#jesus this is 2k longer than i expected it to be

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter fourteen

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm back to posting semi-regularly, yay! Not sure when the next chapter will be finished because of the holidays but hopefully it'll be within the next week or so! This one is a little on the shorter side, but the next several will be longer I think! (Since I haven't actually written them--but I have plans and they're lengthy.)

Series Masterlist

word count: 2k

“Oh man,” Martinez groaned as his eyes flicked from Alfred, to her, to the picture, and back again. He gulped audibly. Next to him, Blake the security guard was white as a sheet. “Gordon’s gonna kill me.”

“Gordon’s gonna kill me,” Martinez said for the twentieth time as y/n poured him a cup of coffee to replace the one that was currently still on the foyer floor. “I was supposed to be the one paying attention. I was the one he trusted.” Which, he informed  her after maybe the fourth “Gordon’s gonna kill me,” that meant he was Gordon’s most trusted on her security team. He was one who was secretly supposed to make sure no one else was compromised. 

“Martinez,” y/n said for the nineteenth time. “No he isn’t. You were doing your job. You already said you didn’t leave, or fall asleep, or take a call. In fact, you did your job so well you ignored my offer of coffee.” She held out the new mug. 

Martinez was still nervously mangling the hat of his uniform. He was completely ignoring her reassurances. He went still after a second, then turned eyes that were twice as frightened to her. “Man, Mr. Wayne’s gonna be so mad too, isn’t he? This is his house.” 

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “I’ll handle Bruce. And besides–Alfred’s more in charge than he is, and he already agreed it wasn’t your fault.” Alfred had met Gordon downstairs a few minutes earlier. The elevator and entire lobby had been turned into a crime scene. Martinez and y/n were waiting to give their statements. 

Easing Martinez’s fears was much easier than facing her own. It was easy to focus on him and nothing else. Because in the short half hour since she’d first found the picture, each bit of new information was worse than the last. No one on the security detail had been harmed, bribed, or had even moved. The security cameras had been turned off for only ten minutes. Which all meant that someone had enough access to Wayne Tower and its security to get past everything extra that had been set up. 

They wanted her to know that they could get to her. 

And they were drawing it out. Instead of grabbing her, they were making her wait. Making her scared.

Y/n focused again on the nervous cop in front of her, who was still bemoaning the fact that everyone was going to be mad at him. 

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to be mad at you,” she snapped. There was a headache blooming between her eyes. 

Martinez quieted, looking like a kicked puppy with a mustache. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, y/n. If I can make it up to you at all–” 

“Just drink your coffee, okay? No one blames you.” Y/n took a sip of her coffee. Her hands were still shaking, and some of the liquid spilled over as she set the cup back down. Damn, she was wasting a lot of coffee in one night. 

She startled when a warm hand landed atop hers. She looked up and met Martinez’s soft gaze. He didn’t say anything else, but his presence was enough to steady her. 

“I’m so glad they didn’t shoot you,” she said after a moment. 

They shared a grin. “Hell, me too.” 

An awareness prickled along y/n’s spine.

She looked up, and there was Bruce. 

His hair was stuck to his forehead and his shirt was on inside out. Her stomach swooped. There really only seemed to be one possibility from those two clues, plus the fact that he hadn’t been home. 

Jealousy and shame spread like hot oil through her stomach. 

Bruce looked…angry. His eyes were twin blue flames where they stayed locked on Martinez’s hand atop hers. 

Martinez scrambled to his feet as if the king of fucking England had just walked in. More coffee spilled as he bumped the table. Y/n half expected him to bow for Bruce. She rolled her eyes. 

“Mr. Wayne! I’m so sorry, I swear I was paying attention, I–” 

Bruce’s eyes went cold. “And you are?” 

“Officer Martinez, we actually met back–” 

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. It was her turn to jump to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said to Bruce.  

Martinez flinched. Bruce calmly glanced her way then went back to glaring at Martinez. 

“When the security of my home has been compromised due to incompetence–” Bruce said, still calm despite the obvious fury in his eyes. 

Y/n cut him off. “Oh shut up. Stop talking to him like that. It wasn’t his fault!” 

Bruce’s eyes flashed. “Well, it was certainly someone’s.” 

“Maybe it was yours, then.” The words rose within her on a tide of anger. God, her life had been threatened again, and he had the nerve to come home from fucking his girlfriend and act like a dick to her friend? “I mean, you’ve been letting the rest of the tower go to shit for years, makes sense that maybe security is a little lax. Especially if you don’t even give enough of a shit to ever be here.” 

They were almost toe to toe now, both breathing heavily. From the corner of her eye, she saw Martinez freeze in place, mouth open in shock. 

“I give too much of a shit, y/n. If your little boyfriend hadn’t been distracted–” 

Oh, y/n thought. Bruce thought Martinez was her boyfriend. And okay, maybe it looked like that, but Martinez actually had a great girlfriend who was in a group chat with them where they all sent memes to each other. She and Martinez wanted to set up a double date with her cousin and y/n.

The realization made the anger ebb, but then she was pissed off all over again. 

“What gives you the right to act like this?” she spat at Bruce. He was so much taller than her that her neck was starting to ache from glaring up at him. “After what you did, after what you said, you’re acting like you have any right to one, be involved in my personal life at all or two, be jealous!” 

Bruce flinched. Just like the first time it had happened two days ago, it didn’t feel as good as she thought it would. 

“Um,” Martinez said in the echoing silence. “We’re actually just friends and I–I’m going to go give my statement now?” 

Y/n barely noticed him leaving. 

She was so sick of being so afraid, so heartbroken, so…everything. 

“You’re going to apologize to him whether he’s just my friend or not,” she said, poking Bruce in the chest. He winced and tried to mask it by looking away. “I already told you, Bruce. I lost you three years ago. Stop acting like that didn’t fucking happen, because it did.” 

Bruce’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Now he wasn’t looking her in the eye at all. “I didn’t mean–” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, yes you did.” But the words were bereft of the anger that had been present only moments before. She took a deep breath and a step backwards. “I’m just–sick of pretending things are the same, okay? I know you want to go all protective-best-friend thinking Martinez is my boyfriend or that he put me in danger but–I can’t just–Things aren’t–” Suddenly words were failing her. “It’s just not the same, okay?” 

She watched as Bruce softened, too. “Y/n, I’m sorry, I–” 

“Why did Martinez just run out of here like a bomb went off?” Gordon’s voice cut across whatever Bruce had been about to say. 

“Mommy and Daddy were fighting,” y/n said drily, her defense mechanism of humor kicking in. Bruce made a choking noise. “Find anything useful? Like maybe Frank Gallo?”

She could almost hear Gordon’s teeth grinding from across the room. “No.” 

“Bruce,” Alfred said from behind Gordon. “We have some things to discuss.” 

Bruce gave her one last glance before following Alfred out. 

Alone with Gordon now, y/n sank into her chair with a long sigh. She stared at the little coffee spills as if they had personally offended her. “If I spill any more coffee tonight I might kill someone.” 

“Now that would be a sight. Looked like you were about to do Mr. Wayne in already.” Gordon chuckled and took the seat across from her. He flipped open a small notebook. 

“I’m still not opposed to smothering him in his sleep,” she muttered. “Arrest me if you have to.” 

“How about I get your statement instead?” 

It didn’t take long. She was basically a pro at giving statements to the police at this point. When she was done, she said, “I’m so…tired of giving statements to the police.” 

Gordon regarded her with sharp eyes that didn’t miss anything. “We’re doing everything we can, y/n,” he said softly. 

“I know, I know. It’s just–getting shot at was scary and all, but this is my home.” Her voice cracked. She ducked her head and fiddled with her coffee mug so Gordon wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “They’re telling me they can get to me here, too. Where I’m supposed to be safe.”

“I understand completely. We’ll get him. We’ll get them. I have a feeling he might show up on our doorstep sooner rather than later, with something bat-shaped pinned to him and a couple of black eyes and broken bones.” Gordon smirked. Y/n frowned as she realized she hadn’t seen Batman at all. Had he been downstairs? Maybe Bruce hadn’t wanted him to come upstairs. Her frown deepened. “Now, you’re going to have to help me convince Officer Martinez not to sleep in the elevator tonight. Or right outside your door. He’s pretty upset.” 

“I’m surprised he still wants to hang around, considering how much of a dick Bruce was,” y/n said under her breath. “But I’ll do my best.” 

Martinez took a lot of convincing, but eventually relented and went home to his girlfriend. He made y/n put a chair under her bedroom door handle first, though.

Bruce hadn’t reappeared by the time y/n went to bed. 

She laid down, the words of their argument–or whatever the hell that had been–replaying on a loop. Being around him made her feelings go haywire. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry at him. The heartbreak of three years ago had taken over her life and she had to admit that the anger felt…almost good. Cathartic. But it also made her feel out of control. She didn’t feel like herself. Being mad at Bruce went against years of instincts. She was used to defending him, or him defending her, to being on the same team together.

She was still wide awake as dawn broke over the sky hours later. 

Another thought kept turning over and over in her mind. Frank Gallo–or someone he had hired–had gotten into her home. Her very, very secure home. 

She had been afraid before, but it was nothing like this. Her safe haven had been…sullied. They knew who she was, where she lived, and had basically said right to her face that not even Bruce Wayne’s money and power could keep her safe. 

Added all together, y/n’s mind simply would not shut off in order for her to sleep.

It occurred to her again that she hadn’t seen Batman at all–had Gordon updated him on what happened? Because he had been in that photo, too. He had kept her alive, which she was certain had pissed off the Gallos. Was he a target? Maybe the picture of them together was a threat to both of them, but only given to her since they knew where she lived. 

When she rolled over, her eyes caught on all of her research piled on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes snagged on those three words: white knight syndrome. 

She bet she had her answer about any possible feelings he might have. Even if he had shown up, he hadn’t tried to contact her, to see her, nothing. He was probably sick of having to keep her alive. He was probably leaving it up to Gordon and the police department now. 

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone. 

Next Chapter

taglist: IF YOUR USERNAME HAS CHANGED LET ME KNOW!!!!!!

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard @miriamnox @mavenmoon @eclipsedplanet @spencerrxids @giulia2372 @katara-is-a-goddess-changemymind @janezat @incorrectmarvelquotesss @spiritdetectivel @i-have-no-life-charlie @ilovemybabes @curseyouperrytheplatypus @lightsinmycity @yondiii @spideybv28 @fictionalmansl4t

[areseebee]

I binge read smoke break and omg it’s so good and I just wanted to say thank you for contributing your writing to this fandom❤️. Idk if you’re still doing those Derry Girl prompts, but if so #25: Wanted?

thank you so much!! this is such an incredibly nice thing to hear. i have had this sitting in my inbox for far too long, but i’m glad to finally have finished especially because you drew such beautiful erin art that i am still so in awe over.

my 2k word answer to the prompt wanted is below the cut! this one is set around christmas pre-smoke break.

the prompt comes from this ask game i posted a while ago. heads up that this will probably be the last one i write (at least for the time being).

“Shhh! Jesus, you’re going to wake them all up,” Erin hissed over her shoulder at the sound of a particularly loud and especially grumpy creak of the Mallons’ stairs.

“How was I supposed to know the step was going to make that horrible sound?” James whispered angrily back at her, 

“You live here. You’re supposed to know these things.”

“Yeah, well usually I’m not going to bed in my aunt and uncle’s house trying to hide the fact that I’m fucking sloshed.”

Erin opened her mouth to snap back, only to realise a moment too late that she didn’t have any words to say, only a laugh which snorted out somewhere from the back of her throat incredibly ungracefully.

“Was that the stairs again or you?” he asked as Erin devolved into a fit of giggles, her knees seeming to autonomously decide they no longer wanted to support her drunken legs as she sank onto the top step in the dark.

“I’m sorry, James. I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll make it. I’m too blocked to go to bed. I’ll sleep here. Just leave me,” she said, letting her head fall back against the wood railing behind her. Maybe a drink or two ago, it would have been feigned helplessness, but not now. Now it just felt like exactly the right thing to stay here, just to rest her eyes. Just for a moment. And if that moment stretched all night, well that was just how it was going to be. The top stair could be her pillow.

She expected to feel James brush by her, to leave her behind and make his own way to Michelle’s room where Michelle, Orla, and Clare were bundled up across Michelle’s floor and bed for the night. Maybe if James went, she’d eventually find the strength to stand and follow. There were comfy blankets in Michelle’s room.

The sound of gentle creaking on the stair just below her signalled that James had no intention of brushing by. She cracked an eyelid open to see him sit down on his own step and settle in next to her.

“I was serious – you can just leave me,” she half whispered into the dark, her voice sounding croaky and a bit too loud in the quiet house.

“And let you wake us all up again in 20 minutes when you decide you’re too cold out here? No.”

“I’m so tired,” she complained.

“There’s like…only three metres maybe to Michelle’s room.”

“I can’t do it. My legs are too drunk,” she said, wiggling her foot at him to show. He reached out defensively to grab her ankle.

“Watch where you throw that thing. You almost kicked me in the face,” he said.

“Sorry,” she muttered, setting it back down again. His grip loosened immediately, but his hand lingered, right at the top edge of her sock with the too-worn elastic where it had slumped and bunched at the top of her foot. 

She didn’t like wearing them for that reason – they always got twisted somehow around her foot, but they were the warmest she had and good for a cold December night like this one. They’d served her well the past few hours especially, when she’d been sitting in the Mallons’ small back garden with James, drinking what had probably been litres of Michelle’s spiked “eggnog” – more rum than anything else – as they talked, their friends flitting intermittently outside to join them and back in again to get warm in front of the tv or finally go to sleep. Erin had tucked her legs under her and a blanket around her sometime around 10pm, asked James about how his first term at uni in London had gone, and hadn’t left since.

Until a few minutes ago, when they’d finally gotten a little too cold, and yawned a few too many times, and James had finally looked at his watch to remark, “Oh Jesus, it’s half past three,” and they had finally decided to creep quietly upstairs to join the others. Only they hadn’t been so quiet after all.

And now his hand was on her ankle.

Maybe a drink or two ago she would have ignored it. Maybe a drink or two ago, she wouldn’t have even registered it. But now – 

“Nope, I can’t do it,” she announced as quietly and as firmly as she could manage.

He gave her a sudden serious, searching look and she felt his hand slip lightly away. Her ankle felt cold where his hand had been. “Do what?”

“Go to bed. I thought about it. Three metres is too far. Just leave me here. Good night,” she said, letting her eyelids close and her head roll back against the wood railing behind her again.

“All right. Fine,” he said, as she heard him stand up brusquely. “Good night. I’m going to go brush my teeth.”

“No, wait! I’m coming, too,” she said, scrambling to her feet. “If you’re just going to leave me…”

“You told me to leave you!” he hissed behind her as he followed her to the bathroom.

“I didn’t actually mean –”

“I knew it –”

“Whatever,” she said, fumbling around in the dark of the bathroom to find the light switch. She handed him his toothbrush before grabbing her own and applying toothpaste.

It was almost untenable, having to brush her teeth at this late hour, but if he was going to, she couldn’t just beg off. What would he think? He’d think about what gross breath she probably had, and she didn’t want James thinking anything about her breath that wasn’t nice. Not that she should probably even be thinking about what he thought about her breath. But if he were, just hypothetically, well…she only wanted him to think about nice things.

She glanced up at herself in the mirror before letting her eyes dart to his reflection, standing right next to hers, only to meet his eyes in the mirror doing the exact same thing. 

He didn’t do what she thought he’d do – look away – and instead held her gaze. She felt something funny turn in her stomach. Hopefully it wasn’t the eggnog starting to sit wrong. But if it wasn’t the eggnog…

He raised his eyebrows at her exaggeratedly. She blinked at him, uncomprehending, until he raised them by another centimetre. She raised hers in return, mimicking him.

He waggled his eyebrows at her. She mimicked him again, starting to enjoy the game.

He rolled his eyes at her. She did the same, trying to keep a dumb smile from spreading across her face. 

And then, just as he waited a beat longer than she expected and she almost turned to look at him directly, he winked – winked – before bending down to spit his toothpaste out into the sink.

It was good he was busy rinsing his mouth with water, because she felt an immediate blush creep up her neck and she couldn’t help the way her mouth stretched wide into a smile – an incredible inconvenience with a toothbrush in her mouth of all things.

She quickly followed suit behind him, trying to spit as gracefully as she could into the sink, which felt especially challenging when she knew he was watching her. She could feel it.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said, arms crossed and leaning back against the bathroom counter behind him as she wiped stray toothpaste off her mouth on a hand towel.

“Speak for yourself,” she answered. “I could have been asleep by now.” She reached up to unclasp her necklace, and fumbled. Her fingers felt too clumsy at this early morning hour, and after all of the drinks, and the cold, and what was becoming an overwhelming desire to be tucked under a pile of blankets drifting off to sleep, she didn’t have nor cared to have the dexterity she needed to remove her necklace. “Ugh. I just wanted – never mind,” she huffed, giving up.

“Need help?” James asked, pushing himself off the counter and taking a step toward her.

“Can you?” she asked, turning her back to him to give him easier access to the clasp. She felt him step close behind her, and tried to keep still. It was more than a little disconcerting to have him so near, even though it was only James and he was always near.

But he wasn’t near like this. At least, not very often. And especially not lately.

“Is it ok if I –” he started, but he was already clumsily sweeping her hair over one shoulder, his fingers brushing along the back of her neck.

“Aye,” she answered too late because the word had caught in her throat. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, too dry. Probably the alcohol – that was a thing, right? She felt him shift behind her, move in closer.

“It’s a little hard to see,” he muttered in explanation from somewhere directly behind her ear. Maybe from his voice, or the delicate movements of the necklace as he fiddled with it, or the way his fingers were brushing just there at the nape of her neck – she tried her hardest, but couldn’t bite back the shiver that came over her. “Sorry, my hands are cold,” he said. She felt another flush sweep up her cheeks at the fact that he had noticed. How totally embarrassing.

“Mmm,” was her only tense response as she continued to feel him fumble at the clasp.

“It’s so tiny. I’m too drunk for this,” he muttered so low she suspected he was speaking more to himself than her. She’d have laughed – she wanted to laugh – but she could only concentrate on the feeling of his breath against her ear when he’d said it.

Her whole body felt tense. Her feet had grown roots into the floor. The whole house could have collapsed around her and she’d still be standing, just like this. Because maybe, if she moved too much, if she didn’t stand this still, then James wouldn’t be standing behind her, wouldn’t be moving his hands across the span of her neck as delicately as he could probably muster.

Oh God.

“Just –” she started, and she felt his hands still. “Just don’t worry about it. I can do it. Or just sleep in it. It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal at all,” came tumbling out of her mouth in a rush.

“Are you sure? Let me have one more go,” he said, already busying his hands again. “Wait! Wait, got it,” he said triumphantly. “Do you have it?” he asked, letting the necklace slip down her neck.

“No, hold on, let me –” Erin answered, feeling the necklace start to drop just as he said, “Oh here –” his hands whispering around to her collar bone to grab the piece of jewellery as it slipped away. She could feel the trail of heat from his hand bloom out across her chest as the light chain of the necklace dragged out from under her hair. She turned to face him, feeling more hesitant than she was comfortable with. 

He was tall. Not like tall. But taller. She could tell. Especially at this proximity. He must be taller. Because usually her eyes were accustomed to meeting his right at the level where it seemed his mouth now was. She dragged her eyes up his face and met his shyly. 

“Here,” he said quietly, holding the necklace out to her and letting it fall into her outstretched hand.

“Thanks,” she answered, and he gave her a small smile in return.

He was taller, but not that tall, not so tall that she couldn’t, if she wanted –

“Jesus, why the fuck are you two still awake?” Michelle asked, stepping blearily into the bathroom, her hand attempting to shield herself from the light of the bathroom.

“We’re going to bed now,” James said hurriedly as he took a step backwards.

“Ok well I need to boke so if you could leave that would be great,” Michelle answered, pushing past the two of them to make her way to the toilet.

They shuffled out as quickly as they could, pausing at the open door to Michelle’s room.

“Well…good night,” Erin whispered to him. She heard him take an intake of breath, like he was about to say something, so she lingered, waiting for him.

“Yeah. Good night,” he said after a beat.

She slipped past him soundlessly into the room to her usual spot on Michelle’s floor, just under the window, and fell asleep trying not to think about how many steps she’d have to take to cross Michelle’s room to find him at the other end of it.

[gardnhee]

fuuuuuuuckkkkk okay okay.

beomgyu. (shocker) BUT HES LIKE really rude and like emo and like hates everyone type beat, everyone but the reader and she like a lil sunflower (me) 💪

MKAY SO. they’re at a party mhm mhm and then he gets a lil jealous hehehehe, takes her home immediately then BOOM raw sex.

BUR BUR BUT BUT it’s like a lil soft because he’s soft for her, ygm ygm?! 😅😅😅😅

that’s all

CONGRATS ON 100 BABY U GON ROCK THIS🔥

100 bash here ! (master list coming soon…)

warning(s). smutsmutsmutsmut, they’re so in love it’s gross, dramatic asf, no foreplay cs reader is needy :3, yn loves his thighs hehehe, lots of dirty talking!!

note. i need emo beomgyu in ways no one will ever understand (TRUTH!)!! This took me much longer than expected > o < please excuse any mistakes as I am not the best at writing smut …

wc. 2k

pairing. emo!bf!gyu x afab!reader

“Baby…” you sigh out, gently rubbing his bleeding lip with soapy finger pads. Beomgyu slumps against the infirmary wall, wincing at the sting, “I know, I know.” It’s cold, chilly air settling on your warm skin like a blanket.

“Well, obviously, you don’t know.” You spit as he frowns, “look, I get it, okay? Don’t nag me.” You scoff, wiping the froth away. “You’re unbelievable, Beomgyu.”

He doesn’t say anything, letting you bandage his wound with the utmost care. A care he doesn’t deserve. Yet you give it, no questions asked.

“I’m sorry, yn.”

“What for?”

“I keep getting into fights and-“ his words come to an abrupt stop, as if pondering on what he’ll say next, “and I keep bringing you stress, it shouldn’t be that way.” Your heart swells, scrunching your nose as you place your hands over his.

“I forgive you.” Your eyes gleam, holding his in a comforting silence, and for the nth time today, he’s fallen hopelessly in love. “Do you…” he clears his throat, “let’s eat, my treat.” He leans in, pecking your lips, “what do you say?”

You tap your chin, gazing at the ceiling with a grin, “I say yes.” Beomgyu claps, hopping off the creaky cot and extending his arm, “come on.”

. ۫ ꣑ৎ .

“Beomgyu, if I asked you to come with me to a party, will you?”

He nods without a second thought, gobbling his food like he hasn’t eaten in years. “Who-“ he continues chewing, pausing for a brief moment before swallowing, “who invited you?”

“Nari, I’ve talked about her, I believe.”

“Childhood friend, right?” You nod, leaning in, “are you sure you want to come?”

“Yes, I’m okay with it. I’ve got nothing to do, so I’d rather spend some time with you.”

“We live together, silly.” You smile as he shrugs, diving back into his food.

People never believe you — an extroverted person — have an introverted boyfriend who’s basically a homebody. But it’s true, he’s not as sociable as you. To be frank, it was extremely difficult to talk to him, let alone get close on a romantic level. Always shy, always — despite his not-so discreet crush — avoiding you.

His social circle consists of nine individuals, including friends, some family, and well, you. So, you can’t help but feel a strong sense of accomplishment when he steps out of his comfort zone. However, it’s not like you repeatedly ask him to tag along, you respect his boundaries and vice versa.

To put it simply, he dislikes people.

“Can you wear that dress I love so much? You know, the red minidress?”

You shriek in excitement, “yes!”

. ۫ ꣑ৎ .

“This is the party in question?” Your boyfriend looks disappointed, turning to you with a frown. “I…guess so? Haha…” you awkwardly scratch your nape, eyes darting around the crowded room. “Jesus, even I know what a good party is supposed to look like…” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief before regarding you, “I’ll get us some drinks, ‘kay?” Beomgyu pats your shoulder, blending in with the crowd.

Nari approaches you, shuffling through the horde of people with a smile so bright it’s blinding, “hey!” She sing-songs, grabbing your hand and twirling you around, swiftly pulling you in for a hug, “you look so beautiful!” She compliments, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Thank you, ri. You look amazing yourself.” You study her dress, simple, but cute.

Her cheeks dust over as she waves flustered hands in the air, “I’m flattered!” Her body tilts forward, yelling over the blaring music.

“Whose party-!” Your lips form into a frown as your shoulder dips, “Beom-?” A drunk man stands before you, hair matted with sweat, sporting a crooked smile. “May I help you?” You scowl, shoving his greasy hand away.

“Wanna have fun, sweet thing?” His arms snake your waist, vice grip almost punching the air out of your lungs. You gag, pressure building in your head, pulsing, wrapping its malicious hands around your body. The air is dense, hints of salt and booze dancing in your nostrils till you feel lightheaded.

“Excuse-“ your friend chimes in, trying to push the man away in vain.

“Yn?” Your blood freezes, “what’re you doing?” Beomgyu’s stunned eyes flicker from you to the unknown man. His jaw ticks, handing Nari the cups.

“I-he-“ you stutter, swallowing hard at his stern glare. “Who is he, sweetheart? Your brother?” — “boyfriend.” Beomgyu answers, voice low and menacing, “take your hands off of her.” A demand, not a question. However, the man, in his intoxicated state, doesn’t comply.

“Let her go.” Beomgyu tenses, gaze trained on your waist as his fists curl into white-peaked hills, nails digging into his palms.

“No-“

The man falls limp on the floor, blood spurting from his nose and staining his clothes. “Did you just-“ the words die in your throat, mouth going dry at your boyfriend’s forced smile.

Your ears no longer ring from the piercing boom of the music as three dozen pairs of eyes stay engrossed in the commotion.

“Let’s go.” He grits, bloodied knuckles matching your dress.

. ۫ ꣑ৎ .

Your leg bounces as anxiety rips through your skull, a painful tingle bubbling on your scalp. Beomgyu’s been in the bathroom for at least an hour now, and aside from the fact that you’re sweaty and need to shower, you’re worried. He never takes this long unless he’s genuinely upset about something.

You spring from the bed, reaching for the bathroom door. “Gyu?” He stands in the shower, turning as the water pours over him, sliding from his hair to the tip of his nose and jaw. “May I come in?” Beomgyu nods, liquid clumping to his lashes like droplets on a spiderweb after a rainy day.

Humid air slaps your face, fogging the mirror and shower window. “You okay?” He questions as you stay facing the glass barrier, eyeing his every move.

“I’m okay, are you okay?” It’s hard to breathe as dampness hugs your skin.

“Yeah…” His voice is hoarse, wet palm massaging his red knuckles, “I’m sorry you had to experience that.” You open the glass door, speckles of water bouncing around and bleeding into the fabric of your dress. “Don’t apologize? I mean, I’m good. You protected me.” Beomgyu bites his lip, nodding before stepping closer, “come in, please?” He pleads, rubbing his hands together with a pout.

You slither out of your clothes, trying to ignore the way he ogles at your hardened buds. He pulls you by the waist, hugging you so tight you might actually stop breathing.

Beomgyu rests his chin on the crown of your head, drawing circles on your back. You run an adventurous finger along the muscle of his upper leg, “Have I ever mentioned that I love your thighs? They’re so pretty…” the rumble of his hum drums on your ear, sending shockwaves of arousal through your body.

You raise your head, arms draped over his shoulders.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He comments, gliding his thumb over your bottom lip. His eyes glaze over, lust, longing, brewing beneath.

You seize his nape, smashing your lips in a heated kiss. Beomgyu moans, nails digging into your skin, leaving crescent moons in their wake, “I need you so bad…” he breathes, hoisting your legs around his hips and pinning you against the icy tiles.

Your back arches, trembling in his hold as electricity pokes under your flesh, harshly picking at the seams of your very being, stripping you of any and all stoicism. “Please…” you keen, grinding your sopping cunt against his cock, angry red, standing proud. His face is nestled in your neck, biting and sucking to his heart’s content.

You cry, the combination of wet bodies and the steam of lukewarm water is enough to drive you to the brink of insanity. “I need it, please…” your hand finds his dick, furiously stroking it as his grip falters, “mff…beg for it, doll.” He rubs your clit with a shit eating grin, “come on, use your words.”

“Please…please I want it so bad pleasepleaseplease!” You fuss, pawing at his back with fervor. “You’re so good to me...fuck…” Beomgyu skims your folds, lining himself with your throbbing entrance.

He’s slow at first, inserting his bulbous head with an exhale, making you take him inch by inch until he’s completely bottomed out. But his patience runs thin. Images of that man’s arm around your waist flood his mind.

Beomgyu seethes, fighting that little voice in his head, begging him to plow into you, to make you scream until the only thing you can remember is his cock filling you up.

But he won’t, because you’re the most fragile, precious thing he’s ever laid hands upon. Your tender skin, your gummy walls squeezing him for all he’s worth, that sensitive spot in your neck that has you seeing stars every time he suckles on it.

He loves it, he loves you. He’d never want to hurt you.

“You can m-move…faster.” He smiles, eyes softening as a single tear escapes your lash line. “feel good, princess?” you’re subdued to a moaning mess, toes curling as he nudges your cervix with his blunt tip. His mellow thumb wipes the salty streak from your cheek, basking in the way your neck is littered in purple love marks.

Beomgyu licks a thick stripe up the valley of your breasts, groaning when they bounce against his cheeks. “You’re doing great baby…” he pants, breath fanning your nipples in ragged puffs, “takin’ me so well - ah…” his balls slap your ass, the faint sting making your pleasure increase tenfold.

“That man can’t have you like this…” He gives you a wry laugh, shuddering at the slick sound of your sobbing cunt everytime he pulls out, “can he?”

“ngh…gah!…”

“What was that, dollface?” His teeth graze your neck, smiling as a vein pulsates under his lips, “No! No he can’t-!” You hiccup, eyes shut tight as more tears threaten to spill, “only you- shit!…only you..!” he nods, “good - hah - girl!” hissing when you claw his bicep, “Beomgyu ‘m s-so close…!”

“Me too, baby…wait for me?” Beomgyu peers into your dazed expression, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. “Fuck…you look breathtaking.” He heaves, cock twitching as he teeters around the edge.

The tiles scrape your back, so you mewl, tapping his shoulder. “I got you, I got you.” He spins, leaning on the frosty wall as you freely bounce in rhythm with his thrusts. “That better?” — “mff…mhm!” You can’t think, you can’t speak, you can’t function. The only thing you can do is take what he gives you.

Beomgyu’s arm moves to your lower back, holding you in place while his free hand finds yours, intertwining trembling fingers. “Let go, yn. Please, cum with me…” he moans, kissing you, a filthy clash of teeth and tongues. He moves to your shoulder, biting it as his drenched hair clings to your face, thrusts becoming sloppy, and after three more, he releases with a high pitched mewl, letting go of your hand to find purchase in your nape, pressing the side of your face to his.

You convulse, fluttering around him as white-hot pleasure courses through you, prodding every nerve within. “I’m right here, baby. Yeah, that’s it…” Your senses are heightened, taking note of the sizzling slosh of water, punching the floor before growing the puddle at your boyfriend’s feet, the soothing palpitations of his heart, filling you with love and adoration.

his breath brushes your ear, chest moving up and down as pulls you away, peeking at your sleeping form, “what about aftercare?” He pouts, pulling out with a wince.

He airily lays you down on the bed, brows rising when you clasp his wrist, “hold on…” you groggily sit, “I have a favor to ask…”

“Ask away, princess.”

“Can you get some towels? Please?” You pause, eyes twinkling, “and ice-cream?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be right back.” He stands from the bed, marching to the bathroom. “And gyu?” Beomgyu stops in his tracks, humming in response.

“I love you.”

He smiles, quickly sprinting to you and pecking your lips, “I love you so much more.”

💌. kinda iffy ab this but whatever my bae serene wants, my bae serene gets.

taglist. @beomiracles @theresawtf @jjklvr9 @binniebakery @beomies-world @hyukaaa @ninoshome1 @babymochibeargyu @lunathewritingcat @duckywuckypookiepie @naoristerling @oddracha @soohashits @junimoa03 @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @beomtasticc @itaehynz

© GARDNHEE, do not copy, modify, or upload on other platforms.

[whiskeytangofrogman]

Magic AU. Bitty is a baker who really messed up this maybe-not-recipe. Jack is a powerful but quiet demon who isn't sure what's going on, but there's pie.

Okay you sent this a literal year ago, but it’s finally done. Also, it’s 5k. 

I will post another, more refined version on ao3 (with betaing, even) in December, after NaNo, but please enjoy!

“Aaand… done.” Bitty shuts the oven firmly, and claps flour off his hands. He picks up the yellowed piece of paper from the counter, and scans his eyes over the recipe. He’d had to buy a few… weirder ingredients from the internet to get it done, but as long as it came out of the oven correctly, he’d get an A on his project, meaning that he would be officially done with his Bachelor’s degree in American Studies.

Now, to wait. The recipe said an hour, but Bitty’s oven was, obviously, better (though not by much) than a simple fireplace stove, and so he’d set it for thirty minutes, which was just enough time to finish that new movie he’d been watching.

Thirty minutes later, he pulls out a steaming pie, and grins. The crust is a beautiful golden brown (and all the symbols the recipe said were necessary stood out nicely, a darker, richer brown than the rest of the crust, unexpected but pleasant). “Perfect,” he mumbles to himself, setting it on the counter. He was tempted, all of a sudden, to cut into it. But it needed to be perfect for his professor, and she was a renowned stickler. He’d fail if it wasn’t perfect, and he didn’t have the money to buy the ingredients for another try. There were only so many places one could get rat tails for cheap.

He grabs a towel and throws it over the top, and the temptation goes away. He nods then, satisfied, and pulls out his phone. “Final project for history and culture: done. On to studying French.” He tweets, adding a nauseated-looking emoji at the end. He casts one last proud look at the pie, and leaves the room.

There was one slice left of the pie, and only a day left until it was going to spoil. Bitty had forgotten about it completely, between finishing his finals week, cleaning his house, and baking for the holiday season. When he’d finally gotten around to being able to rest, the last thing he wanted to do was eat more pie.

But he also wasn’t one to let such an expensive thing go to waste. “Oh well,” Bitty mutters under his breath, foregoing a plate and grabbing a fork. “I’ll just have to double down on that New Year’s resolution to exercise more, I guess.”

Bitty works his way through the now slightly stale slice while flipping through the channels on his small tv. There was nothing on, as per usual, and so he settled in to catch the tail end of a hockey game.

He’d played hockey in high school, but had stopped after his senior year. There wasn’t much of a place on college teams for someone so… slight. He sighed, shoving the last bite into his mouth and swallowing, hard. If only, if only. He frequently found himself wishing it was still something he did, this exact moment included. He’d loved it so much despite how mediocre he’d been.

At that exact moment, post-swallow and mid-reminisce, his tv began to smoke. “Shit,” he muttered, getting up. It was a cheap one, an old vacuum tube set he’d bought off Craigslist midway through fall semester when his last roommate had moved out and taken his nice flatscreen with him.

Bitty gets up and bangs his hand against the side, trying to get the fuzz to go away. The tv hisses, and then snaps back to clarity once more. He sighs, relieved, and turns around.

And comes face to face with a tall stranger, standing in the middle of his living room, smelling of sulfur and campfire burn.

He screams.

Half an hour later, one and a half beers, and a considerable amount of questions had calmed him down. Or, calmed him as much as he could be calmed.

Because this man? Was a demon, apparently, summoned through a mixture of Bitty’s pie (an old witch recipe) and his wishing. The recipe, the demon said, was notoriously difficult, and this anyone who managed to pull it off was entitled to three wishes.

Bitty was now entitled to three wishes. Because he’d accidentally summoned a demon.

“Do I have to sell you my soul?” The demon’s eyebrows twitch, and he sighs, dragging a hand down his face and looking altogether way too human for something apparently hellish in origin.

“For the third time, no. That’s part of the recipe.”

Bitty swigs down another gulp of now-warm beer (clutching a glass bottle in one’s hand so tightly one’s knuckles turned white wasn’t necessarily conducive to properly chilled alcohol) and tugs on the ends of his hair. “And I get three wishes? Just for baking a pie?”

The demon looks agitated. “Yes. Like I’ve explained three, no, four times now, it’s an old clause in the rule book, one we haven’t had to uphold in near half a millennium, and one we’ve been meaning to get rid of. His highness just hasn’t seen the need to,” the demon says, adding a glare. “Until now, of course.”

Bitty giggles, high pitched and sharp. This can’t be happening. I’m dreaming, he thinks. “Well then, fuck it.” He chugs the rest of the beer down, and slams it on the table. “I want to pass my class.”

The demon frowns. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

“CUL 458. I want to pass it with at least a B.” 

The demon stares for a second, and then rolls his eyes. “You’ll pass it.”

“Cool, so two more wishes-”

“No, that’s not a wish. I already know you’ll pass it.”

Bitty flashed the demon a confused look. “Are you omnipotent? Like god?”

The demon winces. “No. I just have slight… sight, for these sorts of things.”

Bitty shrugs. “Okay. Well, then I want to pass French.”

The demon nods, closes his eyes for a few seconds, and then opens them up once more. They’re glowing a pallid yellow, and he blinks a few times, the color draining back into black as he does. “Done. That one you wouldn’t have passed. How are you so bad?”

“Hey!” Bitty points an accusatory finger. “French is hard.”

The demon mutters something like not that hard, and opens his palm. “Your next two wishes?”

Bitty thinks for a second, and then frowns. “I don’t know.”

The demon groans, and stands. “I’ll give you a week.”

Bitty nods, and watches as the demon disappears as fast as he’d come, leaving the room smelling faintly still of sulfur, and now of ozone.

“Fuck,” Bitty mutters.

He wakes up the next morning, draped over the couch with his phone making indents on his cheek. The ”ping!” of his notifications had woken him up. Blearily, he sits up and unlocks the screen. He recalls the weird dream as he scrolls through Twitter, and snorts. “Musta been somethin’ in that pie. That’ll teach me to treat old recipes like they can store the same,” he says to himself.

There’s an email from his French professor, probably one letting him know that in order to pass, he’ll need to do the last minute extra credit paper, something he’d been prepared for since his final earlier that week. This was his last semester of the two year language requirement, and he’d been in danger of failing all semester.

He opens the email, and reads it over.

And then stares, and reads again. And again.

Somehow, he’d passed the final with enough points to land him at a respectable 73% in the class, just enough to pass.

The dream (or maybe it hadn’t been a dream at all?) came flooding back to him. There was no way in hell.

Bitty closes his email, and begins gathering the remnants of the previous night’s boozing to toss in the trashcan, the fuzzy edges of his dream twisting and fading until he’d finally convinced himself that it was a dream indeed, one born of stress and too much beer, and that the final grade he’d received was based not on a demonic encounter but on the ten straight hours of review he’d done the night before the test.

By the end of the week, he’d forgotten all about his weird dream. His last final had come and gone, and he was well into prepping the baked goods he’d promised his mom for his short trip back to Georgia before his last semester. His final batch of cookies was almost done when the one thing he’d convinced himself wouldn’t happen, did.

The demon came back.

Bitty didn’t scream this time, but only just. The demon looked much the same: human enough to seem normal until closer inspection, tall, brooding, and altogether much too handsome to be a creature from hell.

“Have you thought of your next wish, yet?”

Bitty groans, and slouches against the counter. “I thought I made you up.”

The demon stares at him. “Obviously not.”

Bitty clicks his phone off, and buries his face in his hands. “Look, I-” He sighs, and peeks through his fingers. The demon was watching him intently, eyebrows cocked. “I don’t know what I want, and I don’t want to die, so please don’t kill me for bein’ indecisive.”

The demon huffs. “I’m not going to kill you.”

The oven dings, and Bitty moves the demon out of the way, bodily. “Hang on.” He dons oven mitts, and pulls the tray out. The cookies, despite all of the work he’d put into making sure ol’ Betsy wouldn’t fritz out on him for this, are burnt.

Beyond repair.

Bitty resists the urge to screech. Instead, he slams his mitts down, and clicks the oven off. “I wish this damn thing wouldn’t burn anything. I don’t know how many times a week-”

“Done.”

Bitty stops mid-rant, and looks at the demon. “What?”

“Your wish. It’s done. Your oven won’t burn anything anymore.”

Bitty frowns, and looks down at Betsy. He stares for a moment, pondering, and then looks back up. “That wasn’t going to be my wish-”

“It’s too late to take back.” The demon interrupts.

“But.” Bitty glares. “I’m not mad.”

“So-”

“But I also don’t have a third wish.”

The demon looks even more cross now, eyebrows folded as far down his forehead as they’ll go, the inky black of his eyes only barely visible through his squint. “You’re incredibly annoying.”

Bitty’s protest fall on nothing but his kitchen appliances, as the demon disappears once more.

He sighs, and begins mixing a new batch of cookies, despite his flight leaving in less than four hours. If the universe was gonna give him an oven that never burns, like hell he’s gonna wait another week and half to try it out.

And, true to the demon’s word, the cookies come out a beautiful golden brown, the likes of which he’s only made once on his moomaw’s oven back home.

“Well, sure as shit,” he says, hands resting on his hips. Guess I can’t pretend it’s a dream any more, he thinks, picking up a perfectly crisped cookie and biting into it, letting the chocolate melt over his tongue while he thinks about what else he could possibly wish for.

The demon comes back a few days later, and Bitty’s sick of referring to him as the demon. “What’s your name?” Bitty hands him a plate and sits across from him across his island bar.

The demon looks puzzled. “Why?”

“Because I feed people,” Bitty says, taking a bite from his own plate. The recipe was an old family one he’d been playing with on and off since he got to college, but never had the oven to get the temperature just right.

Until now, that is.

The demon sets the plate on the counter, and delicately sits down, as if he’d never been in a chair before. “No, my name. Why does it matter?”

Bitty rolls his eyes. “Because I like to know who I’m working with.”

“You won’t know how to pronounce it.” The demon picks up a fork, and jabs it into the pie, the crust giving the smallest of satisfying crunching noises.

“Try me,” Bitty says, setting down his own fork onto a now-empty plate.

The demon utters a noise that makes Bitty lean back in his chair, and wiggle a finger in his ear, trying to get out a ringing that isn’t there. “Uh.”

The demon settles a look on him, cool blue eyes, normally void of any emotion, now showing a hint of smugness. “I told you.”

Bitty sighs, and stands up. “Fine. So what do I call you?”

The demon falls quiet, and when Bitty looks at him, he looks deep in thought. Bitty waits, quietly cleaning up the results of his latest test in the meantime. “Jack.”

Bitty rolls it over his tongue, mouths it quietly to himself. “Why Jack?”

“My name is equivalent to that in English, in terms of how common they both are.” The demon — Jack — shrugs. “Plus, I like the way it sounds.”

Bitty hums. “Fair enough, Jack.”

“Do you know-”

Bitty interrupts Jack before he can continue. “I don’t know what I want to wish for, yet. Sorry.” He feels only slightly guilty.

Jack’s gone before Bitty can even finish the sentence.

Jack comes back, again and again, every time with the same question: Has Bitty figured out his third wish?

And every time, Bitty gives him a slice of pie, or a cookie, or something. Eventually, Jack starts eating them too. And Bitty stalls for as long as possible, asking Jack relentless questions to make him stay.

Do you have horns? “No, not usually.”

Why aren’t you red? “I can be, if you want,” Jack says, his skin tone rapidly changing to match that of a particularly vibrant strawberry. And then back, because Bitty won’t stop laughing at him.

What did you go to hell for? “What do you mean?” Aren’t demons all sinners that went to hell? “No, I was born there, like you were born on Earth.”

Jack’s answers are reluctant to come at first, he grumbles about how he shouldn’t be answering any of this, and then answers them anyway. He starts to stay longer each time before he asks Bitty if he’s figured out his third wish, and lingers before disappearing.

Bitty, for all he’s been trying not to, is liking Jack more and more by the day.

On the fourth, maybe fifth time Jack appears, Bitty’s back home in Georgia. It’s Christmas Eve, and he’s nervous for tomorrow. All his relatives come over to the house, and though they love him, they don’t understand him.

It’s “the gay thing,” as his mom’s uncle calls it. “Hate the sin, love the sinner” is a motto in their family, when applied to him. They don’t understand it, and he still gets asked about a hundred times every Christmas if he’d found a girlfriend yet, despite the fact that he’d been out for half a decade now., as if one day he’s just going to decide he’s not gay anymore.

He thinks he hates Christmas.

He’s in the kitchen, kneading dough brutally, when Jack appears beside him. Bitty tries to smother a shriek.

“Have you-”

Bitty throws a towel at him. “Be quiet,” he hisses, glaring. Jack looks taken aback, but he stays quiet.

Bitty sets the dough to rise until morning, and tiptoes back to the guest room, gesturing for Jack to follow.

Jack does, footsteps not even making the wood of the old house creak in the slightest, something Bitty had only achieved after years of living here and sneaking out at night, a practiced sort of silence. Bitty’s almost jealous.

Bitty shuts the door behind him as silently as he can, and wheels around to face Jack. “What are you doing here?”

Jack looks confused. “The same thing I always am?”

“How do you know where I live, though?” Bitty folds his arms across his chest.

Jack’s confusion grows, visibly. “What? It’s you.”

Bitty makes a noise in the back of his throat that prompts Jack to continue. “I don’t need your address. I just find you, and go there.”

Bitty frowns. “Oh.”

Jack looks around the room, and then sits on the bed. He looks… worn, in a way that he usually doesn’t. It’s only been a few weeks, but Jack looks five years older, and tired. Bitty sits next to him. “Are you okay?”

Jack’s eyes settle on Bitty’s own. “No,” he answers, blunt.

Bitty takes in the rings around Jack’s eyes, how rumpled he looks. He looks… human. “What’s wrong?”

Jack drops his eyes, and fiddles with the edge of his suit jacket. He always wears the same thing, a gray suit over a light blue shirt and black tie. It brings out the blue in his eyes, Bitty notes, and then promptly tries to forget. “Demons shouldn’t… be on earth. This long.”

Bitty’s concerned frown gets deeper. “Why?”

“We’re not meant to take this long. I’m supposed to get what I need from you, and then go back for the rest of my life.” Jack meets Bitty’s stare again. “We only get one contract in our lives, and it’s never supposed to take this long.”

Bitty feels guilt sink in his gut, twisting his insides ragged. “Oh.” He settles a hand on Jack’s cheek, and rubs a finger under Jack’s eye, as if he can smudge the circles out. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t want to pressure you.” Jack’s eyelids flutter closed, and he lets out the smallest of sighs. “The magic won’t work right if it’s not something you want.”

Bitty gnaws at his bottom lip, thinks. He still doesn’t have an idea for a wish, and it only makes the guilt worse. “I’m sorry.”

Jack opens his eyes, but doesn’t lean away, doesn’t push Bitty’s hand away. “Don’t be,” he whispers.

Bitty feels like they’re on the edge of a precipice. He leans in.

Jack meets him halfway, and they’re kissing, soft, slow. Jack’s hand finds Bitty’s hip, slides up under his shirt. Bitty cups Jack’s face, fingers curling through the strands of Jack’s hair.

And then it’s over. Jack pulls back, looking startled. He stands. “I have to go.”

Bitty reaches out a hand. “Wait-”

Jack’s gone, with an audible pop, and the air is sucked out the room, leaving Bitty alone. He presses his fingertips to his lips, and thinks.

Jack doesn’t come back until the day before the new semester, almost two weeks after Bitty gets back from Georgia. He looks even worse now.

“Hi,” Bitty says, and hands him a plate. “Try this.”

Jack is silent, but takes the plate and sits down. He makes a noise of approval at the spongy cake, uniced but dusted with powdered sugar. “S’good.”

Bitty smiles. “Thanks.”

Jack finishes the cake, not offering up anything more until he finishes. He opens his mouth to speak, and Bitty holds up a hand. “Wait.”

Jack frowns, but lets him continue. “I’ve been thinking. About my wish.”

Bitty’s fingers tap against the edge of the counter. Truthfully, he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since Jack left last time, running through his mind all of the possibilities. He could wish for anything in the world, and Jack would give it to him.

“Do you like hell?”

Jack lifts an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just answer it.”

Jack shrugs. “It’s alright. Cold.”

Bitty hums. “I want-”

Jack interrupts him this time. “You don’t.”

Bitty gives him a look, frustration creeping in. “What?”

“Whatever you’re about to wish for, you’re doing it because you feel guilty.” Jack stands, and meets him on the other side of the counter. Bitty had known Jack stood over him since the first time they met, but he hadn’t realized how severe the height difference was until now. Jack towers. “Don’t say what you’re about to say.”

Bitty steps closer, angry now. “You can’t stop me from wishing for what I want.”

Jack leans down. Over the course of the several months since Bitty’s pie incident, Jack had gone from emotionless, robotic, to something more, something emotive and less and less other. He looks angry now, and Bitty’s never seen this one. “I can’t, but I’m asking you don’t.”

Bitty huffs, and pulls him down. Jack meets him easily, submitting to Bitty’s angry kiss. Bitty pulls away. “Fine.”

Jack’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. “Good,” he says, and leans back in.

Jack stays for the longest time yet, before he says he has to go. It’s been almost an hour of talking mixed with more, and Bitty doesn’t know what to with their newfound closeness.

Jack disappears, leaving Bitty sitting on his kitchen counter, dazed, confused, and a little bit in love.

Jack comes back, again and again, but he stops asking Bitty if he has his wish. He spends longer at Bitty’s side each time, learning how to bake, watching movies.

He looks worse every day, by small increments.

Jack doesn’t seem to mind, but Bitty’s guilt only grows. He can’t think of a third wish, and he’s too selfish to try, because if he does, Jack will be gone, forever. He’s told Bitty he goes back to hell, and “gets unmade,” which Jack makes sound boring. His purpose, Jack says, once filled, makes him useless, and so he’ll disappear. “It’s the way demons are,” he says, false cheer in his voice.

Bitty’s terrified by the idea.

Jack stays over more and more, and falls asleep despite telling Bitty demons don’t technically need to. He looks like he does, though, dark circles under his eyes almost purple, clothing in disarray, though different every time, now. Jack shows up in t-shirts more often now, and Bitty comes to find he has terrible fashion sense.

It’s three in the morning the first time Bitty realizes he’s in love with Jack. Jack’s arm is curled around his middle, skin warm against Bitty’s bare chest, soft breath making the back of his neck tingle.

“Shit,” Bitty whispers, frozen. He’s in love with jack. He loves Jack.

Jack, who can’t lattice a pie for shit, who thinks yellow running shoes and green shorts are acceptable as an outfit. Jack, who’s laugh sounds halfway between a high pitched giggle and goose honk and is still endearing anyway.

Jack, a demon who will disappear once Bitty gives him his third wish.

Bitty starts to shake, anxiety building and choking him. He doesn’t know what he wants, he can’t want anything because what he wants is Jack, here, alive, and for the rest of his life.

Jack stirs beside him. “Bits?” His voice is sleep rough. He props himself up on an elbow. “Y’okay?”

Bitty nods, fighting back tears. “Bad dream,” he mumbles, squeezing his eyes tight and trying to make his internal chant of Jack is going to disappear and you’ll never see him again stop.

Jack leans down, and presses a soft kiss on Bitty’s temple. “M’sorry.”

Bitty turns in his arms, pulls him into a real kiss, and tries to put all the feeling he can into it. “It’s okay.” he whispers back, stroking a thumb down Jack’s cheek. “It’ll be okay,” he says, trying to convince himself of something he knows he can’t.

Bitty withdraws. He can’t do this anymore, can’t hurt Jack like he has been. The longer Jack’s on Earth, the more ragged he becomes., the more sleep he needs, the more food he eats. It makes him better temporarily, but Bitty knows it’s only a band-aid. He has to make a decision.

But for Bitty to end that, he’ll also be ending Jack entirely. Jack begins to notice when Bitty withdraws, begins only visiting every other day, and then once a week.

Bitty makes it to finals week before he breaks. Jack’s visiting for the first time that week, and he’s pale. His hands shake, and he sounds like he has bronchitis, voice scratchy and a cough constantly lodged in the back of his throat.

Bitty breaks down, tears flooding down his cheek as he curls into a ball. Jack looks alarmed, tries to soothe Bitty in between coughs. “Jack, Jack stop.”

Jack pulls back.

Bitty wipes his cheek. “We need to talk about my wish.”

Jack sighs, and folds his hands in his lap. He looks resigned. “I know.”

Bitty draws a shaky breath inward. “I don’t know what I want, but I need to want something.”

Jack nods. “I know.”

Bitty scoots closer, and twines their fingers together. “Please, tell me what to do.”

Jack shakes his head, smothers another cough. “I can’t. I can’t influence you like that.”

Bitty pushes Jack’s hair from his forehead, locks their eyes. His skin is clammy. “I wish you could stay.”

It’s like the room freezes. Jack sucks in a breath.

It’s then Bitty realizes what he’s said. “Oh, no.” He’s panicking. “That doesn’t count, does it?”

Jack stares at him, and then gulps. “It can. If you want it too.”

Bitty stares back, mulling it over. “What would that mean for you?” He can’t believe he hasn’t thought of this possibility, of using his wish to make Jack whole again. “Will you be sent back?”

Jack frowns. “I… don’t know. No one’s ever done that. No one’s ever taken this long.”

Bitty squeezes his hand. “Please, tell me it would work.”

“I don’t know.” Jack pulls his hand back. “I have to go. I’ll… I’ll be back.” To the sound of Bitty’s protests, he disappears.

Bitty barely makes it through finals. His grades aren’t amazing, but he graduates. His parents come up for the ceremony, but he can’t even muster up enough cheer to enjoy it. He answers every question about campus, about the football team, all in a voice void of any emotion. His mom gives him worried looks all throughout, and finally pulls him aside after what’s supposed to be a celebration dinner, but feels more like a funeral.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” She looks concerned, in a way only a mom can. “You just graduated, aren’t you happy.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. I’m just tired, I guess.”

She smiles, sadly. “You upset it’s over?”

Bitty winces. He’s not upset school is over. He probably killed Jack with a careless word, and there’s nothing he can do to get him back. “Yeah,” he lies.

She pulls him into a hug. “It’ll feel better eventually. You got that job at the bakery lined up, don’t you?”

He nods in agreement, but doesn’t think it’ll ever feel better.

He pulls up a list of romantic comedies a friend from one of his economics classes had given him a while ago. Adam had said it was his “cheer up” list, and Bitty finds himself, if not feeling better, at least distracted.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at your ceremony.” Bitty yelps, pauses the TV, and turns around. Jack’s there, behind him, dressed in another suit.

He looks the worst he’s seen yet. His skin is pallid, and he looks starved. Bitty’s eyes burn with unshed tears just looking at him.

“Jack?”

Jack smiles at him, a wide smile Bitty’s never seen before, still tired, but alive. “I’m sorry I took so long. I had to do some research.”

Bitty hops off the couch, and wraps him in a tight hug, which Jack returns happily. He’s lost weight, and Jack’s arms around him return his hug weakly.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He looks up at Jack. “How long do you have?”

Jack’s face drops into confusion. “What do you mean?”

Bitty looks away. “You have to go back, right?”

Jack puts a hand under Bitty’s chin, and tilts it upward. “Tell me your last wish.”

Bitty shakes his head, eyes refusing to meet Jack’s. “I can’t. You’ll be gone.”

Jack repeats himself, more forcefully. “Tell me your last wish.”

Bitty shoves backward. “No! Jack, if I do, you’ll be gone.” He leans against the back of the couch, and folds his arms across his chest.

Jack kneels, and forces Bitty to look at him. His blue eyes are wide, pleading. “Bitty. Bits.” He grabs Bitty’s hand. “Eric. Please.”

Bitty gives up. He can’t do this anymore, can’t cause Jack any more pain. “I wish you could stay.”

Jack grins. Before Bitty’s eyes, Jack’s skin flushes back to a healthy tone. The exhaustion he’d been wearing like a cloak for the last few months falls off his shoulders. In less than a minute, he looks like the Jack from the first time Bitty saw him.

Bitty drops to his knees as well, takes Jack’s face in his hands. “How?”

Jack pulls Bitty into a kiss, and if Bitty wasn’t already on the ground, the sheer force of emotion wafting off Jack would have put him there. “Your wish.”

Tears spring to Bitty’s eyes, happy this time. “You can stay?”

Jack stares at him for a second, and then nods. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Bitty pulls him in. “Forever,” he whispers.

Jack explains to him that he’d had to search through records of previous deals. There had only been one wish made before, asking for a demon to stay on Earth, after much the same situation had happened as Jack and Bitty’s. “There was precedent for it,” Jack says to him, after telling him the story. “All I had to do was ask.”

Apparently, not many demons fell in love with humanity (with a human, to be more specific) the way Jack had.

Jack gets more and more human as the days pass. One day he wakes up, and the faint rings of etchings into his skin, the marks that made him demon, have completely faded. Bitty hadn’t been able to see them, but Jack knew what this meant. Bitty’s wish had come true.

Next Christmas, he brings Jack home, and when his aunt asks where Bitty found such a good man, they share a small, secret smile. “I wished for him,” Bitty says, and leaves it at that.

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part eighteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of +sex

word count: 2k

series masterlist

“Sam and I will take the bunk beds.”

The room was a decent size. It was definitely bigger than Sam’s dad had made it sound. A large window on the back wall flooded the space with natural light and offered a view of the city below. By the door was a small fridge and a countertop with a sink and a couple of burners built in so that guests could cook their own meals. There was a queen sized bed jutting out from the western-facing wall and built into the adjacent wall were two twin-sized bunks, one on top of the other, making the room feel... cozy.

Harry and Tom traded looks with each other.

“Kidding.”

The boys visibly relaxed and chuckled awkwardly.

“If I ever have to share a bed with Tom again it’ll be too soon,” Harry sighed.

“Is that any way to treat your big brother?” Tom scoffed.

“I’m taller than you.”

“For now.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean? You’re twenty-five, you’re done growing.”

Tom shrugged. “Yeah, but I could always make you shorter.”

“Oh, what are you going to do, cut my legs off?” Harry challenged.

“I never said that.”

“Jesus Christ guys,” Sam said, finally cutting in. “Can we not threaten each other until we’ve had at least a few hours of sleep?”

“Whatever,” his twin grumbled, kicking off his shoes by the door.

Tom slung his backpack onto the top bunk and pulled his sweatshirt off over his head, exposing a strip of his stomach in the process. You looked away instinctively, hoping that you hadn’t drawn any attention to yourself while doing so.

“You always get the top bunk,” Harry whined.

“Yeah, because I’m older.”

“That’s not fair!”

“My brothers are actually ten years old,” Sam explained to you, raising his voice so that you could hear him over the bickering.

“No, I think ten-year-olds know how to take turns,” you said dismissively, not missing the glares from the other two Hollands.

“You’re right,” Sam agreed. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and sighed. “Reminds me of the family vacations we used to take. The six of us used to share one hotel room when we traveled.”

“Four boys... I don’t know how your mom did it.”

“None of us do.”

“I thought we were going to sleep,” Harry muttered from where he was already laying down on the bottom bunk, clearly irritated.

“Give us a minute to settle in, dude,” Sam shot back before dropping into a whisper. “It’s going to be a long week.”

You shook your head, putting your hands on his shoulders. “Everyone’s just cranky because they’re tired,” you reasoned. “We’ll get some sleep and then grab some food and then maybe they’ll be in a better mood.”

“You don’t know them like I do,” Sam warned.

“That’s true, but won’t they tone it down since I’m here?”

Sam snorted. “Wishful thinking.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever, I’m going to hop in the shower. I feel gross after being on a plane for so long.”

“I’ll go after you,” Sam replied with a nod. “Let me know if you need anything.”

You thanked him with a kiss under the watchful eyes of his brothers who both groaned in protest.

“Oh, fuck off,” Sam growled against your lips.

“By the way, sharing a bed doesn’t mean you get to mess around because I don’t want to hear that shit.”

“Harry!” Sam and Tom shouted, Tom going as far as throwing a pillow at his younger brother from the top bunk.

“Just being honest! We heard you going at it like rabbits when you had your own room, and I didn’t say anything about it then-”

“Harry.” To your surprise, it was Tom who cut him off, raising another pillow in warning. Thankfully, Harry took the hint that time and shut up, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance.

You smiled to yourself with the knowledge that your little Easy A stunt had worked, and looked over to see that Sam was wearing a matching smirk. He winked at you before turning to glare at his brothers.

“On that note, I’m going to shower,” you said, mostly to Sam, and made your way over to where you had dropped your suitcase by the door.

You gathered a set of pajamas to change into and then wandered into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind you. It was one of those rolling doors so you had to be extra careful not to knock it off its hinges or the track and cause even more noise than necessary. You set your change of clothes on the counter next to the sink and began to undress, leaving your worn clothes on the floor.

The shower was kept in a room separate from the room with the sink and vanity, something you had read was common for Japanese washrooms. Inside the second room was a bathtub with a complicated looking panel next to it. With a closer inspection you determined it was used to fill the bath with water and customize the temperature. The showerhead was secured to the wall just to the side of the tub which meant you would have to hold it while you showered, but you didn’t mind. You were used to holding the showerhead for... other reasons.

Your shower was quick. You didn’t want to take too long when you knew other people were waiting for it. You were drained too. Even as you dried yourself off with a towel you could feel your arms start to get heavier.

You wrapped your hair in your towel and put on your pajamas shortly after, trying not to cringe at the way the fabric clung to your still-damp body. Usually you wouldn’t get dressed in the bathroom right after taking a shower because it was always so humid and sticky, you’d go out in the bedroom to do it, but as Sam’s girlfriend the latter wasn’t an option. So you dealt with the discomfort and ventured back into the main room.

It was dark now. Someone, you assumed Sam, had pulled the blackout curtains shut so that the daylight could no longer stream through the window. Harry was already fast asleep, but Tom and Sam were still awake, scrolling through their phones on their respective sides of the room.

Sam was perched on top of your bed, resting comfortably. He wasn’t underneath the covers, probably because he knew you didn’t like to share a bed with someone who hadn’t showered.

He smiled when he saw you and pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“Shower’s all yours,” you said.

“Thanks.”

You watched him rifle through his suitcase for pajamas and then eventually disappear into the bathroom before finally flinging yourself onto the bed. You still needed to take your hair out of the towel and brush your teeth, but you took a moment to just. Lay there.

Tom didn’t acknowledge you, hadn’t so much as looked at you since you came out of the bathroom, but you still found yourself looking over to him.

At the airport he had seemed at least a little concerned that he would have to share a room with you. Even in the cab to the hotel he kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. But now he looked completely relaxed and you were second guessing yourself. Maybe you’d been projecting. Maybe he hadn’t been anxious at all.

You, on the other hand, felt like you hadn’t been able to exhale since Dom had announced that you’d be sharing a room with Sam’s brothers.

It had dawned on you as soon as you stepped into the hotel room that you’d never be able to let your guard down. Before this point you had at least been able to take breaks, retreat to your hotel room with Sam and be yourselves without worrying that one of his family members was around. You hadn’t needed to keep up the act 24/7, but now you had no other choice. It was only for a week, but you knew it was going to be exhausting. You weren’t even sure that your current performance was believable, and that was without all of the more intimate interactions couples had in private. The good night kisses, the cuddling in bed together, falling asleep in each other's arms, the good morning kisses, all things you’d have to take into consideration. Most couples you knew moved in harmony, like they were one person, half of a whole. You and Sam were more like the hands on a clock. You were always moving in the same direction, and once in a while you’d overlap, but more often than not you were facing each other on completely opposite sides of the clock. It was what made you such good friends. Best friends. But what would make you terrible lovers.

To be fair, a lot of people misunderstood your dynamic, which you had been using to your advantage. They assumed that since you were always together you were basically the same person- and they weren’t necessarily wrong. You and Sam spent a majority of your time together. You knew each other well enough to finish each other’s sentences, to voice aloud what the other was thinking before they even said it.

The vibration of your phone next to you disrupted your train of thought. It was a text from Sam.

Can you come here rq? I need help lol.

Confused, you pushed back the covers and stood up. You dropped your phone back on the bed and walked over to the bathroom, keenly aware of the way Tom stiffened in his bed.

You rolled back the door and found Sam standing in his boxers next to the tub.

“What is it?” you asked, shutting the door behind you.

“How did you figure out the shower? I can’t get the water to be hot.”

“This is what you called me in here for?” you said, exasperation dripping from your voice.

“Yes! I don’t want to take a cold shower.” He said it like it should’ve been obvious.

“Did you try messing with the knobs? That’s how I figured it out.”

Sam’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he pursed his lips, thinking about how to answer.

“Not all of them,” he admitted.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Sorry?”

“It’s the one on the left, dumbass,” you said and twisted the knob for him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to fuck up the shower or anything.”

Men, you thought to yourself shaking your head.

“I’m going to bed,” you told him. “Before your brothers think I’m in here giving you head or something.”

“Let them think what they want,” he said, shrugging it off.

“I want to preserve what little amount of respect they have for me, thanks.”

Sam just chuckled and thanked you again as you let yourself out into the room with the sink. While you were there you hung up your wet towel and brushed your teeth with your finger and the toothpaste the hotel provided. You were too lazy to go get your toothbrush out of your bag.

“That was fast.”

You jumped, hand racing to your heart when you realized it was just Tom. He was still in his bed, but had rolled onto one side so that he could talk to you.

“You scared the shit out of me!” you hissed.

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry. “What did my brother want?”

God damn it, Sam.

“Why do you ask?”

Tom shrugged. “Just wondering.”

“He needed help figuring out the shower,” you explained.

“Glad he has you for that.”

You narrowed your eyes at the boy in the top bunk. He was trying to get under your skin. Why?

The ball was in your court. You could be the bigger person and let it go, or-

“He has me for a lot of things.” You pushed your tongue against your cheek so that there was a visible outline and brought your fist up to your mouth, moving it back and forth subtly so that he’d get the idea without being too obscene. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?"

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

forever tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped-blog @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz @sleepybesson @everythingbooknerd @sunshine96love @bitchymathematician @livingincompletesilence @melsbooktrash @swim-deep-or-die @fizzy828 @spider-slutt @theamuz @nedthegay @astroasethic @stuckonspidey @darlingtholland @sgtbookybarnes @tinyplanet-explorers @dragonage2011 @uglypastels @gen-tlehoe @devin-marie @r-wooooosh @hell-yeah-peter-parker @itssnowingandimstuckinside @relise-thefury @osteporosis @legendsofwholock @peterunderoos @fuckyeahhomerun @nobelwarriorheroes @delicately-important-trash @thwip-it-real-good @claryfray101 @gioandrolli @tomhollandseverything @cool-ultra-nerd @marajillana @dinasaur36 @farfromhaz @hanlons-wp @moon-390

@parkerstylesperalta @httpchrisevans @screeching-student-unknown @almondholland @noisyzineeggsbandit @5sos-microwave @quackson-love @smilealways19 @quackeroos @softholand @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @wolvesofthewinter @mukesnugget @mytonycinematicuniverse @itsjusttor @percysmcu @peterquillzblog @lovewolfspirit @love-sick-blues @quacksonhehe @biebsmylife95 @a-disappointing-teen-author @justanotherusername80 @b-buckys @sunkisseddreamer @hufflepufprincess24 @princessxcryxbaby @tinyyoungblood @holyfrickfracks @amii-nyc @clara-licht @veryholland @captainamirica @ultrunning @cocoamoonmalfoy @nellbellzz-blog

@bookfrog242 @nellabellaa @its-the-solar-system @spiitfiires @tomhollandfangirl1 @parkeromanoff @randomstufflol29 @pogueslandia @hollandswife @bunnyweasley23 @determined-overthinker @spideywebshooters @madz-hargreeves @hi-yekaterina @rinaaaa334 @elishi03 @abcxrandomx @hiraethenthusiast @pottergirlinlovewithademigod

send me an ask to be added/ removed from a taglist

[i-need-air]

Hybrid!AU Wolf!Bakugou Katsuki HCs Part 2.

Summary: Part 2 is here! While in part 1 it was mostly adoption and how he'd behave with you as a roommate, part two is him ✨ realizing things ✨ followed by how he'd be in a romantic relationship.

Word Count: 2k words [ oops, I did it again ]

Notes: So I said it'll be out in a few days but three [3] people asked me for part 2 and I'm a sucker soooooooo!! I could've just written a long ass fic but whatever, I thought I'd make it shorter in headcanons... hah lol right. Enjoy!

Part 1 here!

× he's a wild wolf so he's very active; like you need to understand he needs to go outside if not he'd get impatient, more aggressive, snappy, so once you took him on an easy hiking trail near your house and he loved it so once or twice a month you both go together to different places [ he demands it ]

× it's hard to keep up with him bc he's literally genetically engineered to be better than any very fit human being but he slows down for you

× morning runs at 5 a.m. bc he's insane

× is also a grandpa

× watched all documentaries on any streaming platform you could provide to him, also loves reading

× as months pass and you start to have your routine in order, word comes to you that an acquaintance is looking for a security guard at his mechanical shop two streets away from your house

× you casually mentioned it to Bakugou because he was starting to act anxious whenever you'd leave the house, so you assumed he was extra bored

× seriously, the house was spotlessly cleaned, he cooked amazingly and was occupied with your old laptop and going around the city to explore, but you guessed he wanted more independence?

× little did you know you were right but so wrong lol

× so Bakugou stared at you intensely and asked "Where?"

× it was as easy as telling him the location, him nodding and you thought he'd consider it; you didn't put any pressure on him because he already did so much to help around anyway

× well guess what bitch, next day he comes up to you saying you gotta co-sign his contract [cuz fuck society] meaning he got the job

× he was perfect for it because tall, intimidating, muscular wolf guy? who'd even mess with him? do they have a death wish?

× well, even before this he started to be... soft

× but once you really did show him you support whatever he wants to do, you give him his freedom and liberty of choice, he just reaaally changes, man

× he gets touchy, like his hands stay one second longer on your skin, he uses any excuse to have them on you, even his eyes follow you everywhere

× like c'mon, it's obvious but you didn't wanna put too much thought into it because we're respectful here

× not like you had a big fat crush on him and slowly started to realize it too

× sike bitch he knows

× you think his super-hearing didn't catch the way your heartbeat spikes up every single time he touches you? *please*

× i think he knows before you know

× meanwhile he is working to discover his feelings too

× so your relationship slowly turns into a couple's like relationship but without anything official and of course no kissing or such [ sadly ]

× would get jealous easily

× basically because nothing is talked between you two and deep down is insecure

× why the hell do you smell like other people? was it just a hug or something else? hell, why would you even hug people when he's right there??? just ask and don't touch some extras????

× another thing he does is getting very close to you while you talk to somebody else; scoffs and glares at them too

× ok so!! gifts! he really appreciates any gift you give him but scolds you if you do because you genuinely don't need to do that

× of course he just scolds you and calls you an idiot so I do hope you already learned his language

× it basically means that you shouldn't have done it, he's really grateful but seriously you shouldn't have

× like that one time you saved up money to get him a good computer and he forgot how to speak for like an hour

× the softest thank you ever afterwards

× still sounded rough but he was shocked as fuck

× one thing that remained in your brain were his friends, as sometimes he'd mention them

× so you took it upon yourself to find them, of course with his permission

× gets genuinely overwhelmed and plays it off saying he wouldn't mind knowing where those idiots ended but you didn't miss the way his voice trembled

× for you to find them you needed names and any information he could provide so that's when he, after a long silence and a mesmerized look on his face, started really talking about his life

× which was fucked; won't get much into detail but he was indeed in a fighting ring, people came and bet on whoever was stronger, he even had to fight his friends, everything was filled with abuse and their conditions were subhuman...

× just overall awful

× you couldn't help but hug him tight, feeling him shake in your arms

× with a hesitant voice he asked if you really did think there was a chance to find them

× just couldn't believe how amazing he felt in your arms

× or how your determination that night made his heart clench and took a big weight off his shoulders

× anywho;;;; after his first paycheck he takes you out on cute dates

× never calls them that, just demands you dress up [helps you out cuz boy got style] and takes you to a nice coffee shop or something

× AND on your fifth not date cuz you're not official but there's this weird tension between you date he finally kinda s n a p s

× you honestly didn't expect the waiter to flirt with you, he came out as very pushy and even if you were a lil uncomfortable you smiled and brushed it off

× when the waiter suggested giving you his number the sandy blond hybrid growled

× which i shit you not made the whole coffee shop freeze

× and you froze too

× but neither of you could say anything because the oblivious fuck kept talking

× basically joking about how you should keep your pet in a leash, to which you got up, threw some money on the table, grabbed Bakugou by the hand and leave before he'd rip someone's head off

× it only took you to touch Bakugou's arm to calm him down as he followed behind you wordlessly

× so you stood outside, angry, deep red eyes on your figure

× and silence

× his hand still in yours

× it was warm and amazing and you felt angry but your heart was beating loudly; angry at the waiter that you wanted to go full Karen on and get fired but excited because that growl shook you to the core, as if you could tell it was territorial and it was because of that pig flirting with you and did Bakugou Katsuki just lace his fingers with you?!

× "Oi." he interrupted your thoughts

× he turned your frame towards him and pulled you [kinda harshly] into him

× you'd make a comment about it but brain empty, just Bakugou Katsuki blushing

× "You're mine, you get it?"

× skdjflglykshs

× it sounded like he asked but it was a demand so oops you're his now ok bye

× like I said, boy isn't dumb so he lowkey knew you felt something too

× legit from there on he's just soft as fuck

× has a hard time opening up but visibly tries for you

× still continues to be a pain in the ass, Bakugou Style, but with a loving teasing attitude behind it

× his eyes give him away all the time

× they shine whenever you're in his field of view so congrats because, and this is the best part:

× WOLVES MATE FOREVER 💕💓💞💗💝💟

× oh yeah, he's yours, no takebacks

× he isn't one to half-ass the relationship; you're his now and he'll do anything for you

× big time touch starved it hurts

× because he is shy

× so whenever you introduce him to hand holding and cuddles, he can't get enough

× not big on PDA [ and not recommended since human-hybrid relationships are kiiiinda frowned upon but it's getting better ]

× although at home it's another deal

× seriously cuddle him; he's big into the protector vibe so he's a big spoon almost exclusively unless it's to sleep on top of you

× speaking of! accept that even if your relationship isn't that intimate, he'd still hint about sleeping together in the same bed

× so you better catch on when he does because he'll just click his tongue and call you needy

× while dragging you to bed

× sleeps holding you, his nose in your hair or in the crook of your neck

× unless it's summer then stay on your side 💅

× you know those kisses that just scream "I can't get enough of you"? that's his whole kissing vibe in a sentence

× hell, even the gentlest kiss gives that vibe away and it'll 100% leave you breathless

× doesn't have experience but is a very fast learner

× pays very close attention to your body language

× really into biting your skin enough to leave marks

× wear his hoodies

× no, I'm fucking serious, wear them now

× his chest puffs and he turns into a blushing mess when you do it the first times because his scent is on you

× scenting is a big thing for him so of course he's gonna love it

× 10x more territorial because now he has a mate to protect

× jealous but trusts you

× still very jealous though

× let's all pretend he is definitely not scenting you before you go out because it's in his nature and it is embarrassing

× the first time he tells you he loves you it's when he's feeling vulnerable

× the search for his friends is still on-going, he feels less than adequate as a providing mate, is pissed at the world for treating him like an inferior animal when they created him, everything is piled on his shoulders and whenever than happens he closes off

× you notice immediately

× will not tell you at first

× it's only when you go to bed and he turns his back to you when you really know it's bad

× even if you fought before, he'd angrily snuggle you at night-time

× now it's so different

× hug him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear, pull a blanket all over you both and big spoon him, he'd start shaking and talking in no time

× will hide his tears from you but you'd know

× "You're the best fucking thing that happened to me, [Y/N]... I—... Shit... I love you so much."

× neither of you slept that night

× excuse you? drink some water and pray to jesus;;; you talked about feelings, ok? communication is key in a relationship, puh-lease

× [ i have this whole nsfw hcs post already cookin in my brain so maybe I'll make it happen cuz y'all know he has a mating season and all that comes with it 👀 ]

× back to being children of jesus here

× thanks the moon, the heavens and all the gods for putting you in his life; boy didn't believe in destiny but deep down he thinks you were meant to be

× you still better wash the dishes or you'll get your ass kicked.

Extra:

× you did find some of his friends, little by little, and even if he acted nonchalant, like k das cool, it was obvious he was extremely happy

× so they did get adopted too

× you got in contact with them on social media and they were all very excited about meeting

× so it was a chaotic meeting with a dog hybrid called Kirishima and a mouse like vibrat yellow guy called Kaminari

× they all were looking for Bakugou too since they were very worried about where he ended

× Kirishima shed manly tears when seeing Bakugou

× as they instantly welcomed you in their small group, they informed you both that the majority of the squad was adopted and they're in contact, while they're still actively looking for the others

× cue to the softest expression you've seen on Bakugou in public followed by "That's good"

× silence

× shock and silence

× Kaminari turning to you and whispering "You did this" with a hand on his heart, lips trembling as he wiped an imaginary tear

× insert instantly snappy Bakugou

× when everyone laughed and continued to make plans to meet up with the others, he just looked at you conversing with them, soft expression again on his features and his chest warming

× "Oh! Look, he's doing it again! Quick, take a pictur—"

× "SHINE!"

[junisfics]

Heavy Petting ft. Armin Arlert (Day V)

Focus: Heavy Petting

Warnings: Sexual Contact / Nsfw 18+

Word Count: 2k

They’ve been gone for three days, they should’ve been back within a few hours. Where the hell are they?

Armin left with the others days ago to go on a supply run. Days. This trip should have taken them only a few hours to get done. They’re on horseback, they should’ve been back ages ago.

“Stop sulking around waiting for them to get back, they most likely came across a live town and are trying to trade or something...” Eren explains.

He can’t blame me, how am I supposed to sit around doing nothing while Armin- they’re out there practically begging to be eaten alive. 

I pace Mikasa and I’s shared room in the cottage, Eren sitting on her bed as I walk from door to window and back again.

“You need to drink or something, you’re livid.” He says.

“You need to stop acting like youre completely unbothered. I know it pisses you off just sitting here, you hate being excluded from helping.” I spit back.

“You’re just acting like a bitch because you don’t have an eye on Armin for once,” He stands up, “You’re obsessive.”

“I-I am not! I- at least I care! You let Mikasa be a suicidal hero for you and you sit around doing nothing in return!” I shout at him

“She’s just chopping wood, you need to relax.” He groans

“She was just thrown around, she needs to rest!”

“They’re back.” He mutters.

“Shut up you bastard- wait what?” 

He stares blankly at the window before turning and making his way down the hall and downstairs. I’m on his heels, practically shoving him down the stairs before pushing past him. I hastily push open the door too see them getting off their horses and stabling them.

“Armin... Armin!” I cry out. I see his blond hair whip around as he turns to face me. He’s tying his horse back up into her stable.

“y/n! Sorry, we ended up getting turned around, it took a little longer than ex- oh.”

His sentence is cutoff as I run up to him and practically throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, his own make their way around my torso and I hold myself flush against him.

“We were only gone a few days, are you alright?” He asks, speaking into my hair.

I let go of him and take a few steps back to look at him. His hair is coated in sweat and dirt that sticks to his forehead. It’s obvious they came in contact with a few titans, the give away being the cuts and bruises that litter his hands and face along with few rips in his clothes.

“Yeah, sorry. Are you?” My hands prod at him, inspecting any possible injuries I missed before. I take his hands in mine, examining the surface cuts. Then, I take his face in my hands and shifting it slightly to look over it. My eyes get caught at a thin gash below his left eye.

It was supposed to be just a little supply run, to get food and medical supplies, that’s it.

“Ah-” He grimaces, jerking back at my touch. I let go of him.

“Go wash up then meet me in the kitchen. I need to clean it.” I gesture my head to the house

He disappears off to the backyard where the water spout is and I make my way back inside, a little to quickly for that.

He’s alive. He’s alive. Relax, y/n.

I through the kitchen cabinets for my medical box. I’m pulling things and shoving things around when I realize I had leant it to Jean.

“Jean!” I shout

“Jesus, y/n, I’m right here, what do you want?” He sets down what I assume to be a sack of potatoes onto the counter.

“Where’s my med bag?” I ask.

“I put it in your room, under your bed. I didn’t know where else it’d go.”

It’s right where he says it was. I take it apart and pull out alcohol, gauze, needles and sutures. I lay it out accordingly onto the bedside table. Staring at it, shifting each tool an embarrassing amount of times.

Relax, he’s fine. He’s here.

“y/n?” Armin says, rounding the door frame. 

His once dirt soaked hair is now clean and wet, messily hanging into his face. His shirt clings to his still damp skin. In the absence of the dirt I can now see bruises littered across his jaw and cheekbones. His forearms are all scratched up as well.

I pat beside me on the bed gently. He closes the door quietly and takes a seat beside me. I pour a bit of alcohol onto a gauze pad and hold him by his chin to keep him still. He winces when contact is met.

“Sorry, sorry” I mumble, wiping and patting at the gash below his eye.

When It’s as clean as I think it can get I reach for the sutures and tweezers, pushing it through the damaged skin as gently as I possibly can, “I’m sorry, I know”

I can feel his eyes boring into mine and I grow obviously uncomfortable as I try and complete my work.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks suddenly. His voice quiet, nervous.

I look down to his lips, a slit in the bottom one, then into his eyes. Slowly and sheepishly, I nod, letting my tools drop to the floor.

His lips meet mine, cold but soft. He takes my face in his hands and my own drop from his and reach around his neck to toy with his still damp hair. 

My heart lurches out of my chest, his fingers gently tracing the skin of my cheekbones. His touch is overwhelming and I feel my own skin growing hot. I grab at the front of his shirt, twisting it into my fist to pull him closer. 

I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about kissing Armin, actually, you’d have to be stupid to think I haven’t. 

“I- closer, come closer... please.” Armin mumbles quietly, his hands pulling at my waist.

I hesitate, but only momentarily, then make my way closer, shifting inch by inch before something inside him snaps and he pulls me atop him. Our lips detach and my forehead rests against his, my legs straddling his waist but he remains upright, his back up against the wall.

“Armin..” I’m out of breath, my chest noticeably raising up and down with every pant.

“Fuck, just kiss me.” He pleads and I do. I tilt my head down so my mouth meets his again, this time with more passion.

His hands skim up and down my sides and back, touching almost any place he can without overstepping his boundaries. He needs more, I can feel it. It’s almost too much to handle, my body and senses completely flooded by him. He’s everywhere all at once.

I shift slightly to be flush against him my hands still around his neck, pulling him closer. His grip drops to my hips and squeezes them harshly before taking in a sharp inhale. Before I can kiss him again he tilts his head slightly so our noses bump together.

“You- God- you can’t do that... please.” This time he’s the one out of breath, overwhelmed and his skin hot.

My eyes closed and lips still searching for his as he pleads.

“You don’t- God, y/n, stop fucking moving.” He hisses, sitting up even more so to where his nose is in line with my jaw.

Hearing him swear is a rare occasion, let alone multiple times. It’s captivating, the sexuality of his frustration is so incredibly attractive.

His breath is hot on my neck, I can feel his lips tracing gently before kissing the tender flesh. My eyes flutter shut and my mouth drops open, a shiver goes down my spine and to my center.

Oh. 

Tiny whimpers leave my lips and I feel his tongue lick up my jugular.

“Armin,” I breathe.

“I don’t want anything from you, just this... please.” His voice has dropped a few octaves.

It’s so much, but so not enough. I feel stupid, completely dumbed by him. My head is clouded and all I can even think about is him, his lips and his touch. His fingers are gentle as they slip under the hem of my shirt to tickle the skin there. Another pathetic sound escapes my mouth.

His hips shift and a wave of pleasure ripples through me. 

“Armin, I-I can feel you.” I giggle quietly and he pinches the supple skin of my hips.

“Shit, I’m sorry- God” He groans into the skin below my jaw and ear, “It’s just- you’re just perfect.”

He sucks gently on my skin, marking the surface with little nips and bites every so often. The warm and wet gliding of his tongue along my skin has me shaking in his lap and every move I make I can feel him beneath me.

My hands rake down his chest and stomach then up under his shirt. The muscles of his stomach tense beneath my fingers. I never expected Armin to be so muscular, yes he’s rather lean but my fingers can feel the obvious divots between his abs. 

As my hands feel over his hot skin, his chest begins to rise and fall at a more rapid pace. His once innocent hands begin to sheepishly travel towards my backside. I try to encourage him by arching my back ever so slightly... and I wouldn’t say that hurt our situation but it definitely didn’t... help.

A groan rumbles deep in his chest as I do so and his grip on my lower back releases so he can grab my face and pull me away from him. My hands rest on the bare skin of his chest as he looks into my eyes and holds my jaw between his hands.

“You drive me insane.” He says under his breath, more to himself than to me.

His thumb follows the dips and mounds of my lips before finding resting tenderly against the center of my bottom lip. He uses his thumb to pull it down before letting it flick back up.

I try to lean forward to catch his lips in mine but he holds me still. A tiny smile upturns the corners of his lips as I try again with no prevail, only bumping the tips of our noses together once more. My mouth hangs open faintly, begging him to kiss me again.

I dig my nails into his bare chest, scratching gently.

“Ah-shit” He hisses, his eyes fluttering closed and head resting back against the wall.

“Kiss me, please.” I whisper, “Please.”

He blushes, pulling his head off the wall and looking into my eyes. I will never be able to get over how absolutely beautiful he is. The cool depths of his blue eyes are captivating; the gentle rises and falls of the bone structure in his face, the flexing of his muscles with every movement is so incredibly alluring.

He taunts me, leaning in then leaning out once I do the same. His pretty teeth showing with every smile.

I open my mouth and poke out my tongue, taking it and reaching to lick at his open lips. He twitches beneath me and I snicker quietly.

“Hey y/n! Have you seen Armin, Eren wants- oh!” Sasha pushes open the door and I scramble off of him, stumbling to the floor and taking a seat there. 

“Eren! I found him!” She calls to downstairs, then returns to us, “I knew it!”

christmas special taglist ;

@0inkawa @avaraykeil @flxwie @tartsandanime @aliviaothk402 @stardustsayornos @narcolepticstorm @capkatie @drxcomvlfx @malfoymikaelson @sambucky8 @softkidinlove

( if your user isn't grey pls check your privacy settings )

[thebigoblin]

Sterek Fic Recs Part 3

[You can find the first two lists here: Fluffy Sterek Recs & Sterek Fic Recs. Also here's a special fic, check it out]

First off, thank you all for a 100 followers!! As of September 7, 2021 you've made me feel really, really good about my obsession with two oblivious idiots (with sprinkles of the hale pack and other fandoms), and this is my way of thanking you ♥️

If you're on PC, you can see that there is a page dedicated solely to fic recs, which caters to other ships & fandoms too. So don't feel left out if you're looking for something other than Sterek!

Without further ado, let's get to it then!

an awful curse

Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.

"Isaac," Derek says.

Isaac snaps awake immediately.

"You're-"

"Where's Stiles?"

"Stiles?" Isaac asks.

Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.

AU - Canon Divergence | 6.3k | By blinkiesays

Throw Away The Key

Stiles knew it was stupid to go to the hunters’ headquarters all by himself, so when he finds himself caught, he can really only blame himself.

It shouldn't surprise Stiles when the situation quickly goes from bad to worse as the hunters throw him to a feral werewolf waiting to tear him apart.

Sucks that it's Derek, though.

AU - Canon Divergence | 5.9k | By mommymuffin

Whatever Happened Last Night, Why Did Glitter Have to Be Involved?

Derek rolled out of bed in search of his phone - quickly finding it in the pair of jeans that had evidently been tossed aside haphazardly on the way to the bed. Seeing the pants sparked flashes of memories - wolfsbane-laced alcohol, loud music, multicolored lights.

Peter’s new supernatural-friendly club - the pack had gone to the opening night party.

He unlocked his phone and opened the pack group chat, which Erica had affectionately named ‘Moon Sluts’.

>>Derek: What the fuck happened last night

[or: Derek wakes up with three things on his mind: he feels like he was punched by a troll, his mate is missing, and there's glitter covering his bed. Oh, and the pack group chat is mildly helpful]

**

Prompt #159 - “Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.”

Crack Vibes | 1.2k | By ash_mcj

Good to Eat

So if Stiles married Derek Hale, he could become Jewish too? Perfect. It was settled. Stiles gleefully shoveled a forkful of cheesy shells into his mouth.

"Uh oh. I know that look.” Claudia shook her head.

"Don’t worry, Mom, ” Stiles said, reaching for his plastic Batman cup.

"I’ve got a plan.”

"Good luck, Derek Hale,” his mother muttered.

Rude.

AU - Childhood Friends | 1.7k | By Jmeelee

Murder Brows and Avoidance Tactics

Derek gets the wrong end of the stick.

Written for prompt: "You're jealous, aren't you?"

AU - Everybody Lives | 2k | By Dragonink13

Double Vision (only registered users can read this one)

"So what caused my hearing and sense of smell to dull?"

Deaton's brow furrowed, all amusement vanishing from his face. "What do you mean?"

Derek snapped, letting loose all of his anger and fear at the man before him. "I mean I can't hear your heartbeat or the cars down below or the birds in the attic! I can't smell the flowers in Mrs. Everett's apartment, I can't smell the rotting burger in the fridge that Isaac left in there a month ago, I can't smell or hear anything like I normally can!" Deaton mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Can you explain that?!"

 Tumblr Prompt: Derek jealous of himself.

AU - Everyone Lives | 6.1k | By Novkat21

Kiss?

Derek likes kissing Stiles, honestly he does. Until he doesn't.

Fluff | 3.6k | By clotpolesonly

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

--

(aka - Five TImes Scott Found Derek and Stiles Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn't)

AU, Supernatural is real but not known by everyone, Alive Hale Family | 11.2k | By Little Spoon

Call Me (Cliché)

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

AU - Canon Divergence | 84.6k | By Orphan_Account aka the author has dissociated themselves from the fic

Shiver

Stiles has really, really cold hands. Luckily, Derek knows just what to do about that.

Established Relationship | 1.7k | By canistakahari

Derek Hale's Possible Heart

An anon sent me a sterek prompt for Laura teasing Derek and Stiles joining in, then somehow sharing their feelings for each other in the mess of things.

AU - Canon Divergence | 4.3k | By loserchildhotpants

What's a Secret Identity?

Stiles sipped at a mug of coffee, absently watching the news play in the break room. Because of course a news station couldn't play anything other than its own content, even in the one part of the office that was supposed to be a safe space from work. His interview with Superman was making a rerun and Stiles glanced at Derek before commenting absently, “I’d totally let Superman fuck me.”

Derek, who had been in the middle of a swig of coffee, choked violently, “That’s not something I needed to know at nine in the morning, Stiles.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What time would you prefer I tell you about all of the things I would let Superman do to my body?”

AU, Derek is Superman | 7k | By Chrystie, imabignerd and kate882

i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars]

But her big brother’s unwillingness to touch anyone, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it isn’t the only thing she notices. She also notices how Stiles doesn’t touch him.

Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

He’ll be trying to shimmy past Derek and instead of putting a hand on his arm like most of them do, he’ll reach out with a hand and stop it scant centimeters away from Derek’s skin.

Or they’ll be walking alongside each other and Stiles will hover a hand on Derek’s lower back.

It’s both fascinating and tragic to watch, like NASA lost control of one of their robots and instead of it landing on the moon it’s fated to gravitate around it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 2.3k | By crossroadswrite

Déjà Vu

There’s a shop in Beacon Hills that no one knows anything about except that the mysterious proprietor, a witch in whispered circles, knows what you need before you do and that the things given are always just what you need.

Derek, lost after a breakup, heads into the shop to see if he can find something to help him forget his ex. The witch gives him a potion to drink, and when Derek wakes up, he finds he’s sixteen again and there’s a new student at his school, Stiles Stilinski.

Everything is familiar and yet not, and Derek finds he’s strangely drawn to Stiles in a way that is entirely supernatural.

AU, Supernatural is Real | 8.8k | By gremlins-came-and-got-me and StaciNadia

Start Small, Like Oak Trees

The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful.

He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 24.2k | By SmallBirds

Undercover K9

As it usually goes, Derek acts before he thinks. This time he has a good reason, though-it's all Stiles' fault. Mostly.

Or, that time when Derek volunteered to spend all his spare time as a wolf with the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Office K9 Unit, just to protect Stiles' dumb ass.

Future Fic | 17.9k | By Cobrilee

Rose Colored Glasses

“Obviou—um, what? Derek?” Stiles managed. “What? You’re not colorblind. You’re colorblind?”

“Yes.” Derek said gruffly. “And?”

“And? What do you mean and? You can’t see colors?” Stiles demanded, thrown. “Does it—what kind is it? Red-green? Blue-yellow? Why doesn’t—oh my god, is this why your entire freaking wardrobe was completely black until like two years ago? Oh my god!”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a favorite color, Stiles.”

Established Relationship | 2.2k | By SassyStarboard

1,460 Days (gotta clean my slate)

Two years after Scott becomes Alpha and Derek gives it up for Cora, Stiles gets hurt during a fight and ends up in a coma for two weeks. According to the nurse, a guy has been visiting him every day and, as much as he wishes it were Derek, it sounds a lot like Scott. Except he and Scott aren't even friends anymore.

AU - Canon Divergence | 10k | By army_of_angels

This is it for now. Happy reading y'all! ♥️

[havin-a-wee]

Stars Align

pairing: harry styles x y/n

warnings: fluff, ig you could consider it angst but its really just mysterious

word count: 2k

hello! i apologize for kind of disappearing, my fic rec account has kind of blown up and ive been super busy with that.

this is my entry for @sweetlygolden 's Harry On Holiday Challenge! i chose strangers in the same city, and the line prompt “That is the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen.” i honestly already have a part 2 planned out but we'll see how it goes!

“How much longer are you going to stare at that pretending like it’s interesting.”

Her soft voice surprised him, and he whipped his head around to see who had been speaking to him.

For the first time in a while, Harry was able to get away for a little. Of course, he travels a lot for work, but this was the first vacation since he can remember where he was alone, doing whatever he pleases. He chose Italy for this special occasion, because it’s always been one of his favorite places, and he missed the freedom of wandering around the boot shaped country without a care in the world.

The day's adventures had brought him to La Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, which is a museum that he's been wanting to see for quite some time. He started the day off by getting a cappuccino and a crespelle from a wonderful little cafe down the street from his hotel.

Right afterwards he walked to the museum, taking in the sights around him on the 20 minute trek to his destination. Before the woman behind him snatched his attention, he was staring at a painting of an abstract house. The house was only painted in blue, and the artist had used the different shades and tones of the color to create the details in the painting.

He had been staring at it for a good amount of time, which he assumed is what prompted the stranger to talk to him.

It’s his 3rd day on the trip, leaving him 4 more until he has to be back in L.A. for work. He has no plans, no schedules, no job to do. It’s just him and the world. At least, that’s what he assumed it would be. The vacation is supposed to be a solo one, however, he’s currently staring at a stranger that decided to speak to him. And for some reason, he is drawn to her. Compelled to spend time with her after just a simple sentence was spoken between the two of them.

When he fully turns around she jumped, a bit startled by his bright red complexion. “That is the worst sunburn I have ever seen!”

It was true, Harry had managed to get himself a nasty burn on the first day in Italy. He usually tans instead of getting a sunburn, but when you’re used to the dreary weather of the UK, it can be hard to forget how strong the sun is in other places.

So he had laid out on the beach and fell asleep, waking up a few hours later with tomato red skin and a burning sensation covering the exposed skin.

“That’s what happens when y’fall asleep on a beach in Rome,” he chuckled, smiling awkwardly at the woman before him.

She’s beautiful, there is absolutely no denying that. She was wearing a simple spaghetti-strap black dress that cut off right at the knee. There were no designs, no embellishments, just a black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her lips have a deep red lipstick smeared across them, and he couldn’t help but notice how the color complimented her skin tone. Her simple black pumps completed the outfit, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few of the front strands falling out of the hair tie and framing her face.

“I’d assume so.” Her demeanor is serious, even though there's a smile on her face. She’s…..intimidating?

Harry hasn’t been intimidated by anything since he was a teenager. Once you perform in front of thousands of screaming people, who also happen to idolize you, things don’t tend to phase a person anymore.

But for some reason, her presence caused butterflies to fly around in his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. He actually enjoyed the feeling, it reminded him of when everything was normal.

What also reminded him of normality was the fact that she seems to not have the slightest clue of who he is. If she does, she’s sure as hell good at hiding it.

“You’ve been looking at the same painting for 10 minutes, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep.” A small laugh escaped her lips, and the noise agitated the fluttering butterflies residing in his tummy. Her voice is mesmerizing, and she sounds like what Harry imagines an angel to sound like. She has an American accent, and it eased his nerves slightly that she was also a tourist.

He turned back to the painting to look at it, but it was also convenient in that she wouldn’t be able to see his undoubtedly flushed cheeks.

“Yeah m’not sure what it is ‘bout it but there’s somethin’ special with this one.”

“That’s Prismi lunari by Fortunato Depero, he was very talented.” Harry spun around once again to face her, shocked at her knowledge of the random artwork.

“You know that off of the top of your head?” He tilts his head and looks at her, furrowing his brows in confusion. He’s pretty sure there was no label for the painting, and if there was it was way too small for her to see from where she’s standing.

“I know a lot of things.”

The statement was simple, but Harry wondered if her words paired with the smirk on her face are code for something else. “How long have you been here?” Her question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her and smiled. He flicks his wrist and directs his attention to it, reading the Gucci watch adorning his wrist.

“Well I got here at 11, so about 5 hours.” It honestly surprised him when he realized it was 4 o’clock, but he knows how wrapped up he gets in artwork so he must have lost track of time.

“Jesus christ! I can barely stand to walk around a museum for an hour!” She blows out a puff of air, mocking being out of breath. They both laugh at her comment, Harry laughing a bit harder than her. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! M’Harry, s’nice to meet you.” He stuck out his ring-clad hand, and her delicate fingers wrapped around his as she shook it.

“Well Harry, wanna get out of here and walk around with someone who knows the city?” She points at herself, and the small smile she gave him earlier transformed into a silly grin.

“Well m’not sure how well an American can know the city, but I’ll bite.” Usually he would never do this. Going off with strangers is never a good idea, especially because of his status. But there’s something about the girl that makes Harry feel safe. They had just met yet he feels like he could trust her with things he hasn’t even told his best friends.

“An American who’s been living here for a year, that is.” His eyebrows raise slightly, intrigued by her new admission. But before he can even open his mouth to speak, she grabs his wrist with her daintily manicured hand and whisks him out of the quiet museum.

The air was humid, quickly drawing beads of sweat from his forehead. He’s also quite baffled at how she was completely unphased. Not a single drop of sweat was dripping on her body, her soft skin untouched like an old porcelain doll, preserved for years in perfect condition.

“I’ll show you around a little, we can go to this wonderful little vintage store I know.” She had turned to face him, her hand moving from his wrist to cup his one hand in both of hers. “Um- at least, if you want to.” For the first time, she was nervous. Although she will never admit it, Harry makes her extremely nervous. Extremely.

When he turned around when they first met, her jump of surprise wasn’t just because of his bright sunburn. In fact, it wasn’t about that at all. It was about how fucking attractive he is. He really looks like one of the statues that was put up in the museum. His sparkling green eyes send a shiver down her spine, and the tattoos peaking through his thin white t-shirt cause a fire to build in her stomach.

Having someone to talk too while he traversed the streets of Rome is a lot more enjoyable than Harry had anticipated. He purposefully told all of his friends that he was going to be MIA while on this trip. But the fact that she is a stranger changes it in some way, in a good way.

The cobblestone streets are surprisingly smooth, and they walk next to each other in a comfortable silence for a long amount of time. The silence would only break when she would point out something in their field of vision. At one point, Harry pauses, standing still in the middle of the street with a thinking look on his face. He realizes that he doesn’t know her name, which seems ridiculous to him because they were walking around a foreign country like the best of friends. She turns to him, matching his confused look when they lock eyes. “I just realized I don’t know y’name.”

Instead of reacting like he would expect one to react when asked that question, her pupils dilated and for some reason she appears to be scared. Why would someone be scared when you ask for their name?

‘Maybe she thinks her name is embarrassing’ Harry thought, still looking at her with a confused look, but now it was laced with a bit of suspicion.

He watches her sigh, and her hand went up to her ponytail and pulled the black elastic out, her soft hair cascading down her shoulders. With another sigh she said, “Y/N. My names Y/N.”

“That’s a really beautiful name.”

“Oh! There’s the store!”

He found it odd that she was so eager to switch the subject, but goes along with it nonetheless.

The vintage store is lovely, and Harry was able to find a beautiful ring and necklace set, matching gold roses on both of them. They looked around the shop for about 15 minutes, Harry being the only one to make a purchase.

The sun had set by the time they went outside, which isn’t surprising considering that it was almost dark when they walked into the little shop. They stood, facing each other outside of this small little shop in Rome. Two strangers, who just happened to cross each other's path. Harry knows this won’t last forever, and he also knows that he wants to see her again. In a leap of faith, he pulls the gold necklace out of the small brown bag and looks up at her.

“Here, I got them so we could match.” It was bold, but Harry feels connected to this girl, and he doesn’t know it, but she feels the exact same. The smile she gave him when he handed her the necklace was bright and genuine, the creases next to her eyes proving its authenticity. He motioned for her to turn around, wrapping the necklace around her neck and clasping it while she held up her hair.

“Thank you Harry. This is the best day I’ve had in a while.”

“Likewise.”

“I hate to do this, but I have to go. Have a wonderful rest of your trip Harry.”

It was then that she placed a small, tender peck on his lips, barely lingering for a second before pulling away.

“Wait! Can I get y’number?” Her smile slanted into a smirk, and she pulled a small card and a pen out of her small black clutch. She placed the card up against the brick wall, leaning it against it and scribbling something down on the paper. When she finished writing, she pressed her lips against the card, handing it to Harry.

He looked down at it, expecting to see a series of numbers, but he was met with a simple note, scribbled on the piece of cardstock next to the red lip print she had left.

May the stars align in our favor once again. - Y/N

He looked up frantically, planning to ask her to write her number down as well, but he was met with nothing.

She had disappeared into the night, leaving as quickly as she appeared earlier that day.

[chil2de]

How are you today? If its alright with you, can I request a Atsumu x fem reader where she has a super tomboy style and ALWAYS wears baggy clothes, but one day atsumu comes over to hang out and the only outfit she has left is kinda a tight fitting shirt and for the first time ever Atsumu realizes just how curvy his girlfriend is

sorry if thats to specific! feel free to ignorethis!

warning - miya atsumu x reader

hiii! i’m doing okay anonie, thank you and i hope u are faring well!!! so um this ended up being a LOT longer than i expected pls forgive me it was supposed to be a cute lil drabble but now its like uh 2k words aJdhfhhd, i really loved this idea!!! don’t worry ab it being too specific i actually like that and it helps give me a general idea about the req

well whilst this isn’t tooooo nsfw there are a few small themes in the beginning + swearing since i write atsumu like that and implications of sexual content ig at the end but aside from that? just some fluff for our fav king. characters are aged up and i am unsure how it would work but call it anime logic and enjoy! thanks for requesting! (okay rereading the ending is lowkey smut why am i like this)

“b-cup.” atsumu huffed with confidence. he took a large swig out of his water bottle, nodding his head wisely in affirmation.

“really? i’d say c-cup.” suna chimed in, his half-lidded gaze narrowing.

“nah, it’s b-cup”

“what the hell are you two talking about?” osamu interjected, concern and disgust thick on his features as he came over carrying a few towels.

“(y/n)’s bra size” suna nonchalantly responded, his eyes flicking up for a few seconds as he accepted the towel from osamu.

“‘tsumu i knew you were messed in the head but, suna? have you caught his germs?”

“fuck are you making it sound like i have some viral disease?”

“you don’t?” suna snorted, plopping down onto the floor to sit cross-legged.

“why don’t you just ask her?” osamu’s gaze flickered onto yours from across the court. you felt your ears burn from the way the three of them were staring at you.

was something on your face?

a bug? dirt?

“huh? like i’m supposed to say, hey baby girl, what size are your tits?”

“i’m still saying b-cup”

“c-cup”

“i think b-cup” osamu joined in, watching atsumu screw his face at him

“you goddamn hypocrite-“ “who’s being a hypocrite?” kita inquired with a half-hushed tone, making his way over with a few protein bars

“oh my god i’m going home” atsumu groaned, resting his palms on his knees as he stood up. he beelined towards you, his exhaustion painted his lazy smile beautifully. he still had the energy to turn around over his shoulder and flip his middle finger up at his team whilst his right hand snaked around to your waist.

somewhere around your waist. it took him a little bit of digging through all the fabric.

it didn’t matter to him, though. as much of a jackass as he might’ve been, he never judged you for the way you dressed. even if it meant that sometimes you looked a lil bit homeless, at the end of the day- he still had that glimmer in his eyes whenever he saw you.

you would be his favourite baby girl, no matter what.

“is that my shirt you’re wearing?” he hummed, glancing down to look at it.

it was, in fact, one of his shirts. it was matte black in colour, with a small dip that would showcase atsumu’s collar bones. it was a little bit faded from the many wash cycles it endured throughout its lifetime, but he would always notice the small tear in the bottom right section of the fabric.

“sorryyy, i know you just washed it but it smelled so nice. also, wow, did you put on deodorant? you actually smell like a man it’s kinda creepy”

“i always put on deodorant you dipshit, you’re always crying about how pretty my face looks so your nose doesn’t pick up the scent. it’s verbena citrus, buy your own because i know you’ll try stealing mine so i’m putting a padlock on that shit.” atsumu scoffed, digging his fingers into your sides to tickle you as you walked. you squirmed, swatting him away as you dug your hands into the pockets of your joggers. they were not atsumu’s, unfortunately, for you found out the hard way that you would literally have to drag the excess fabric behind you like some train dress or bundle it up and fold it, which, in retrospect- did not look too aesthetically pleasing. you settled for your own joggers and favourite high-top sneakers to match.

“you know you’ll say all this but give me your deodorant anyway, right?” you stuck your tongue out at him. he rolled his eyes, ruffling your hair.

“hey.” he called out, causing you to direct your attention towards him.

he nudged your arm with his elbow.

oh.

“give it here.”

you uncurled your left hand out of your pocket, zipping it up to make sure the contents inside didn’t spill. atsumu slid his right hand away from your waist and opened his palm up, intertwining his fingertips between yours into a tight lock. he grazed his thumb over the back of your hand, giving you a small squeeze.

“that was the cheesiest and most corniest thing you’ve done and i hated it” you made a mock gagging sound, averting your gaze.

you could feel the blush fresh on your cheeks, heart pounding in your chest like it was about to explode.

“wait, you thought i was holding your hand because we’re dating? i’m just doing it because i know your dumbass would get lost” atsumu snorted, throwing his head back in laughter.

well,

you could still see the light blush tinting his cheeks. and it wasn’t the sunset.

“mmm, should i wear this one- wait-“ you grabbed the shirt, folding it upwards as you took a small whiff. well,, you did wear it yesterday… yeah, you did put it in the laundry basket,,, no, it didn’t smell toooo bad, but..

you groaned, tossing it back into said basket as you furrowed your brows in concentration.

you heard the doorbell ring which only caused you to panic even further. you just needed a shirt. literally any shirt. you were about to cut your freaking pants out and sew them together to another pair for a shirt.

since it was a friday, you had atsumu walk you halfway home. you only lived a street away from him, and the apartment was conveniently built on a fork between the road down to his house and the supermarket. hence, he dropped you off and went to the store all by himself like a responsible adult to grab some snacks for the weekend.

“it’s open!” you called out, leaning your jaw back as you shouted in hopes for your voice to travel further.

in that moment, just in the corner of your eye- you saw a familiar flash of black.

you swooped the fabric up, quietly humming in pleasure when it smelled like laundry detergent and fabric softener.

you lifted the shirt over your head, struggling to pull it down for a few seconds.

you admired yourself briefly in the mirror.

it was a casual t-shirt. it reached down to the middle portion of your arms, though it was significantly less baggy than all of your other clothes. you liked to sleep in it during hot and stuffy summer nights, but rarely found yourself using it otherwise.

it’s not like you didn’t like these kinds of shirts.

but when given the option to look “stylish” or comfortable, who wouldn’t pick comfortable? that’s what was important to you above all. clothes that made you feel like you were constantly in bed were a godsend from the heavens.

“hey dipshit, i spent twenty minutes jumping stores for you but no one sold any (favourite drink) so i got you-“ atsumu halted in his steps, the grocery bags curled around his fists were suddenly forgotten and discarded as he caught sight of you through the doorframe.

you were clad in a pair of old white shorts and a black t-shirt, complimentary of the fact that everything else was currently in the laundry machine. atsumu could outline every single damn crevice and dip on you, and he burned that shit so deep into his retinas that he would still see it when his eyes were closed.

he felt his breath hitch, something deep inside him resonating, growing feral like hunger.

he still stood by what he said,

baggy clothes or not, you were beautiful.

but he wasn’t expecting this

“so you bought what?” you inquired, twisting your torso halfway to greet him as you finished brushing through some knots in your hair at the vanity.

“huh?”

“you said there wasn’t any (favourite drink) so you got what? did you fall and crack your head open on the way here? cause it looks like it”

you could feel your heart squeeze, body temperature increased twofold as icy hot waves wracked every inch of your skin. there was a cold sweat that rolled down the back of your knees.

“shut the hell up, i hate you” atsumu grumbled, forcing himself to turn away from you and stomp off to the kitchen with a pout.

“jesus christ give me strength i hate this woman, where the hell does she get off thinking she can get away with looking so good like that” atsumu mumbled incoherent curses underneath his breath, shakily unloading everything he bought out onto the counter and stuffing the groceries into cabinets and the fridge.

“‘samu, i hate you but dude i need twin telepathy, give me strength so i don’t deck this woman right here right now” he cursed, gritting his teeth. his self-control was about to fly out the window.

“you okay?” you popped your head through the door, leaning into the kitchen.

he could see the outline of your prominent collarbones, the way the shirt still fell a little bit and hung loosely off of your frame. he could see the start of your stomach.

god, it should’ve been illegal the way he wanted to grab your thighs. he wondered for a second what it would look like with his fingerprints etched into your skin there.

“want a few tissues and some lotion?” you snorted, nestling up beside him to help. you gazed at him, watching him keep his eyes narrowed on the packet of pistachios he was fumbling with.

you thought it was cute.

“listen- if you’re not ready yet then i’d suggest that you find something else to wear cause holy shit if you don’t get away from me right now i swear i will not restrain myself-“

“i’m ready” you hummed, giving him an innocent smile. you toyed with your hands behind your back, fiddling with them as butterflies swept your abdomen.

atsumu snorted, eyebrows creasing in confusion. he turned to face you, setting the pistachios down.

“alright i’m not saying this to boost my ego, but, what did you say?”

“i said i’m ready”

you watched his brain stir, gears ticking and turning like clockwork.

atsumu let out a low sigh.

“yeah, yeah. well, then.”

his right hand slammed against the wall, caging you in. he leaned into you, looming over you as his half-lidded eyes burned holes inside your soul. you felt the air tense and switch around him, carnal desires swirling behind his gaze. his chest was so close to yours, practically flush, save for the tiniest gap. you could literally feel his heart hammering.

he was so invasive, so close, yet so respectful. he still kept his distance, just n case you changed your mind.

“are you sure this is what you want?” his voice was hot and slick against the shell of your ear, voice husky and octaves deeper. you could feel the sexual tension dripping from him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against him.

“i’m sure, ‘tsumu.”

a loud chuckle ripped from the depths of his chest. it was so hearty, and fuck, it made you clench.

atsumu swooped you up all in one swift motion, hands hooking underneath your thighs as he shoved you against the counter. he sent everything clattering and thudding in the process.

“don’t say i didn’t warn you, doll.”

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

wooobuddyletsgetnasty’s 2k celebration 🎉

PROMPT 6: 

“So.. you come here often?”

KIBA:

He was staring. You could feel his gaze on the side of your face, but he hadn’t spoken to you. It was endearing really, the way he’d look away with a bright blush on his face each time you’d try to catch his gaze. You wished he’d just come talk to you, but alas you really didn’t think that would be happening anytime soon.

It was frustrating. The little game of cat and mouse. If he’d catch your gaze, you could wave him over. The problem with that was, he wouldn’t. Of course, you could always take things into your own hands. Being new to this village didn’t give you your usual nerve though, you didn’t know anyone. No friends, I mean, unless you count the little old lady that owned a shop.. but you didn’t think she’d encourage you to go talk to the boy that had been ogling you all night.

Maybe she would have. You didn’t really know, but either way.. you were here to try and make a friend, and he seemed like he could be one! So, you steeled your nerves, and you moved to stand next to his table. His gaze finally caught yours, and you found yourself unable to say anything. This time you were ogling him, and you couldn’t help it. Hastily, you swallowed against the nerve in your throat, “So.. you come here often?”

You wanted to run away.. a pickup line? God, you hated yourself, and now you were sputtering, trying to reword your sentence, but you stopped short. His shoulders were shaking, oh Jesus. He was laughing at you. Your cheeks burned hot, but you didn’t get the chance to leave, “Yes, actually. I do come here often.”

YAMATO:

He’d been drinking again. You knew he had, he had told you that he was going out for drinks with some friends, but you’d never expected him to come home, for lack of a better term, shitfaced. Granted, you should have known better. Yamato doesn’t ever drink lightly, but you had hoped that maybe this time it would be different.

It wasn’t, and now you were dragging your very drunk, man-child to bed with you. He’d insisted multiple times that he was fine, and that he could stay up a little longer. You knew better. He looked like he might fall asleep on the couch at any second, and you didn’t want him to fall asleep there. You definitely weren’t strong enough to drag him to your bedroom.

It was more of a fight than you’d thought it would be. He was trying to make a break for it when you were removing his shoes, his hands were trailing along your face when you were attempting to pull his pants off. He was a nightmare. You thought breifly about locking him in a choke hold just long enough to put him out cold, but decided against that.

Now, as you laid in bed with him, he was giggling like a maniac, and you instantly thought about strangling him again, “Yamato! Go to sleep!” He shifted, bed moving with his weight, “Hey.. So.. you come here often?” Was he.. was he hitting on you?? For fuck’s sake, “Yamato, I live here, and we are literally in the same bed right now.” You could hear the excitable gasp that ripped from his chest, “I live here too!” Yes.. you were going to strangle him.

[spencereliotwinchester]

That Summer Storm Chapter Two

Title: That Summer Storm Chapter Two

Chapter Title: Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

Author: Kat

Reader Gender: Female

Word Count: 2k

Series Summary:

Jensen kept his eyes on the floor, but nodded his understanding. He was too scared to look up into the guard’s face; he didn’t even trust his voice not to break. He didn’t look up until he heard the click-lock sound of his door. The room was very small. Along one wall was a set of metal-framed bunk beds. The far wall had a small desk with a stool. Opposite the bunk beds was a toilet and sink.

He sat down on the bottom bunk, head in his hands. I shouldn’t be here, I’m only fifteen, the thought ran through his head on a loop. This was not how his life was supposed to go. Jensen rubbed his knuckles into his forehead, hard. The sobs of his mother would haunt him. It had been all he could hear the entire van ride back to juvenile hall.

Warnings: There will be feelings!

Chapter Warnings: Solitary Madness, anxiety attack

Catch Up HERE

A/N: Little bit longer of a chapter. Next one may be a bit shorter. Please please please reblog or let me know what you think!!

Character: Jensen Ackles

---

Tags:

@iwantthedean@lyarr24@janicho88@deans-baby-momma@sandlee44@mrswhozeewhatsis@blacktithe7@torn-and-frayed@the-jette-blog@supernatural-jackles@sacriceria@siospins@negans-lucille-tblr@eve-loves-apples@myinconnelly1@mariekoukie6661@stoneyggirl2@thisisallicansay@jjrp-obsessed67@amyzombie1013@mrskcreeves95

---

The door click-locked shut and Jensen pressed himself into the corner of the room. He was hyperventilating and failing to calm himself down. Pressing his entire side into the cool wall and squeezing his eyes shut, Jensen tried to block out everything except the feeling of the wall. It barely registered that the door to the room opened and shut again.

“What are you doing?” It was the same voice that came to his rescue out in the yard, though it sounded reproachful. Padalecki moved around the room for awhile, pacing, then Jensen heard the top bunk bed creak. “Don’t let Roger catch you like that. He’ll throw your ass in solitary-”

“There’s too much space!” Jensen gasped. He slid down the wall, crouching in the corner.

“Jesus, did Tito dose you or something?” The bed creaked again, then there were footsteps coming toward Jensen.

Jensen started trembling, thinking back to Padalecki’s words: “he’s mine.” He’d heard stories about detention centers, stories that made his skin crawl. Now here he was, about to live through it. Instead of the rough hands Jensen had expected, a blanket was wrapped around him, tightly. The pressure around his body let him relax, finally. Jensen opened his eyes and was met with the hazel-brown eyes of his roommate.

Padalecki was tall, taller even than Jensen. He was lean and well built though. His eyes were hard, though, unkind, which was completely unmatching his actions. Padalecki had the blanket in his hands, pulling it as tightly as he could around Jensen’s body.

“Chill out, will you, Jensen? Fucking stupid name, by the way,” Padalecki said, rolling his eyes. He tied the blanket and moved away from Jensen, climbing back up to the top bunk.

Jensen moved to his bunk, slowly. He curled up as close to the wall as he could. He pulled the blanket tightly around him.

“It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea, that a maiden there lived whom you may know by the name of Annabel Lee; and this maiden she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me,” Padalecki’s voice was soft as it drifted from the top bunk. “I was a child and she was a child, in this kingdom by the sea, but we loved with a love that was more than love - I and my Annabel Lee - With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven coveted her and me.”

Padalecki read the entire poem in his soft, calming voice. By the end, Jensen’s breathing had finally returned to normal and he felt better than he had since he’d been arrested.

“Thanks, Padalecki,” Jensen whispered; he was unsure if Padalecki had even heard him.

“You can call me Jared,” came a few minutes later.

--May 1996--

Life at Travis County Correctional became a mundane routine for Jensen. Monday through Friday they had school and on the weekends they had more recreational time, but the schedule never deviated. Jensen and Jared had even fallen into a nightly routine, at nine pm they were sent to their room and had one hour of quiet time before lights out. They would get into their respective bunks and Jared would quietly read from his one and only possession: The Complete Tales & Poems of Edgar Allan Poe. They’d gone through the whole book at least three times, but neither of them seemed to care.

Late one night, Jensen was suddenly startled awake by the sound of laughing. It started as a low snicker but quickly worked itself up into shrieks. Jensen scrambled out of bed to find Jared sitting at the desk. He turned quickly and locked eyes with Jensen. There was no mirth in his laughter and his eyes were black and dangerous looking. Jensen’s heart was suddenly in his throat and he backed up until he came into contact with the door.

“Jared?” Jensen’s voice quivered in fear.

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious of forgotten lore - While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door…” Jared’s voice was suddenly smooth, even, and it scared Jensen even more. Jared pointed a finger at Jensen, indicating to him to continue.

“‘Tis some visitor,’” Jensen squeaked, but his voice failed him. He turned and pressed the emergency call button that was located to the right of the door. Jared started laughing again, low and evil. He was still laughing when Barney, the night guard, came through the door. Jensen threw himself into the corner.

“There better be someone…” Barney’s voice died out as his flashlight fell on Jared, still laughing maniacally.

Barney called into his radio for backup and it was quick to arrive. They carted Jared off, but Barney stayed behind. He was a middle-aged black man, with kind brown eyes, and a little extra weight around his middle. His radio crackled, but Jensen couldn’t understand a word that was said.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, helping Jensen to his feet.

“What?” Jensen’s brow furrowed.

“We gotta toss the room for drugs.”

Barney silently led Jensen through a labyrinth of dark hallways then through a door marked “Pod S.” A guard at a desk glanced up at Barney, nodded, and went back to his book. Barney prodded Jensen through a barred gate. They were now in a dead-end hallway with doors on either side. Barney opened door number one and lightly pushed Jensen inside. Barney gave him a sad, almost guilty look, before shutting the door. It click-locked with a finality that scared Jensen.

The only reason he wasn’t shrouded in complete darkness was the window in the door. The room he was in was small, much smaller than his normal cell. Everything was padded and the only furniture in the room was a small cot on the floor. A low rumble of thunder startled him and he wished he were back in his normal cell. Within minutes the building shook and shuddered from violent crackling booms of thunder. Jensen curled himself on the cot and wrapped the blanket around himself as tightly as he could.

He couldn’t sleep with the raging storm outside and his heart was still hammering from what had happened with Jared. Jensen looked around the padded room. Another clash of thunder. Jensen wondered what time it was, he wondered how long they were going to leave him here, and he wondered why they’d left him here. Jensen closed his eyes and started humming, trying to drown out the noise of the storm raging outside.

The storm was still going full force when the fluorescent lights clicked on. Six am. Jensen sat up on the cot, wrapping the blanket more tightly around himself. Soon, the door would unlock, and Roger would take him to breakfast. Jensen would welcome the sight of even Roger’s unfriendly face instead of the white padded room he was in.

Jensen counted the minutes until seven am. Nothing happened. At seven forty-five, there was a clicking sound. Jensen walked over to the door, expecting it to open. Instead, a rectangular hatch in the door was opened downward, creating a little table and a tray of food was set down.

“What’s happening?” Jensen yelled.

There was no response.

Eventually, the tray of food was taken out of the door and the hatch was closed and locked. Jensen paced the small room, seven steps, turn, four steps, turn, seven steps, turn, four steps, turn, seven… Alone. His thoughts matched in time with his steps. Completely alone. No one will come for you. All alone.

“Alone…”

Jensen froze. It had been a whisper, sure, but… It couldn’t be. Jensen took a deep, shaky breath. Get hold of yourself, Ackles, he thought. He rubbed his knuckles hard into his forehead. It was nothing, his mind was playing tricks on him.

“It is nothing but the wind in the chimney,” Jensen recited out loud. “It is only a mouse crossing the floor,-”

“Or it is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp!”

Jensen whirled around, his heart hammering in his throat again. The door to the padded cell was open and in the doorway was an old gentleman in a collared shirt, an argyle sweater vest, pressed pants, and loafers.

“Poe at his best! That’s one of my favorites as well. Care to have a seat, Jensen?”

Jensen slowly sat down on the cot, not taking his eyes off the man. Jensen realized the room was very quiet now, the storm must have died down while he was lost in his thoughts. The man brought with him a stool as well as a briefcase and he sat down across from Jensen. A young woman brought in her own stool and sat down in the corner. The door closed and click-locked.

“My name is Dr. Langstrom and this is one of my students, Abigail. I want to talk to you about what happened last night, and I’ll need to take some blood,” the man introduced himself, then took a small journal from his pocket along with an expensive looking pen.

“Is Jared okay?” Jensen chewed on his bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, now are you scared of needles?” The doctor asked and he began to take some plastic wrapped items out of the briefcase.

“No, but, why are you taking blood?” Jensen asked, holding out his arm.

“Just make sure everything’s alright with you.”

Dr. Langstrom took an alcohol wipe and rubbed Jensen’s arm. With his tongue sticking between his teeth, the doctor squinted at the needle. Then he paused for a moment, and pulled out a package of gloves and put them on. He took the needle again and pricked it into Jensen’s arm and Jensen hissed. Then, Dr. Langstrom actually moved the needle around, attempting to find a vein.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, sorry, let me try again,” Dr. Langstrom said vaguely.

“Doc, the tourniquet,” Abigail prompted.

“Yes, yes! That’s right!”

Dr Langstrom pulled the strip of rubber from his bag and wrapped it around Jensen’s upper arm. His second, third, and fourth attempts were no better than the first, however.

“Um, Doc, would you like me to do that? I just finished my lab rotation,” Abigail spoke quietly from the corner.

“Of course Abigail, that would be wonderful. I haven’t drawn blood in fifteen or twenty years.”

Abigail put on a pair of gloves and switched places with the doctor. She adjusted the tourniquet tighter and then she calmly took the needle and palpated Jensen’s arm. With one smooth movement, the needle was in and blood trickled into the waiting vial.

“Now, Jensen,” Dr. Langstrom started after Abigail finished drawing his blood. “Can you tell us what happened last night? Did Jared take anything?”

“I don’t know. I woke up and he was laughing. I hit the call button and Barney came in,” Jensen explained simply, picking at a loose thread on his jumpsuit.

“That’s all?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jensen shrugged.

“Were you attacked? Did he bite you or spit at you in any way?”

“What? No,” Jensen’s worry bled into his words.

“Good, good. Are you feeling well? No feelings of euphoria or despair?”

“I’m fine,” Jensen said through gritted teeth. “What’s happening with Jared? Where is he?”

“Good, good. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you anything about Jared.”

Jensen mulled that over for a moment. Then, his bladder reminded him it’d been way too long since his last bathroom visit.

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“I’ll let the guard know.”

Abigail and Dr. Langstrom gathered their things and knocked on the door. It opened for them and closed behind them. Then, the hatch opened.

“Present yourself to be cuffed, Ackles,” came a deep baritone voice.

Jensen slid his hands through the hatch and winced as handcuffs were tightened around his wrists. Jensen stepped back and the door opened. He was taken to a small bathroom and then straight back to the padded cell. All attempts at talking to the guard were met with stony silence. Once back in the room, handcuffs removed, Jensen sat down on the cot.

Added/Subtract from taglist HERE

Let me know what you think! Send me a message, reblog, or send an ask! However you’d like!

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Sex Week - Moanday

So the original list of these was posted by Kinkly.com on their Instagram, but i looked at it was like “that would make a great fic challenge for myself. I like writing smut and i have commitment issues so a week should be about my attention span...” and anyway... This week I’m going to post a ficlet for each day. @malzysaur​ also said she’d post some as well, but it’s not an official “challenge” unless you just want to do it for yourself some random week. Lol. Expect some fucking crack fic, some high level smut, and all those character in the pictures. I’m going to branch out and not just write Malex for once. I’m also going to try and keep these under 2k. 

Anywho, here’s my Moanday entry featuring Malex. It’s 1579 words long and if I have to tell you it’s explicit then you’re not paying attention and I no longer feel any remorse for the outcome of your decisions. Tags would be D/S undertones, dirty talk, anal sex, muffled sex, clothed sex, semi public sex, uhmm... i think that’s it?

2/8/2021 Moanday (Also on AO3!)

     It wasn’t easy fucking Alex in the middle of the day. He was simply loud at the best of times and at the worst, he was loud and mouthy.

     He also liked to get caught, liked people to walk in on him with his ass in the air, dick dripping, mouth wide with pleasure and sound, and someone’s tongue (preferably Guerin’s) shoved as far into his ass as it could go. Michael usually didn’t mind if anyone saw him reducing Alex to vowel sounds, but Isobel had asked him to be on his best behavior for the Junior League Winter Luncheon  and he was determined not to upset her…. But Alex had also asked him to meet him in the lobby so they could look at one of the paintings up for auction, which apparently was code for ‘Fuck me hard in the coat check closet until I ruin Mrs. Dunfrey’s nice wool coat’. It was a new one and he hadn’t been prepared for Alex to grab him by the lapels of his new suit jacket and pull him unceremoniously into the warm, soft confines of the coat room as soon as the coast was clear. 

    “Alex! What are you--,” Michael started, but was interrupted by Alex’s open mouth on his, tongue plunging in to make his intentions crystal clear. Michael broke off the kiss and hissed into Alex’s ear, “Alex! I told Iz I’d behave!”

    “Which is why I’m not under the dinner table blowing you while I jack off onto your shiny black shoes,” Alex retorted hotly, pushing Michael’s jacket off his shoulders as he spoke. Michael’s eyes might have rolled back into his head a little at the mental image and he missed what Alex said next. 

    “Wait, what?” Michael asked, trying to catch Alex’s hands as they deftly unbuttoned his dress shirt and moved towards his pants. 

    “I said, we’ve got ten minutes until the end of lunch when everyone will start flooding that lobby. That means you have nine and a half minutes to make me cum or we’re going to have an audience.”

    “Why did you wait so late to bring me in here?” Michael admonished, starting to get with the picture and help to get his pants down and his cock out. Alex just grinned at him and Michael cursed under his breath. 

    “I hope you did the prep work before you got me in here or you’re just going to have to wait til we get back to your place,” Michael said in a resigned, but stern voice. Alex just winked at him and turned around. Michael watched as he pushed down his slacks and underwear just low enough so he could spread his cheeks to expose his shiny, lube smeared hole to Michael’s scrutiny. Michael reached out and rubbed two fingers over the slick, soft muscle and he swore softly. Alex hummed in appreciation at his touch and Michael looked up in time to see his smug, triumphant smile as he watched Michael over his shoulder. 

    “You’re such a fucking brat,” Michael growled and pushed Alex to lean against the wall, his back arched and ass presented as much as he could while standing. “Give me the lube.”

    Alex grabbed the small bottle out of his jacket pocket and handed it back to Michael who slicked up his cock hastily. He dropped the mostly empty bottle onto the floor and lined himself up, pushing into Alex much more quickly than he might if they’d had more time. The fit of Alex’s body around Michael’s cock was tight and perfect and it made him want to waste time fucking Alex slow and deep drive just to drive him crazy, but the clatter of silverware and din of voices was only a wall away and he knew he had to be fast. Pulling back, he pushed back in hard and started a punishing rhythm. 

    Alex’s moaning started out as pants and gentle ‘oh’s that would easily be muffled by the walls of coats surrounding them, but as Michael pushed and adjusted Alex’s hips so he could properly batter his prostate, they started picking up in frequency and volume. On a particularly ringing “Jesus FUCKING Christ!”, Michael knew it was time to help Alex stay quiet. He leaned over Alex’s back and clapped his hand around his mouth to cover the next loud sound that was midway to escaping. Already the slapping sound of their bodies was too much, but Michael couldn’t quite make himself slow down yet.  He moved his lips close to Alex’s ear so he could keep his voice low.

    “You fucking cock slut. You couldn’t wait half an hour for us to get home to get filled by my dick? Couldn’t just sit on your hands and wait? Did you make Forrest fuck you all over town in every semi-private spot you could find?” Michael asked, breath and voice harsh against Alex’s ear. Alex shook his head, another loud moan pressing into Michael’s palm. The door to the banquet hall opened and Michael froze as he heard multiple voices come out into the lobby outside. Alex whimpered and started to fuck back onto Michael’s stationary cock while Michael tried to figure out if they’d run out of time or if these were simply early departees. Alex tightened his internal muscles around Michael, bringing his attention back to what was happening in the coat room in front of him, and Michael had to press his mouth into Alex’s shoulder to keep from cursing out loud at the blinding pleasure. The party guests sounded like they were right on the other side of the door that hid them and Michael was sure he was about to be found balls deep in Alex Manes who had taken his pause in movement as an invitation to  start to grinding back against his cock while squeezing his muscles and milking him for all he was worth. Alex’s actions were getting Michael perilously close to cumming and when he looked down between them, the sight of Alex’s rim clinging to his length as Alex moved over him was almost enough to make him lose it. Michael reached forward and grasped Alex’s cock firmly, keeping him spread on his dick and pressed tight against him. Alex stopped moving and waited for Michael to tell him what to do.

     “Good boy,” Michael breathed  the praise against the shell of Alex’s ear. “Since you want to do all the work, I’m going to let you fuck my fist while you bounce that ass against me. Take what you need, baby, but if you get loud, I’m going to pull out and we’re going to finish this at home. Is it a deal?”

      Alex nodded and Michael could feel his throat work around a swallow. He started slow, positioning Michael’s fist at a better angle after the first few thrusts so he could roll his hips more smoothly between the cock in his ass and the hand in front of him. Once he felt confident, he used the wall as leverage to fuck back onto Michael’s cock roughly. The precum leaking from his cock was easing the way for his thrusts and Michael could see him starting to lose himself in the moment. He was so hard as he pushed into Michael’s grip that he could tell he was getting close. When his movements started to get sloppy, either from fatigue or from getting close to finishing, Michael took back over. Roughly he pushed Alex forward until he was almost flat against the wall and then he started pounding into him. It was louder than was safe, but Michael didn’t think they’d be at it long enough to matter. Alex was already biting his own forearm as his body tightened almost painfully around Michael’s piercing ruts. 

    “You going to cum for me, baby? Going to stain these coats with your spunk so we can go home and I can take you apart some place more private? Where I can get my mouth on this poor, abused, little, pucker?” The last part Michael said through gritted teeth, punctuating each word with a hard, directed thrust as he felt Alex starting to cum. Michael milked Alex’s cock with his hand while he chased his own release, needing it now that he’d gotten Alex off. Alex was whining into his arm at the overstimulation of Michael’s savage thrusts, but it didn’t matter. Michael was tipping over into his own orgasm quickly, balls drawn tight, and cum painting his claim on Alex’s insides. When he finished, gasping breaths into Alex’s shoulder, he gently pulled back to slip out of Alex’s body. 

     “Fuck, Michael…” Alex panted, cum drunk and almost boneless between Michael’s weight and the wall. Michael looked down between them and could see his cum pushing out of Alex’s body and starting to slide down the insides of his thighs. 

     “Just look at the mess I made of you,” Michael commented, running his finger over the red, puffy rim of Alex’s hole and smearing his leaked seed over it. The sight made him want to go again and his alien biology made his refractory period practically nonexistent when he wanted it to be… but Alex’s body needed a break. He leaned forward and kissed up Alex’s neck to his cheek. 

     “Let’s get dressed so I can say goodbye to Isobel. I’m ready to go home so we can get you cleaned you up,” Michael said sweetly. Alex hummed in delighted agreement and leaned his head back onto Michael’s shoulder. 

     “Will you give me a massage when we get home?” Alex asked, voice sounding tired after their activities. 

     “I always give you what you ask for, baby.”

[be-the-spark-flyboy]

Hard Feelings

Call It What You Want (8/?)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: this slow burn is annoying even me

Chapter Summary: Thank god for Rey

Warnings: swearing, sed Poe

Word count: ~2k

It isn’t the ideal weather for a walk but Beebee seems thrilled at the prospect despite the cold. His tiny boot-clad paws pattering alongside Poe, forever his loyal companion. The park isn’t completely void of human traffic, though it’s a lot busier when it is warmer.

Poe finds a seat far enough from the road and the sound of traffic while Beebee happily traipses through the frozen ground looking for stray twigs and running in circles chasing his tail. Poe watches him play, entirely in his own world.

Poe started the day feeling anxious about talking to you. Then he was disappointed that he couldn’t get you to meet up with him. He was mad at himself for kissing you instead of telling you that he broke up with his now ex-girlfriend first. Now after seeing you with Ben is he supposed to be mad at you for letting him kiss you? It hurt seeing you with Ben and all the resentment he felt was directed towards him and not you. 

Who’s to be blamed for this? What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to feel? If there was one clear emotion he felt atop of everything else, that would be confusion.

Poe whips out his phone, dialling the one person that could make him feel better. It doesn’t take long for his dad to pick up the phone.

If only there weren’t so many miles between them. The distance isn’t new to him. Poe spent so many years of his life wishing he wasn’t so far from his dad, wishing he could just run to him whenever he wanted to instead of settling for a phone call. But that never stopped him from seeking out comfort from Kes Dameron.

The first question he asks once Poe greets him is, “What’s wrong, Poe?” Looks like nothing escapes his dad’s notice. Is he that transparent? It must be the years of experience dealing with his constant moods over the phone. Poe sighs, rubbing his temples with his free hand.

“Nothing. It’s just, there’s just a lot going on,” he answers. “How are you?” Kes recognizes the weariness in his son’s voice right away. It isn’t the first time he’s hearing it. 

“I’m fine, just had lunch,” Kes begins to tell him about his day then quickly launches into a story about how a few people from his work covered his coworker’s car with post-it notes as a prank a few days ago.

His voice feels like a warm embrace in the unforgiving cold. Suddenly Poe is taken back to his childhood home, sitting by the fireplace watching with rapt attention as his father spun tales about anything and everything.

In his presence, nothing could harm him. Nothing could stand against Kes Dameron’s dogged determination to make his loved ones happy. The events of his day slowly become a distant memory in Poe’s mind as he laughs along with his dad.

“Better now?” Kes asks after a while.

“Yeah, thanks dad,” He did feel better.

“You still don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Not right now, no,” Maybe not ever, he thinks. Would it be so bad to just forget about everything?

“I’m here if there’s anything you need, okay?” Kes offers. His words bring a smile to Poe’s face.

“I know dad, I love you,” Not the worse day. He’s had worse before, he was fine.

Beebee nudges his feet as he hangs up, bored of playing with stray twigs by himself. Or maybe he was just cold. Poe lifts the corgi onto his lap, tucking him into his jacket, his head adorably jutting out. Beebee headbutts him on the chin.

“Looks like I need a shave, huh?” Poe asks him. “Actually, I think I’m gonna let it grow out a bit more,” He says, running his palm over his face, the light stubble grazing against his palm. Beebee looks up at him, tilting his head to one side as if he was pondering it.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Beebee lets out a small yip in response. “Yeah? Okay, then. I guess we’re growing a beard,”

—-

Poe never texted you after. It had been a few days since the kiss you really wanted to forget about but couldn’t. But you still needed to talk to Poe. You didn’t want to avoid him forever, neither could you pretend like nothing happened especially after running out of the house like that. You figured that he’d want to meet you some other time but he never texted again. 

You think about asking Rey about him when she comes over in a few minutes. She’d help you. But you’d have to tell her about kissing Poe, assuming Poe hadn’t already told the two of them, which seemed impossible. 

You use the remaining few minutes to tidy up a few things around the house, trying not to think too hard about anything. It was just Rey, she is your friend, she will help you. 

At the sound of the doorbell, Jessika springs up from her seat to get to the door. “Rey!” You hear them enthusiastically embrace, having not seen each other since the new year's party.

“We getting pizza, or do you guys want something else?” You ask and you get a chorus of agreement as a reply.

“I got us some wine,” Rey grins, pulling out two bottles from her bag.

Two hours and two large pizzas later, the three of you sit squeezed together in the couch, a movie droning in the background that none of you pays attention to. The alcohol draws more giggles from you as you sip wine from ceramic mugs, well into the second bottle by the time you finish your dinner.

Jessika animatedly recounts the story of how she saw the most attractive person in the world in the coffee shop that morning. Having already heard that particular story always twice, your attention slips away to your earlier dilemma. The wine certainly boosts your confidence ‘cause you’re sure you never would’ve gotten the words out if you were sober, but you dive headfirst into the question without any warning.

“Did Poe, um, tell you anything about the other night?” You hesitantly ask her just as Jessika finishes her story, absentmindedly picking at a thread on the blanket. “You know when you were at the dentist and I came over?”

“Before you say anything, I need to tell you that Poe broke up with Sarah weeks ago,” Rey interrupts you before you start on a downward spiral talking a million miles per hour. She’s glad you brought it up, because how was she supposed to ask you if you kissed her childhood best friend/ roommate?

You remain eerily silent for the while after whispering an oh at the revelation. Weeks ago? Long before he kissed you. Why didn’t he just tell you that? Oh, wait, because you ran out of the house after that and avoided him. You certainly owe him an apology.

Normally Rey is content sitting back and watching the drama unfold in people’s lives around her. But this was two people she really cares about, running circles around each other. Technically, meddling is justified if the parties involved were both dumbasses, right? And the only possible way to do that was to throw all the facts out in the open, hoping it would clear some things for you and at the same time try not exposing Poe too much.

“The guys saw you and Ben the other day at the diner. They had to leave before they could say hi, though,” Rey tells you.

“Oh,” That was something you didn’t expect her to say. “You know Ben?” You ask voicing out the first question in your mind.

“Yeah, he’s Poe’s godmother’s son,”

“Oh!” You suddenly exclaim. “He is Ben. It’s the same person! Ben Solo is Leia Organa’s son?” Rey nods laughing at your surprise. “I didn’t think he was that Ben, you know because they don’t have the same last name,”

“Are you dating him?” She asks.

“What? No. We’re just friends,”

“She’s not dating Ben, she’s meant to be with Poe!” Jessika cries out, dramatically flopping over the backrest

“Shut up, Jess,” you groan as Rey joins her, cackling. A thought hits you from nowhere all of a sudden. One you don’t like all that much.

“Does Poe think I’m with Ben?” Rey answers with a high-pitched, drawn-out, ‘maaaaybe?’ and you want to crash your head against the greasy pizza box. “I’m too sober for this,” You settle for draining the remaining wine from your cup instead.

“Why do they hate each other that much anyway?” You ask after a while. Sure, Poe mentioned some childhood animosity between him and Ben. But it looked like it was much more than that.

“Oh honey, you need more wine for that,” Jessika pours more into your cup, refilling hers and Rey’s as well. Of course, Jess would know. You would’ve asked if you weren’t too busy trying to stomp down your feelings for Poe.

“Sarah cheated on Poe with Ben,” Rey casually responds.

You splutter into your cup, almost choking on the liquid. “What?” Rey nods solemnly.

That was just great. Now you have to explain to the guy you like that you are not dating the guy whom his ex cheated on him with. And Ben. What was he thinking?

“How did that happen?” You ask.

“Well, it was early in their relationship,” Rey shrugs. “She convinced Poe not to dump her sorry ass after that,”

“Jesus,” You breathe. No wonder everyone hates her so much. “Oh god, what do I do now?”

---

“Stop that,” Snap nudges Poe who ignored him and continues to click his pen incessantly against his notebook. “You’re fucking annoying, what’s the matter with you today?” Poe tosses his pen on the table.

“It’s nothing,” He replies half heartedly. Snap knows that isn’t the case. He knew the last time his mood was this sour. But he was no longer dating Sarah, so...

“Is it Ben again?” Poe’s eyes immediately flicks up to the man in question sitting a few rows before him, shooting a withering glare to the back of his head. That is answer enough for Snap.

“What did he do this time?” The question comes from behind Poe this time as Kare leans forward between the two of them.

“It’s none of your business, Kare,” Snap tries to shoo her away. “And you two should pay attention, I’m not sharing my notes with you again,”

“Shut up, I’m not talking to you,” She waves him off, directing her attention back to Poe as Snap rolls his eyes at her. Poe angles himself to face her as he tells them both about what he saw at the diner. 

“That doesn’t really mean she like him, right? She kissed you,” Snap interrupts.

“I thought you were paying attention to the lecture?” Kare snaps at him.

“Shut up, I’m not talking to you,” Children, Poe thinks.

“She was wearing his jacket,” He continues, ignoring their bickering. “And she blew me off to go get lunch with him,” he shrugs. “It adds up,”

“Do ya’ll mind? Some of us come here to study,” Hux sharply interrupts from beside him, looking down his nose at the three of them. Signature sneer on his pasty face.

“Sorry Hugs,” Poe drawls, turning to the front.

He manages a few productive minutes of actually paying attention before his phone chimes in his pocket earning another glare from Hux. He rolls his eyes, pulling his phone from his pocket to switch it to silent. Then the notification catches his eyes. You texted him. Curiosity gets the best of him and he opens it.

Hey, sorry I couldn’t make It for lunch the other day. Would you like to go today?

Did he want to anymore? He had half a mind to blow you off. That may be a little petty but it definitely sounded appealing. Poe places his phone back in his pocket. He’ll just text you after class.

—-

The Dameron taglist (open): @writefightandflightclub @arkofblake @yougottakeeponkeepinon @multifandomlife22 @skymerons @smol-peter-parker @rae-rae-patcha @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @spider-starry @hkmultifandom @cloud-leader @elmoakepoke @staringmoony @valhallavalkyrie9 @the-cry-of-youth @liadamerondjarin @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @takemepedropascal @xremember-me-notx @softly-sad @loserbelle @littleeuphoriaelf @missmadwoman @gottalovethefandom @seejayyou

[moonlit-jeno]

love sick

Chapter 7- Donghyuck

pairing: nct dream ‘00 line + reader

genre/warnings: angst, character death, mentions of blood/ vomit

words: 2k

summary:

Donghyuck tells himself that it’s the merciful thing to do.

masterlist | prev | next

When Donghyuck is six, Mark Lee is seven. It’s not a big difference, that one year, but it’s enough to give Mark that sense of superiority that the older kids always have. and Donghyuck had just wanted to play on the swings, had just wanted to touch the sky like he’d seen the other kids doing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Donghyuck looks over his shoulder, the chains still bunched in his fists as he tries to figure out how to get onto the seat. The other kids can do it, so he can do it.

Donghyuck opens his mouth to answer, but the question’s rhetorical. “You’re not going on the swings, are you?”

He nods. The boys standing with Mark laugh, one of them falling to the floor in hysterics. Donghyuck’s eyes fill with tears, but his mom had told him to be strong so he refuses to let them fall. “Can you even reach the swing?” Mark grabs the piece of plastic, yanking it out of Donghyuck’s hands and lifting it out of reach. “Go on then, didn’t you say you wanted to swing?”

It’s cruel and obviously Donghyuck isn’t going to win, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He jumps with his face burning, reaching for the swing. The boys all laugh and Donghyuck feels the tears start to spill, frustration and embarrassment clawing at his insides.

“Aww, he’s crying? Look at this, he’s crying!” Mark laughs, throwing his head back.

“Give him the swing.” The voice comes from behind him and Donghyuck lifts his head and looks over, surprised to see a boy even smaller than him. He’s short and skinny with a weird hair cut, but his eyes are sharp and his hands are clenched into fists.

Mark looks at the new boy curiously. “Or what? I’m older than you, do you know what that means? I get to do whatever I want.”

The new boy just rolls his eyes, bending low to pick up a handful of woodchips. “No it doesn’t. It means that you’re going to give him the swing back.”

He pulls his arm back like he’s getting ready to throw the woodchips and Mark’s eyes widen. He lets go of the swing and runs away with his friends right behind him.

Donghyuck watches him run before turning to look at the boy. “Why’d you do that?”

“You looked scared.” The boy shrugs. The girl who’d been on the second swing gets off and renjun replaces her, plopping down on the seat easily and starting to pump his legs. Donghyuck watches in awe.

“What’s your name?” He should’ve asked earlier, and he knows his mom would be yelling at him for not having manners, but he’s forgetful.

The boy looks at him for a moment before extending his hand. “Renjun.”

It’s been twelve years since he first sat on the swings with Renjun, and he can still see that day as clear as if it happened yesterday. Donghyuck’s never had a great memory. That’s why he’d struggled with school, why his skin would be filled with marker scribbles reminding him to “grab groceries” or “tell Jeno happy birthday”. It’s not that he’s stupid, it’s just that there’s always so much going on, he can’t possibly be expected to remember that many things.

And in his 18 years of life, there are few memories that stand out as vividly as that one does. A dry sob leaves him when he realizes that that might be the only clear memory he’ll have left of his best friend. Well, the only good clear memory.

He takes a deep breath and looks over to where Renjun is sitting on the lawn of a house they’d haphazardly checked, staring blankly ahead of him. You and Jaemin are sitting at the kitchen table, pretending that you can’t hear Jeno in the bathroom where he’s crying so hard that he’s throwing up.

Donghyuck’s stomach is twisting so violently that he wishes he was throwing up, but all he can do is stand there numbly and think about the fact that he’s about to lose his best friend. He can’t even imagine what Renjun’s thinking as he sits there alone, picking at his ankle.

He’d never seen Renjun like this before, though he’s also never seen Renjun stare death in the eyes. The normally level headed boy had started screaming out of nowhere in the car, throwing himself against the door and yelling for you to get away from him. Donghyuck had thought that he was joking, but nothing any of them said had calmed him down.

“Fuck, what’s happening?” Jaemin asked, the car swerving as he turned around to see the commotion.

“You can’t- you can’t be around me!” Renjun was screaming, drawing into himself.  “I’m a fucking zombie!”

And of course, none of them knew what was happening because Renjun was still Renjun, he wasn’t trying to rip their faces off. Donghyuck remembers the exact look of confusion he had exchanged with Jeno as he pulled you into his lap and away from the distressed boy. He remembers thinking that maybe everything was just registering now, that Renjun was having a delayed reaction. And then he saw the cut.

A small scratch, no longer than an inch, on renjun’s ankle. It looked like the type of cut Donghyuck sometimes got when he got careless and forgot to trim his nails for too long. Except, of course, for the way that the veins along his ankle were black. The limb seemed to be pulsing, too, throbbing in a way so unnatural it seemed fake.

You all saw it, except for Jaemin, who was driving maniacally, looking frantically from the road to Renjun as he tried to figure out what was happening.

“He grabbed my ankle.” Renjun explained later, once he’d calmed down. Jaemin had only driven for another 15 minutes before they’d found a house that seemed decently safe, tires squealing as he pulled into the driveway. “I was running from the greenhouse and he grabbed my ankle but- but I thought it was okay, I thought I got away. He must’ve- he must’ve broken the skin without me noticing.”

Renjun’s last sentence had ended with a sob and Donghyuck’s heart squeezed so tightly that he thought he was going to die right then. You’d all looked at each other helplessly, so clueless as you tried to figure out what to do.

“You have to shoot me.” Renjun had said, looking Donghyuck directly in the eyes. “You can’t let me turn into a zombie, please.”

Donghyuck had held his gaze, throat thick with tears, and nodded. Jaemin had been begging, pleading with Renjun as if Renjun was in control of anything, as if Jaemin saying “please, no” would cause Renjun to say “well, since you said please” and be fine.

“Can’t we just amputate it?” You’d asked, voice frantic. “Only the veins in your ankle are black, it might not have spread that far.”

“Yeah, but I also might turn into a zombie and kill all of you.” Renjun had shot back, shaking his head. “We can’t take that chance.”

It’s the merciful thing to do, Donghyuck tells himself. He doesn’t want Renjun to suffer. He most certainly can’t let him live as a zombie. But he also- how is he supposed to shoot his best friend?

That had been an hour ago, and Donghyuck doesn’t know how much time they have. He figures there can’t be much left. The gun is heavy in his hands, and he takes a couple of deep breaths before he turns to you and Jaemin. “Go tell Jeno I’m doing it.”

Donghyuck doesn’t wait for the others before walking outside, tears falling steadily down his cheeks. Renjun turns to face him and the sight he makes is heartbreaking. His knees are drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them. His face is pale and his eyes are puffy, cheeks stained with tears.

“Renjun,” He starts, pausing to collect himself when his voice breaks. “Renjun, I love you.”

The other boys shakes as a sob leaves him, nodding forcefully. “Love you, Hyuck.” A pause, a sniff, a laugh. “I’m glad I was the one to teach you how to swing.”

And that absolutely breaks him, knowing that that same memory he was just thinking about is also engraved in Renjun’s mind. “I hate you for making me do this.” He isn’t supposed to say that, but it slips out anyways.

Renjun manages a weak smile. “Take care of everyone, Hyuck. I’m ready.”

Donghyuck raises the gun as Renjun closes his eyes. He starts a mental countdown, breathing as best as he can through his runny nose. Renjun turns his head just as he’s about to shoot. “Hyuck? Everyone includes you, too.” Donghyuck doesn’t respond, just waits for Renjun to close his eyes again

He pulls the trigger.

Blood splatters all over the grass and there’s a moment where Renjun remains sitting. Donghyuck panics, wondering if his best friend has already turned, but then his body falls limp against the ground. Donghyuck stares at Renjun for a moment before spinning around and promptly puking all over the red stained grass. 

You’re all crying when Donghyuck walks back into the house. Jeno has blood dripping from his knuckles, a few scratches on his forearms, and Donghyuck knows that he would find the mirror shattered into a thousand different pieces if he were to walk into the bathroom. There’s a towel blocking the little window, blocking the scene just outside the house, and he stares at the cloth blankly.

And Donghyuck feels the wetness of his face, he knows that he just killed his best friend, but at the same time, he doesn’t feel anything. He sets the gun down and it makes a hollow noise, but even that doesn’t feel real.

He registers you sobbing, babbling about how it’s your fault and that they shouldn’t have fought. Jaemin’s holding you tightly, jeno stroking your hair. and then all of the sudden he is feeling something, all of his hurt and guilt manifesting into something uglier.

“Do you ever do anything besides cry?” Donghyuck snaps. The three of you look up at him in confusion. “Jesus Christ y/n, you’re so fucking self important. I just shot my best friend in the whole wide world. I’m never going to get to see him again, because of you, and what’s the best that you can do? Sit here and pity yourself?”

He doesn’t recognize his voice, barely even hearing himself as he continues. “God, we should’ve never fucking stayed at your house in the first place. I wish we never fucking met you.”

Jaemin lets out a warning call of his name, Jeno shaking his head pointedly. He scoffs, turning his attention to the two boys. “What, you’re going to tell me that I’m wrong? What good has she done for us? Look at the two of you.” Donghyuck motions between them. “You’re best friends, practically soulmates, and what’s the first big fight you get into? You’re really going to argue over her?”

He steps up close to the table now, and you stare up at him silently, eyes swollen and glazed over with tears. “You really tried to play four separate guys, huh. And look what happened. Renjun’s dead because of you, you fucking whore.”

“That’s enough.” Jeno says, stepping up closer to Hyuck. his voice is level but his arms are crossed and even Jaemin’s glaring at him.

Donghyuck steps back, hands held up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just telling the truth. Even now she’s got you whipped, turning you against me.”

“No, Hyuck, you’re just being an asshole.” Jeno shoots back at the same time that Jaemin says “You should go lay down.”

He rolls his eyes, casting one long look at each of you before scoffing. “Fine, whatever. But she’s gonna lead us straight into hell, and you two are going to follow her blindly.” Donghyuck spins on his heel, not feeling better in the slightest as he leaves the room.

They don’t respond

[jungshookz]

Idea- Jin patrols your campus parking lot and you keep parking in a no parking zone so he keeps giving you tickets but you just pay them and then continue to park in the zone. Jin gets sick of this and waits at your car so he can give you a piece of his mind but you come out and he thinks your really adorable and he just kinda stands there tongue tied

➺ pairing; kim seokjin x reader 

➺ genre; crckhed hrz let’s be real 

➺ wordcount: 2k 

➺ what to expect; “to the asswipe who owns this mini cooper - do you know how to read signs? this is a no-parking zone. no. parking. zone. that means you are not allowed to park in this zone. DO NOT park here.”

➺ note; i’m pretty sure this was sent in a year ago because the messages this far back are all about mechanic!yoongi oOps! there is an obscene lack of jin drabbles on my masterlist and i am in a jin mood so if u have any drabble ideas lemme know and i might get back to you in one yEAR i hate myself   

                                       »»————-　🚗　————-««

for the most part, jin can say that he loves his job as campus patrol officer

it’s pretty easy because all he has to do is check and make sure if anyone’s staying longer than they’re supposed to oR if someone’s parked where they definitely do not belong

like, a no-parking zone, for example!

he thinks it’s relatively easy to follow the law

it’s not hard to park in a no-parking zone

because it literally says no-parking

no-parking = no pARKING

but he is really, reaLLy being tested right now because this is probably the tenth or twelfth or HUNDREDTH time he’s written up a ticket for this stupid mini cooper

he just doesn’t understand how one doesn’t understand that a no parking zone means a no parking zone

it’s literally so self-explanatory!!!!!

and he can’t call the tow truck company to come and take it away because according to his boss jin has pulled the ‘the boy who cried tow truck’ act onE too many times and his privilege to make that call has been revoked

so all he can do is slap a ticket on the window and call it a day

at this point he’s convinced that the owner of this dumb mini cooper is is probably just repeating the same mistake juSt to get on his nerves

he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this!!

also

who drives mini coopers nowadays

why would someone want to drive such a dinky little car?????

just as he’s about to slip the ticket behind the windshield wiper he pauses

no

you know what

he has to switch things up

he can’t just keep giving you the same exact ticket each time because it’s obviously not scaring you

the law is supposed to be threatening and you appear to not give a heCK about his tickets (which is another reason why he’s so upset with you is because you’re not taking him seriously and he takes himself very seriously when he’s in patrol officer mode!!!)

he slips the ticket behind the windshield wiper and gives the hood of the car two firm pats

that should do it

jin lets out a breath of relief before moving on to his next victim

hopefully he’ll never see the mini cooper ever again

“oh my g- you know what, don’t even get me staRted on how much i pulled that essay out of my ass-“ you snort as you pull your car keys out of your backpack

“so do you think you did well on it?” hoseok hums over the phone

“i mean, i don’t think i did well but i also don’t think it was thAt bad-“ you have your phone sandwiched in between your ear and your shoulder as you dig through your bag

why is it that when you need to pull something out of your bag it suddenly becomes an endless mary poppins-esque style knapsack

aH

your eyes light up in excitement when you feel it and you pull your keys out with a jingle

and just when you’re about to unlock your car (affectionately named cooper) you notice the familiar looking slip of paper on your window

oh come on

not aGAIN

“son of a bitch!” cooper chirps happily as you unlock him and you open the front door a little toO aggressively

“what’s wrong?”

“i got another friggin’ parking ticket.” you grumble as you take it before getting in the driver’s seat

you toss your bag next to you before setting your phone on the dashboard and hitting the speaker button

“maybe you should take this tenth parking ticket as a sign to stop parking in the no parking-“

“oh my god, i can’t believe this! hold on, let me reaD you what this person wrote!” you clear your throat before raising the note to the light “to the asswipe who owns this mini cooper - do you know how to read signs? this is a no parking zone. no. parking. zone. that means you are not allowed to park in this zone. DO NOT park here.” you let out a scoff of disbelief

how ruDE!

“again, maybe you should take this as a sign to stop parking in the no parking-“

“one more word out of you and i’ll send you riGht back to the world of commuting, hoseok.”

that effectively shuts him right up

you read the note one more time

somewhere out there there’s an officer who is too passionate about this no parking zone business

you lean over to glance up at the sign that very clearly states you shouldn’t park here and you give a little shrug

it’s not that you’re being an asshole and just ignoring the literal law

it’s just that this is a reaLLy good spot to park in

you used to have to park all the way in the back of the lot which resulted in you having to sprint to your classes

and you don’t wanna be huffing and puffing as you step into the lecture hall okay

plus it’s not like you’re hurting anyone or getting in anyone’s way!!!!!!

it’s not a big deal

you have no problem with paying off a couple of parking tickets as long as it means you don’t have to spRINt to your classes  

you shrug before opening up your glove compartment and shoving the ticket inside

anywayS

jin whistles a happy tune to himself as he makes his way down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace

he had a pretty good today

had a good breakfast

got a free donut from the lunch ladies because not only is he a lady’s man, he’s also a lunch lady’s man

also

on a completely unrelated note

he doesn’t know why he has to wear this obnoxiously orange traffic vest

well obviously he knows it’s part of the job but like

out of all the colours in the world why did it have to be bright orange

why not like a muted purple or a navy blue??? those would be loveLy to wear

maybe not peach

he looks gross in anything peachy

anyways he-

“oH MY fuCKIGN-“ jin gasps as he rushes over to the MINI COOPER

IT’S BACK

HE’S CURSED

HOW-

“are you KIDDING me?!” jin groans loudly and ignores the odd glances he receives from the people walking past him

you know what

that’s it

this is the last straw

he’s just going to wait here til the owner of the car comes and then he’s going to give them a PIECE of his mind because they are making his job significantly harder

first his tickets are ignored and noW his threatening note has also been ignored?????

but seriouSLY

what kind of moron continues to park in a no parking zone???

jesus christ

he’s gonna need another donut after this

heck

he’s going to need like teN donuts after this

“good afternoon, officer! is there a problem?”

oh you BET there’s a problem

“as a matter of fact-“ jin whips around to finally face the culprit of this continuous heinous crime of parking in the no parking zone

he’s finally going to be face to face with his faceless mortal enemy and he’s going to give you a piece of his goddAMN MIND-

jin’s mind goes blank the moment he settles his eyes on you

oh

o

oh my god

woWie you’re cute

he usually says he doesn’t have a type but he suddenly has a type and that type is whatever you are  

you and your pretty eyes and pouty lips and veRy soft looking hair

a slight breeze blows in his general direction and he catches a whiff of your perfume

oh woW

he could swim in that scent all day

on top of that you’re wearing the cosiest looking sweater and for a brief second he wonders what you’d look like wearing one of his sweaters

“you- uh,..,.,.“ jin clears his throat and taps his pen against his notepad

what was he going to say again

something something car something donut something parking something something

you smile sweetly at him and tilt your head

“see, the thing is…”

you reach up to push your reading glasses up so they sit on the top of your head and you blink owlishly at jin “yes?”

the only thing in jin’s head is the sound of a fax machine beeping but make it as chaotic as possible

“oh my g- oh, i am so sorry!!!! i parked in the no-parking zone again, i am so sorry!” you let out a little groan as you rush over to unlock cooper

you never thought you’d be caught by an actual patrol officer so you don’t really have a plan of action

right now you’re just pulling the whole oblivious act and hopefully he’ll let you gO because you’re pretty good at convincing people that you only have two and a half braincells

one time you dumbed yourself out of doing your share of a group project and you still left that class with an A

:’)

…you’re a tinY bit of an asshole sometimes but that’s not the point

in the time that you’ve thrown your bag in the trunk and filled the silence with profuse apologies jin has managed to snap ouT of his trance

he’s not lady’s man jin right now

he has to be patrol officer kim

“you’ve actually-“ his voice cracks and jin clears his throat quickly “you’ve actually parked in this specific spot several times, despite me leaving you many parking tickets and-“

“were you the one who left that note on my car yesterday?” you interrupt him before narrowing your eyes suspiciously

wha-

why is hE suddenly the one being grilled

you’re the one who’s in trouble!!! 

…why is hE swEATING????

“well, i-“

“you called me an asswipe!” you gasp in offence and jin feels his face flush

o god

“you know what, uh, i was just frustrated because-“

“eh, it’s fine, i’ll forgive you. i guess i deserve it.” you let out a sigh and shake your head “tell you what, officer-“ you lean forward a little to look at his name tag “officer… asswipe.”

jin’s jaw drops slightly and now it’s his turn to let out a scoff of disbelief

you are opENLy disrespecting an officer of the law!!!!!

“it’s actually pronounced seokjin, i really don’t know how you messed up that badly-“  

“i promise i won’t park in this spot again-“

“oh, thank god-“

“if you give me your number.”

wait what

jin blinks

“so- i’m sorry, what?”

“this glorious parking spot in exchange for your number.” the corner of your lips raise in a smirk as you shake your phone at him 

wow

confident!

…he’s into that

usually he’s the one asking for numbers but obviously not in this case

also he has to admit that was pretty smooth

what’s the opposite of a lady’s man

…a man’s lady?

that don’t sound right

(jin gets a text from you later that night telling him you’ll pick him up tomorrow afternoon at 3 - and that you’ll wait for him in the no-parking zone.)

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist