss of his parents for sure.

Coming up with nothing after searching through it for three times, he came to the daunting conclusion it must be in the laundry. It was his feel-good hoodie, it was comfy and soft and warm, and just gave him safety, he really needed it today. Resting his head on the closet door with more force than necessary, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And one more. Come on you can survive one day without your hoodie. Alex tried to persuade himself and quickly grabbed another Shirt to put on without putting much thought into it.

He decided to skip breakfast, school lunch wasn’t that far away, and headed out of the door after making sure he had at least all the books he needed today. He always packed his bag the evening before but who knows what he could’ve missed. Standing in the front yard of the house, for the second time today, he was confused. Shouldn’t his bike be standing there? Racking his brain and shortly fearing someone stole it, it came back to him. His brother had it today since his own was in repair. Just great. Now he had to walk. Without one of his parents taking him with them in their car, without his bike, and the school bus long gone.

It wasn’t that far, but it meant he would be even later. He at least would miss the whole first period and could walk in the next classroom like everybody else and no one would give him questioning looks. Oh no Alex groaned internally; his next class was math. Right, today was Tuesday and his second period being math with Reggie. Reggie at least had an idea of what topic they covered this week, but Alex was completely lost, and he was pretty sure Mr. Smiths hated him for his lack of knowledge. He was trying, he really did, even hiring Reggie as his tutor but it just wouldn’t stick, and now he had to suffer through it while his brain was already distracted. Hopefully Mr. Smiths wouldn’t pick him today, that’s the last thing he needed.

Taking big steps to hurry up, he arrived quicker than he anticipated. Rushing in and through the hallways he stepped into the room just as the bell rang, indicating class started. Hastily taking his seat next to Reggie, he took his book out of his bag while Reggie fixated him with a questioning look, raised eyebrow and all. ‘Where have you been?’ Reggie mouthed but Alex shook his head, he would explain later. The last thing he wanted was for Mr. Smiths to catch him talking in class and getting another mark.

Even though he was physically there now, his brain decided to race in the other direction. It worked on full speed since he had woken up and concentrating on the math problem written down before him was not achievable. But to his luck Mr. Smiths left him alone and Reggie passed him notes with the right answers to which Alex threw him a grateful smile.

Finally, after two more classes he walked with Luke to the cafeteria only to discover he forgot his money at home. His wallet must be sitting on his desk. Groaning he put his head in his hands and then carded swiftly through his hair with his fingers. He was really hungry, if his grumbling stomach wasn’t indicator enough, after skipping breakfast, but without money there were no possible means to get any food.

Luke sensed Alex distress immediately. “Alex? What is it?” Oh, yeah, Alex almost forgot Luke was beside him, having zoned out completely.

“Forgot my lunch money, tis all.” He replied defeated.

“I buy you one today and you can get me something next week. Don’t worry about it.” Luke gave Alex a pat on the back and marched on towards the doors. “Are you coming or what?” He asked over his shoulder.

Alex was so grateful in that moment but quickly followed his friend.

Sitting down on the table with their plates the others were already there. Meaning Julie, Flynn, and Willie who gave him a short peck on the mouth. “Hello, hotdog.” He greeted Alex with a bright smile Alex could only compare to the sun and a warmth spread through his body, calming him down at least a little, it was a side effect that always came while being in the presence of Willie.

Reggie and Flynn were deep into a conversation about frogs to which Alex could not contribute anything, and Julie and Luke were already discussing songs they could rehearse later the day and Alex wasn’t really in the mood to interfere with them, their energy was too high for him to match right now. Leaning against Willie’s shoulder while his boyfriend scrolled through his Instagram feed on his phone Alex couldn’t help but bounce with his leg up and down. The uncomfortable feeling from this morning still settled deep in his bones and it seemed it wouldn’t leave anytime soon, and Alex knew shaking his legs wouldn’t do anything but there was no harm to try.

A ping signalled an incoming message. Fumbling for his phone in his pockets he instantly regretted pulling it out as soon as he saw the name on the screen. It was his mum and she never messaged him if it wasn’t important and recently important messages meant reminding him to behave.

Wrestling with himself for a short minute he decided to open it and skipped over the text. He must’ve zoned out for a bit because as he came back a hand was seeking out his right one and Alex realized he was biting on the skin around his nails as he did so often unconsciously. Willie took the hand in his and laced their fingers together, giving him a small smile to say he was here. Luke who was sitting on the other side of Alex laid a hand on his shaking knee. “What has gotten you today? Are you okay?” There was always worry weaved in his voice and Alex was again reminded that today isn’t a good one.

Alex didn’t like having the attention on him and he was glad that Reggie and Flynn were still deep in their conversation, knowing it wouldn’t help if they stared at him too. He knew Julie was listening, but she at least scribbled on a piece of paper what could’ve been lyrics and didn’t openly questioned him and his behaviour. Alex knew that his body always betrayed him when he was anxious, showing the tell-tale signs when he was spiralling, and he didn’t have to say anything before one of his friends gave him the opportunity to vent.

Alex sighed deeply. “Just not a good day. And my mum wrote me. My grandparents are coming by this weekend. From my fathers’ side.” Pocketing his phone again to try to get the message out of his mind, he leaned further into Willie and found a pair of arms winding around him but giving him space to breath.

“Shit.” Luke let out. He was the only one of them who had met Alex grandparents, but they all knew how much Alex despised them. Having to put on a front whenever they came around, it was just plain exhausting, and Alex wanted to push away the reminder of their visit until the day arrived.

Alex nodded to show he shared Luke’s sentiment and began to play with the rings on Willie’s finger. Today was truly one bad thing happening after the other and he couldn’t wait till he came home and could slump down on his bed and just breath for a minute before he had to start with his homework.

He asked his English teacher if he could get any extra credits since his essay only got an 80 and his parents wouldn’t be pleased with that result but what else could he do? Hide the paper till his parents found out on their own? No, he needed a plan before he would show the note to his parents and if that meant extra work, so be it.

The end of the school day didn’t come as fast as Alex had hoped, the hours dragging by and with every look to the clock, just a few minutes had passed, and it might have been the slowest time had ever gone by. The buzzing under his skin that had started not shortly after lunch when Alex couldn’t help but overthink what could happen over the weekend didn’t help his nervousness and by the time he left the school building the skin around his nails was red and bitten down and Alex knew he shouldn’t but he had done it for so long it was hard to stop the habit.

Alex decided to walk the way home, the thought of sharing his space with other students on the school bus made his skin crawl, the fresh air should help clear out his head a little bit and he could put his nervous energy into walking. The faster the better till his calves were burning. Before he turned the first corner though, he could hear someone yelling his name behind him. Spinning around in case it was one of his friends he had to discover it was not in fact one of the boys but instead John. John, a guy with the most average name and most average face, had been on his case since he came out in school and hadn’t stopped yet no matter how often Luke threatened him with a serious ‘talking’ after school or Flynn and Julie actually talked with him while letting out their frightening personas that even made Luke and Alex take a step back.

Alex wasn’t in the mood to listen to John’s comments and hastily turned around to continue his run home. Not today. It was the last thing he needed today. With all the spiralling thoughts already spinning in his head he didn’t need another person pulling all his fears to the surface.

Closing the front door behind him Alex didn’t know when or how he arrived at home, the walk was completely erased from his mind, replaced with a static in his head and he realized once he got to his room his breathing had picked up. No no no come on; you know the breathing techniques. He told himself and tried to calm himself while he sat on the ground before his bed, his bag lazily thrown into the corner.

Alex doesn’t actually know how much time had passed until he sensed someone sitting down some distance before him. The tears in his eyes made it difficult to see the room before him clearly and he could only made out the long dark hair and colourful Shirt, trying to concentrate on the pattern.

“Alex?” Willie’s tentative voice pierced through the fog in Alex mind, but he could only nod shortly to indicate he heard him. Speaking was not yet in the realm of the possible.

Some more minutes or what felt more like hours to him, but Alex knew wasn’t the case, Willie’s figure stood more clearly in front of him and the room wasn’t spinning as much. His hands were still shaking and the tear tracks on his cheek still not dried. But it was better.

Willie settled beside him now that Alex could see him. “Hey hotdog.” Alex turned his head to the voice. “Is it okay if I touch you?” Alex gave a quick jerk with the head to say yes, not quite trusting his voice yet.

Slowly and so that Alex could see it in the corner of his eye Willie took Alex hand and opened the fist it was in and turning it around to inspect the crescents indents in the palm of his hand. Deep and red against the skin, not bleeding but he had almost pierced the skin with his nails.

“I’m sorry.” Alex voice was scratchy, and he looked to where Willie was holding him, shame flooding his body as he tried to pull back his hand and hide the dents.

But Willie didn’t let him, gently holding on to the hand and closing his own around it, his attention shifting to Alex face. With his other hand he wiped the remaining tears from the splotchy cheeks and then shifted a bit to rummage through his bag that sat behind him and brought a bottle of water to light. “Here, you need something to drink.” While Alex accepted the drink with a thanks and took a few sips, Willie’s gaze never left him, but Alex realized it was filled with the same affection Willie always looked at him with and not with annoyance or nuisance as he had feared for so long, afraid of what Willie would do or say once he saw that side of him.

Alex wanted to start apologizing again when he put down the bottle, but Willie got ahead of him, “I’m proud of you.” And that put a hold on Alex thoughts because what? “Huh?” Was all that came out of Alex mouth instead from his confusion.

“I mean it. How many times did you go through this already? Even alone? I know it’s terrifying but every time you bounce back, and I think that’s noteworthy.” Willie’s thumb was brushing over the skin on his hand and Alex was almost ready to cry again because no one ever said that to him and all he could see was a bundle of mess sitting in his place in his room, in front of his bed.

“But- but now you have seen what it looks like, how can you still want to be here?” The with me was left unsaid but Alex was sure Willie got it nonetheless.

“Alex, I don’t care how messy it gets, I’m here for you, always.”

To say Alex was grateful was an understatement but then something else came to his mind and he groaned, letting his head fall back against the bed and squeezing his eyes shut, already feeling ashamed. “I forgot our date.” Willie and he were to meet at the skatepark because Willie saw some videos and wanted to recreate some stunts he found cool.

“You didn’t forget. It’s okay, really. We have enough time to catch up.”

Before he could say anything else, they could hear the front door slamming shut and Luke calling Alex name and two pair of feet were heard stamping up the stairs. Alex looked at Willie questioningly. He was perplexed as to why Willie was here but also Reggie and Luke?

Willie looked sheepishly suddenly. “I texted them when I found you here. Sorry, it was the first time seeing you like this, and I was afraid I would do something to make it worse, so I asked them to come around.”

“It’s okay.” Honestly, Alex was a bit relived. The boys knew how to handle him. Did so for years before Alex even knew what was happening with him.

Reggie stayed in the threshold to not crowd him, meanwhile Luke sat down on the other side of Alex, taking him in and examining the situation. “Hey, how are you doing? We came as soon as we got the message, but we were shopping for Julie and Reggie stopped me from ignoring the red lights.”

“Could be better, but I’m okay.” He answered honestly, he knew Luke was always the first to worry over him. But know he was worried what other stupid things besides ignoring traffic laws the boys had done to quickly come to him all the other times before today.

Luke didn’t give him time to ponder over it. “If you good to get up we can take this to the couch.” He proposed.

“Great idea. And I doubt it was ever a better time for ice cream.” Reggie said already on his way to the kitchen.

“You just want to take the opportunity to get your hands on the deluxe stuff Mrs. Mercer always buys.” Luke half yells after him and Willie snickered from where he was still sitting next to Alex, hand clasped around him. Alex meanwhile tried to gather his remaining energy to stand up with a little bit of help from Willie.

The couch was way better than the floor in his room, definitely more comfortable and providing more space for all of them. Alex was seated between Willie’s legs and leaned into his chest, a blanket over them to keep Alex warm and he really appreciated that his boyfriend didn’t left after the whole mess he had to witness. Willie who sensed Alex shift in demeanour and could feel him tensing up against him, hooked his chin over Alex shoulder and whispered in his hear so the other two couldn’t overhear them. “I love you Alex.”

Alex cheeks turned a bit red but luckily no one commented on it, Luke and Reggie were deep into an argument about the best feel-good movie, finally resting the case on Rise of the Guardians while Luke pouted in his corner of the couch that the others weren’t willing to watch Back to the Future. Again. But with a pint of ice cream in his hand, his pout quickly dissolved into a small smile and he regularly glanced beside him to make sure Alex was doing okay.

Alex was indeed content were he was, in the arms of his boyfriend, sharing the ice cream with him, breathing in the scent that relaxed him further until his eyes were almost closing on their own accord. He always got sleepy after, all energy drained from him and he slipped further into the embrace until he fell asleep after initially only wanting to rest his eyes for a bit.

Willie noticed when his boyfriend didn’t try to steel from the ice cream anymore and put it aside in favour of carding through Alex hair, making sure he was comfortable while sleeping.

Luke and Reggie were giving him a thankful smile. “Thank you for being there for him.” Reggie spoke up with much more earnest Willie was used from him.

“I didn’t do anything. I was just nervous to make it worse for him.”

Luke put a hand on his shoulder. “You couldn’t. You did great. Alex has been in a much worse state before we found him. Just stay by his side no matter what. We’re glad he has you. With his parents and these assholes from school, he needs every support he can get even though he wouldn’t admit that so outright.”

Willie smiled to himself. The boys never gave him the stern talking when Alex and him had gotten together but he had sensed the protectiveness coming from them whenever he was around the first times, only fading away after a few months, and Willie would make sure to never get on their bad sides, not that he wanted to. If it meant to stand by Alex side with his anxiety and watch animation movies (or Back to the Future five times for Luke and Star Wars seven times for Reggie) with him and the boys while eating sweets and talking nonsense to distract Alex mind for a while, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.                                  

[katgreeves]

a case of the biggest cards (a tua holiday fic)

Cards, muffins on the way, and a slightly tired (tipsy) family that have competitive and snarky written in their bones and running in their veins. A sure fire way for total absolute mayhem on earth. Oh this is gonna be fun. Klaus can't wait."

Or: The Hargreeves make the best of their royal fucking up of the timeline and spend Christmas Eve together at last.

heyyyyyyy @a-fucking-velociraptor it’s me your secret santa for @secret-santa-klaus!! wanted to do a little sibling bonding fic for you and then I went overboard LMAOOO I hope you like it anyways and happy holidays!!! I hope you’re having the best times this season!!

it’s also on ao3 to read for your reading pleasure!! (if you have an ao3 acc by all means lemme know so I can gift it to you on there!)

Fine hands move quickly to practiced motions. Long, nimble fingers sent cards flying as they shuffled around in the deck.

The five of them were all sitting on the floor, wrapped around a worn coffee table and leaning against the sofa and armchairs around them. Assorted pillows strewn about to comfort them, they were slowly going through the 3 bottles of whatever shitty drink they had trusted Diego with getting for the night. One of them was already empty.

Since the whole Dooms-didn’t/Apoca-nope-lypse/The Sparrow Academy timeline fuckery to the highest of degrees, they were all pretty much left in the dust. After a not so great first encounter with the “Sparrows” (none of them had even begun to comprehend the big emo looking elephant in the room, let alone address it to each other) they were promptly kicked our of the Hargreeves mansion. It took a while after that, but eventually they found a flat somewhere in the city for cheap to hide out in. The place wasn’t really cozy, totally not big enough for all of them together, but it was a roof over their heads to keep them safe enough till they could figure how to bring back their own timeline and finally have this behind them once and for all.

If that even existed anymore.

Klaus leered tiredly at the movements. Had it been himself dealing with the deck, he’s sure it would not be nearly as graceful, instead the cards would probably move clumsily with his fidgety hands and scrawny fingers, spewing all over the place. Then again, it might just be the signature “Rumor Charm.” Alli made everything look elegant, it was one of her best skills, one she gained with no powers, no rumors, that she did without even trying. It was just her.

“Allison. Darling sister of mine. While this in no means to rush you at all, I just want you to know that I’ve murdered entire Commision boards in shorter amounts of time that you’re taking right now.”

That, the source of the uncannily on cue quip, was Five. The grouch wasn’t letting up his smartass act up for one bit, even for the goddamn holidays. How predictable.

“First, you’ve only killed one commision board. Second, this is a Christmas Eve party, aka fun night party, aka we are not having discussions of our more colorful histories for one night party, please-”  

“Can we actually start the game? I hear Santa hates it when he's’ trying to do his job and sneak like a ninja or whatever only to see six idiots in a small dingy, dark as shit living room bickering over cards and oh wait- they've been at this since when?”

All eyes focused on whom that voice belonged to, which was Diego. While he was working at defrosting himself of his bitter and snarky facade, it didn’t really help that he was both tired and annoyed as shit at the wait right now.

“Quite a bold accusation that Santa wants to see any of us after all the shit we’ve pulled Di.”

“Even if he did, does he even know how to find us now? You know, technically not existing anymore and all-”

“What did Allison just say guys-”

“Hey Vanny, we’re just-”

“Okay, I think it’s time we get this show on the road shall we?” Allison pointedly interrupted with, brandishing the now shuffled deck of cards to veer the group to their original intentions (She does that a lot nowadays).

“Thank goodness. At the rate that we’re going it’s only a matter of time before we become itty bitty old grannies sitting on porches in rocking chairs.” Vanya crooned, scrunching up her face at the end to emphasize her point.

“Five’s essentially a grandparent already Vanya-”

“Well, he’ll just become a jurassic fossil I gue-”

PWACK

“Five!”

“That-” he gestured to the pen in Vanya’s hand he has just whacked her in the face with (Klaus had admittedly, bursted out a sharp spark of laughter at the sight) “is what happens when you are the only one I tolerate slightly more than average and you use this weakness to lead me to a complete and utter betrayal.”

“Betrayal?”

“You know, we actually promised Luther we’d let him bake in peace this time.”

Indeed, as Allison had oh so clearly reminded them, while the others were engaging in whatever was going on right now, Luther was trying baking some red velvet muffins (“No, don’t look at me like that, this is a totally normal amount of food coloring to put in the batter. They have to be the brightest red guys! Come on, it’s Christmas!”) in the kitchen close by. He was in there a lot nowadays, essentially becoming their new Grace in terms of their meals. He claimed it was a cathartic process for him, and in return they all just enjoyed the free meals.

“Jokes on Luther if he’s dumb enough to actually belive that.”

The last comment earned an eruption of laughs all around the table, a scandalized “Vanny!” here and there. Such was expected from their Vanya, the now youngest of the group (and isn’t that wild? Their entire lives were dictated by nothing else but the fact they were quite the peculiar, unlucky septulets and time travel and fucking Dallas took even that away from them). A complete contrast from the Vanya that was so long ago, sarcasm and laughter were her now weapons of choice as she’d talk and tease non stop about anything with a grin. Honestly, good for her.

With cards now flying across the table, it was time for the real shit. The game was one that Klaus had actually taught them. It was one of the many “souvenirs” that he had brought back from Vietnam. He had learnt it, along with the rest of his squadron from one Private Darren Teow. “T” for short, although the boys called him “Croc” after an embarrassing incident where he was the main star of a disaster march across a riverbank (oh boy was that a wild day).  

His parents had come to the United States back in the early 40’s for a chance of something new, and for their son, a chance of something better, a life of his own that could be so grand.

“And what a real great life this is, isn’t it?” He had said one night, a one in a kind night where the jungles were silent of the noises that shook them all for once and instead was filled with the laughter and cheering of the squadron as days old beer was being passed around like candy. Raising his can in the air, the bitter cynicism in his voice rang clear. “Trying to save my head from blowing up to bits everyday on the floor these fucking jungles. A goddamn blast if I’ve ever seen one. Three cheers for the Land of the Fucking Free-”

It wasn’t played as much as a usual game of poker, but whenever there was a fleeting moment here and there, or nobody had any cigs left to bet after Katz snatched them all (Rule Number 15 of the 173rd: Do not let that All-American face and charm fool you. That man will have your rations in his godly chiseled arms and the palms of his hands before you can even put down a card).

Sometimes, when he and Dave were cooped up in some motel room in Saigon during leave, trying to avoid another Sky Soldier who would try and drag them along for a night on the town,  they’d decide to play it together, just the two of them. And by that it meant Dave would offer to play a round of poker, and Klaus would beg to play this instead for a “fun change of pace, you know?”

“You mean, when you don’t want to eat utter shit at the hands of your awfully gifted beloved and can’t face the fact that you can’t keep a straight face for shit?”

“Be thankful you have a god gifted jawline from Adonis himself, or else I would have busted out of this motel aeons ago.”

“What can I say if I learnt it from the best?”

“Fuck you Kitty Katz.”

“I love you too, starlight.”

“That’s it, you are disqualified for hitting me with that sappy shit. I love you too.”

He smiled, chuckling softly at the memory as his hands reached for the familiar chain of cold steel around his neck, the motion second nature at this point. God, Klaus missed that dork so much.

Teow had called the game Big Two. At the very core of it, spades’ the best, then hearts, then clubs, and last and very least: diamonds. The bigger the better. Except for two. That little fucker gets you far. Put down as many as you can at rapidfire speed. First one to finish their cards in hand is winner winner chicken dinner!

Cards, muffins on the way, and a slightly tired (tipsy) family that have competitive and snarky written in their bones and running in their veins. A sure fire way for total absolute mayhem on earth. Oh this is gonna be fun. Klaus can't wait.

He wishes Ben were here. God knows how much that little shit would be enjoying this right now.

The cards were swiftly dealt. He inspected his hand, as the others were talking about theirs. On top were the first two cards, two threes.

The game carried on as a normal one, duets of cards spilling on the table. And then, a lull as yet again his siblings had started another feud. This time, Diego was convinced Five was cheating somehow. Hell, knowing the little menace, he probably was.

Klaus must have dozed off somewhere, because it was only when a hand slammed into his shoulder that his head whipped back to the table, about to mutter a quick apology to what he expected were a circle of tired faces. Instead, he saw a cacophony of grim expressions. Something was going awry.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Klaus-”

“You know, the last time I checked, I was the Seance around here-”

“Klaus-”

Klaus mocked a gasp, dramatically placing a hand on his chest as he feigned a look of shock on his face. “No! Don’t tell me you all are putting a Lila on me-”

“Five’s on his last card!” they all exclaimed, exasperated by Klaus’ usual antics.

Oh. Well, that's where the problem quickly emerged. Shit.

“Put something! Anything! Don’t let him win!” Allison shrieked.

“How can she? He’s got some damn strong cards there!” Diego added.

They had to be pulling his leg. Already? Things had just started getting good around here. Or you know, Klaus assumes it was before he was lost in wherever the fuck his mind went. But alas, a hesitant glance at the table and indeed, on the stack of cards, were two aces. Goddamn aces. Scouring through his hand, a sigh came over the medium. Those were some goddamn miracle cards.

Again, if only Benjamin was here. Sure, after their last poker fiasco, the little shit would probably decide to just screw him over again cause he had such a fun ride the last time around. But still, it was at least better than nothi-

Wait. Eyes perked up as Klaus saw a lifeline of a card in his hand.

Aces may have been big.

But they weren’t the biggest.

And with that a couple of two’s were places on the table, and Klaus, with a calm, low tone uttered-

“Last card.”

An array of sounds could be heard. Gasps, exasperated groans and sighs echoed across the table as cards were chucked in the middle in a show of surrender. Five glared daggers, as one would at the person who caused their defeat. It didn’t really matter to the medium anymore because-

“Victory is mine, bitches.”

A scoff, then an eyeroll before Five uttered “Beginner’s luck.”

“I’m the one who told you how to play you little shit.”

“Well, then it’s just a stroke of luck then. The game’s all chance anyways.”

“You goddamn pri-”

“Could it kill you all to be a bit quieter?” Luther asks, cutting the action as he finally stepped into the room.

“Lutherino!”

“Big guy finally decided to show up huh?”

“My apologies Razor Boy, didn’t want to give you guys burnt shit now, didn’t I?” he says, placing a pile of whatever he had made on the table, which was met with an applause all around. Oh damn they looked good.

“You guys only love me for cooking, don’t you?”

“Well, now that you’ve said it-”

“Five!” With a whack on his shoulder, Allison chided the former assassin while scooting a bit into Diego, patting the empty space she’d just created for Luther to plop into.

“Think you could come in with a cute little apron, you know, really sell into the chef role you’ve set for yourself here? One with an abundance of frills, preferably.”

“No, absolutely not Klaus. Now pass me the goddamn cards to shuffle before you guys start some shit again.”

“Wow, our Numero Uno now joins in on the gambling fun? Whatever happened to our ever so righteous bro bro?

“Klaus, I worked with Jack Ruby for a year. You don’t wanna know half the things I’ve witnessed.”

And that was it. That was their breaking point. It wasn’t long before the whole room erupted into laughter and wow this is so good.

It isn’t perfect. They all struggled to fit, it was way too chilly for comfort even under assorted layers of tight knit sweaters. Their hearts still panged for what they had already lost and what they were afraid they could still lose.

But, they were all together, and they haven’t been able to say that for so long. So, they could set all those worries and lingering annoyances aside for a bit to just be. Right here, right now, enjoying the warmth and joy of each other’s presence in a way they never thought they’d be so lucky to feel.

Later that night, Klaus resolves that if ever found Teow again, he’d have to thank him.

[takethisroad]

Idk if you're still taking prompts but I'm tipsy and all my heart desires is Jack Rackham just fuckin. Feelin himself. Like he's got a great outfit on, gender expression is optional, he's just feelin beautiful and havin a good time. Bonus for any extra Anne being snarky/supportive, and bonus for VaneRackham because I'm weak for them, but truly anything goes

Listen, I am always taking prompts! Plus, I LOVE THIS. What a wonderful prompt! (I am also combining this with @snooksscribbles request for a “fashion-forward Jack moment” because do we not all love our favourite disaster pirate being at the cutting edge of the latest trends? We do.)

Also, this ficlet comes with its own meme.

Jack is a trans man in this. I am cis; any mistakes or misrepresentations are my fault alone.

Honestly, can we please all take a collective Moment to imagine - they’ve just come into port to refit and celebrate after their latest haul. Evening is falling fast as the sun sinks heavy beneath the choppy waves in the harbour, casting long blue shadows down the dusty streets of Nassau town.

It could be peaceful, if it weren’t for the raucous din coming from the brothel: drunken men, merchants and pirates alike hollering for ale and rum and whores; the jeering, bawdy laughter of onlookers at the gambling tables mixing with the tight high giggles of women pretending to be amused. Later, Jack knows, there will be fighting added to the mix; there always is, when the Ranger crew is ashore, no matter how recent the conquest at sea. Hallett will spit in Old Man Cooper’s drink, or Wilkins will crack one too many jokes about Price’s mum being a goat, and everything will devolve into fists and swords and slaughter until Jack goes down to do his duty as quartermaster, appeasing all the fragile egos and cleaning the mess up again.

But until then, he’s here. The rooms in the brothel aren’t soundproof by any means (and privately Jack thinks Max must like it that way, allowing her to keep a bead on the mood downstairs at any given time) but with the door closed and the room illuminated by the slanting rays of the sinking sun and the candles on the table, he can almost pretend. The flickering candlelight plays over the treasure trove spread across the bed. It is, if not the haul of a lifetime, at least the best haul this month to be sure. (Other men may not think so, but other men don’t have Jack’s flair for fashion.) He runs his hands reverently over the array of fabric: here, the slippery smoothness of a silk-lined waistcoat, there, the fine, airy weave of a muslin shift.

A snort draws his attention up from the pile of clothes to where Anne is holding a satin skirt like it’s a dead animal. “There’s dresses in this,” she says, in the tone of one handling something particularly gruesome or slimy.

“There are,” Jack murmurs in agreement while sizing up a burgundy wool coat. The silver thread used for the embroidery is unraveling in several places, but overall it seems serviceable enough. When he lowers it, Anne is still looking at him.

“You don’t like dresses. Don’t he know that?” Jack nods. “Why’d he give you this, then?”

"I believe he just crammed what he could into the crate,” Jack answers honestly. Then, at her skeptical look: “Darling, please let’s neither of us delude ourselves that Charles Vane would take the time to sort through petticoats and sashes during a raid.”

Anne drops the skirt. “Fine.” She stomps back over to the chair in the corner and flings herself into it, posture insolent as any man’s. Jack’s heart squeezes with almost painful fondness at the sight.

“I wouldn’t have taken it if it truly bothered me,” he says after a moment of her mulish silence. He knows she knows, but still, better to make it explicit. He wants to enjoy tonight and her and Vane at each other’s throats is not on the agenda.

There’s no reply from the chair, but the tight line of her lips eases slightly, which he counts as a victory. He turns his attention back to the clothes. Where to start?

The sun has set completely by the time Jack decides on an outfit. The candles are dripping wax onto the bare wood of the table, but their light is at least good enough to see himself by in the tarnished mirror. He twists one way, then the other, before turning to Anne. “What do you think?”

It’s quite a sight if he does say so himself. The blue silk chemise catches the light and ripples like waves with his every movement. He sheds his baldric to better admire the patterns of small flowers printed at the hems and collar; no expense was spared in this craftsmanship.

Anne has been silent. “Something the matter, darling?”

“No.” Then, a moment later: “Why’re you bothering? Getting all fancy for him?”

Jack pauses where he’d been fiddling with his favourite orange cravat. “For him? No, no this is for me.”

Anne looks at him suspiciously.

“It feels good. Sometimes one does things for no other reason than that.”

Anne stares at him a moment longer, as if parsing the veracity of his statement. She must reach a conclusion because she sighs and stands up. “It brings out your eyes.”

Jack fiddles with his rings to hide the smile her words bring to his lips. It doesn’t bring out his eyes; it does clash horribly with the yellow brocade justacorps he shrugs on. But he recognizes that comment for what it is: Anne, offering support, which is infinitely more wonderful to him than all the silk chemises in the world.

“Thank you,” he says softly. Then, as she heads towards the door, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

She nods once and is gone, leaving Jack alone in the room. He twists to the mirror again, admiring the swish and fall of the fabric, the rakish silhouette it creates. For a moment, he hears the rustling of silk and remembers the same sound, from long ago. He takes a breath and squares his shoulders, reminds himself of the years and oceans between now and then. He is not thirteen anymore, and now he has Anne, who will kill anyone who tries to put him in a dress. Even Charles. The thought is oddly comforting, and Jack whistles to himself as he takes one last indulgent look in the mirror and heads downstairs.

The sun may have gone down but the volume of the tavern has only gone up. Patrons are spilling rum and falling all over each other, turning the courtyard into a heaving mess of unwashed bodies and unintelligible voices. Jack pauses on the landing to take stock, noting the other crews that have since come in: he can see Sully, first mate of the Fortitude, cheating at cards with Joshua from the Walrus crew (he makes a mental note to be well clear of this place before Flint ever hears about it); a dozen other regulars are crowded round the bar, hoping against hope to barter for drinks on the house - more the fool they, for Max runs a tight ship.

The real focus of his attention is sitting in a grey haze of smoke off in a corner, and Jack makes his way down the stairs and through the throng of drunk, sweaty pirates with as much grace as he can muster. If he puts a bit of extra swagger in his walk, well. He's Jack bloody Rackham. He's earned it.

Charles is drinking from a tankard of rum. When he sees Jack, it hits the table with a thump.

"Evening, Charles."

A long slow exhalation of smoke. "Jack."

Jack doesn't shiver at the way Charles says his name, but it's close. He nudges at the toe of Charles' boot where his feet are propped on a chair. "Do you mind?"

In another time, in another life, if Jack were someone else, Charles might remove his feet only to kick the chair over, might spread his legs and leer, might drag Jack into his lap, why don't you have a seat here, sweetheart? This isn't that life. Charles removes his feet, shoves the chair and the rum towards Jack who takes both with a nod. He takes a quick swig of the rum, wincing slightly at the bitter burn.

Charles is still looking at him. His cigar is dangling from his fingers, slowly burning down. "The clothes fit, then?"

"Half of it was non-salvageable," Charles' fingers twitch, "but the pieces that were... Well." Jack gestures to himself. "If the clothes make the man, then I am well-made indeed."

"Huh," Charles says. And then: "You look good."

Plain. Simple. Easy. A statement of fact. It has no business sending a thrilling warmth through Jack's veins, and yet. He allows himself the slightest bit of preening. Then, emboldened by the burn of the rum and the weight of silk and brocade against his skin, "Thanks to you."

Charles has precious few tells but the way his eyes narrow fractionally at Jack's words is one of them. A heavy silence falls between them. Jack sits up straighter, squares his shoulders; he doesn't miss the way Charles' gaze tracks to the hollow of his throat.

"Fuck," Charles hisses, dropping the forgotten cigar which has burned down to his fingers. He crushes the stub under his boot heel and looks back to Jack.

"You know, nice as it is to get some peace and quiet -" Jack is cut off as a chair sails through the air to crash against the opposite wall, quickly followed by its occupant, "I was rather hoping we could do something other than sit and brood at each other all evening."

“Yeah?” Charles is leaning forward now, and Jack’s not even sure he knows it. His voice is a deep rumble. “What’d you have in mind?”

Jack plants a hand on the table, stands up. He’s warm from the rum, half-drunk on the freedom of his new clothes and the intoxicating weight of Charles’ dark gaze that hasn’t left him for a moment. He leans forward into Charles’ space and smiles, all teeth. “Why don’t I show you?”