#out of my ass and none of them told me that was just stupidly tall. like has to duck under doorways kind of tall. like holy shit

[transgaysex]

worlds most >:( 5 y/o (dontrb its art)

ani aged 5 <- he doesnt know somewhere in another continent 4 besties are saving the world from horrors beyond this universe

[duskamethyst]

after party. (ft. keigo)

a/n: at this point i hope someone reads and enjoys it (i dont have any influence in this app lol). this is my longest fic yet.

word count: 6k

genre: quirkless AU, nsfw, smut, angst

warnings: fucked up– noncon/dubcon, tw physical abuse, tw emotional abuse, possessiveness, abusive relationships, cheating, intoxication (voluntarily), slight suicidal thoughts, yandere behavior

the behavior displayed by dabi is not love. no one deserves to be treated like shit in a relationship. if you are being abused, please find help.

pairing: dabi x f!reader (x keigo)

summary: keigo takes a liking on you but what does your ex boyfriend, dabi has to do say about it?

you walk out of the uber in your tight little dress with your friend and line in front of the club before the bouncers can check your IDs. your friend was the one who initiated the idea to go party since she had a rough day at work today and you would do anything to make her feel better so you agreed. besides, you were convinced that you were also in need of plenty of doses of serotonin and you haven’t gotten stupidly drunk for a while.

the echoes of the music that you heard from outside has become much louder and clearer as you walk inside the room. a throng of people are already wildly grinding against each other on the dance floor, some are making out and some just watch by their table, sipping on their expensive alcohol. your friend grabs you over by the bar to buy you some drink. one glass quickly turns to two, to three, four and five. you’ve finally reached your high and your body itches to join the crowd so you pull your friend towards the floor and squeeze in between bodies before you start to sway the night away – oblivious to the prying eyes that have been staring at you from one of the vip tables. 

you’re mouthing the lyrics as you shake your hips voluptuously with your hands snaking up and down from your hair to your body in a sultry manner, slightly aware of some of the males’ gazes around you but none even dare to make a move. you love how you manage to make their heads turn towards you while you’re doing the least and now you’re just drowning in euphoria and confidence. you know you’re stunning and you made damn sure that the dress you chose for tonight would show off your curves at the right places, not forgetting the hem barely covering your ass. you know you’re a fucking tease to those idiots.  

a pair of arms suddenly wraps around your waist and pulls you back, enveloping you into a warm and muscular hold – but loose enough for you to continue dancing. you turn your head back to the person and he raises his eyebrows invitingly as he locks his golden eyes with yours with a devilish smirk that graces his lips and instantly makes your heart leap. 

you feel like you’ve hit the jackpot. 

you keep on dancing and he slowly follows you from the back. when you boldly tease him by grinding your ass on his mid hard on, you can feel the grip on your hips hardens. with a proud smug tugging on your lips, you confidently turn your head to see him watching you down with his lip already between his teeth. you both know very well the effect you have on him right now.

“if you’re gonna do that, why don’t you come to my table?” he says loud enough in your ear to suppress the banging music. 

you pretend to think a little, though you know you can’t (and don’t want to)  turn down his offer – not when he’s this attractive because usually you’d easily reject any sleazy and scrawny guys without a second thought whenever they invite you for a drink with them. “i don’t know... should i?” you start to flirt.

“you like being a tease?” his hot breath lingers around your ear as he chuckles, sending a tingling sensation down to your core. “well, you’re damn good at it. come on.” 

from the look in your eyes, he already knows your game. he doesn’t give you a moment to answer and only smiles before pulling your hand as he walks you through the crowd. the fact that he is tall and built easily causes people to step away from him, making him look like moses parting the sea. you look around as you follow the man and spot your friend who is long forgotten, dancing with a random guy and giving you a thumbs up before shooing you away, most likely to tell you to just go with him.

by the time you reach his table, another guy that you assume as his friend is already seated and making out with a girl leaning next to him. you don’t have a clue of who they are and the dim lights aren’t really helping so you choose just to ignore it. 

“come here, baby.” the blonde pats on his lap as he sits down on the opposite side of the table, directly in front of his friend. there’s something about him that is mesmerizing as a whole and certainly, this man can easily get anyone that he wants. though you initially wanted to play hard to get, you find yourself to obey him, already straddling his laps as asked. you face him, wanting to give yourself a much clearer view of his features. his brows are thick and his lids are a little hooded, not sure if it’s from the alcohol or it’s naturally like that and he has some stubble on his chin. his eyes are dark – is he wearing eyeliner? but his golden irises make them bright at the same time. he’s too handsome for his own good and you’re pretty sure he knows it well. 

“such a pretty little thing.” he mumbles as his hand caresses your cheek and you’re hoping he doesn’t notice how your skin warms up to his touch.

you move your hips closer to his, your core grinding tauntingly through the fabric close to his groin. he rests his hands low on your back – too low and guides your hips as you continue to grind and roll against him, all while maintaining eye contact with you. 

“keigo. you can say it.” he suddenly says as he notices how you bite your lip from escaping any shameful noises as he bucks his hips closer to your needy cunt. you blankly stare at him before realizing that he just told you his name, most probably hear you to moan out. embarrassed, you lean and hide your face on the crook of his nape, involuntarily sniffing his cologne as you inhale. fuck, he also smells amazing. 

he laughs, “thought you were cheeky, but you’re also shy, huh?” 

the fact that he knows that he has the power of making you feel flustered gets on your nerves. as a retaliation, you bite the soft skin on his neck and successfully feel his body tenses up a little as a response. you grin victoriously against his skin and decide to deliberately try to get more reaction from him as you begin to suck and nibble on the same spot and it’s already making him shudder.

“already marking me, babe?” keigo looks at you as you pull away. “i’ll be sure to put ‘rough’ on the list then.” he grabs and squeezes your ass before pulling you into a hungry kiss, taking you off guard but you’re more than happy to return. you can feel that your dress is moving up almost revealing half of your ass from the way he keeps on clutching it along with the fabric and his friend can probably see a bit of your panties but you couldn’t care less, not when you feel so needy right now.

“get a room.” a deep voice from the other side suddenly interrupts.

keigo pulls away and glares at his friend past your shoulder. the remark alone suddenly makes you feel bad and ashamed so you think it’s best if you don’t turn around, no matter how much you want to tell him to piss off-- but he also probably paid for the table so you have no place to say that at all. 

“shut up, dabi.” 

dabi?

sure, you’re tipsy but you’re sober enough (and not deaf) to clearly hear what keigo said and it’s a name that you never want to come across again, let alone the person himself. you don’t want to be reminded of the person that hurt you so many times before. the person who threw out a year long relationship for his own desires and constantly making you feel bad about yourself, like you’re not enough and blamed you for the reason of why he cheated on you. the thoughts and memories of him haunted you for so long and you were grateful when you finally managed to get over it but now... guess you thought wrong.

the feeling of embarrassment you had is replaced by fear. you don’t have to see it but you know that dabi is wearing that ugly smirk when he sees how your body freezes and quick to pull down your dress properly. in a second, your brilliant portrayal of femme fatale suddenly vanishes into thin air. the bass from the music suddenly feels so loud and it makes your head dizzy. god, it’s all too awful. keigo notices your uneasiness that his jackass friend caused and he immediately pulls you into a hug. he apologizes to you but you can only manage a meek nod of your head. 

“let’s go somewhere else.” he comforts you before you get off his lap and stand up with him to leave. your head is hanging low, staring at nothing but the floor. you can’t comprehend what you’re feeling right now. is it embarrassment? horror? anger? are you being set up? you can’t bring yourself to look at dabi in the eyes and you don’t want to be in his presence any longer. you’re already wishing for the ground to swallow you whole. you just want to leave. somewhere. anywhere. 

“leaving already? don’t want to introduce me to your friend?” keigo stops in his tracks before turning around to his friend with an eye roll. you, on the other hand, aren’t sure whether the question is directed at you or keigo but you can feel that dabi is intensely burning holes through you and it makes you want to puke. 

keigo wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer, “sorry. i don’t think she wants to know you, dude.” he sneers and walks away with you before dabi gets the chance to say anything. the last thing keigo wants is a fight with his friend right now. he’s the worst when he’s drunk, after all. 

“i’m sorry about my friend,” keigo apologizes again as he leads you to his car and opens the passenger’s door for you before walking around it and getting in the driver’s seat. “but that’s dabi for you. annoying fella.” he laughs and starts the engine. 

“it’s fine.” it isn’t – but you force a smile and you don’t want him to think that you’re weird-- you have to keep up and act normal. keigo sighs in relief and puts his hand on your thigh, rubbing it gently as he drives the whole way. from your understanding and the way he talks about him, keigo probably doesn’t know that you and dabi used to be a thing and you don’t plan on telling him much about your life either. it’s not a surprise since dabi was the one that wanted the relationship to be discreet – or in his book it’s called “lowkey” or “private”. it felt like he was hiding you from a part of his world.

thus, he barely (or most likely never, if he didn’t hold your hand on dates) showed you off and you had never met his family and friends. you were so in love with him so you tolerated, but the moment you started to bother him by asking why (or when you asked him to post your pictures together on his stories at least), he’d lose his shit. he said that he was not into those kind of stuffs and he hated and cringed when people showed off their partners excessively, so putting himself on the same level as them was the last thing he wanted-- until you found out the real reason: he was fucking around behind your back. 

and it didn’t happen once. it was hard but you forgave him the first time when he apologized. he said he was so sorry, he’d change and he couldn’t live without you, all those things you wanted to hear. you knew you had and wanted to give him a chance. you loved him but trust wasn’t something that was easy to build and you were always wary of him a couple of months after that. he found it ridiculous when you tried to check his phone so much, said that you were overreacting and it often broke into a fight. deep inside, you knew he was doing it again. you’d yell at each other and one of you would end up bruised after. later he’d say he was sorry for what he did, make up with hot sex, whisper sweet nothings to you and you would forgive him again – and the cycle repeated itself. in the end, there was never a proper closure but the day he took away all his belongings from your place, you both knew it was already over and none of you ever said anything since then. it was devastating but so liberating.

right now, you’re not sure where keigo is taking you and you don’t care because you’re just glad that you and him didn’t have to deal with your ex for too long back there. keigo tries to crack some jokes as he drives and keeps on recommending to you the songs that he currently likes by playing it on the radio. your mood lifts up gradually as you hear him sing and the thought of dabi slowly becomes a blur.

he brings you to his house (or mansion, by the size of it) and offers you a drink. he’s regretful that he couldn’t buy you a drink earlier since he ended up just making out with you before the whole dabi fiasco happened. so he brings out one of his expensive liquors for both of you before nuzzling on his sofa. after a light hearted conversation and a few sips of the alcohol, you’re quick to get drunk and giddy again. keigo softly caresses his hand up and down your thigh as you mumble nonsense but the lack of response from the male makes you turn your head to him and he’s already staring at you. it’s quiet for a few moments before both of your reddened faces inch closer and you impatiently crash your lips onto his. he hums into the kiss while his hands rub gently on your sides.

“not here.” he bites your lower lip and picks you up bridal style. you giggle as he brings you upstairs to his room before throwing you on his bed. keigo gets on top of you and kisses you hungrily, only pulling away to take off his shirt to reveal his toned body and goes back to kiss you again. his hands roam greedily all over your body as if you’ll be gone if he lets go before slipping one of his hands under your dress, feeling the wet pool already formed against the thin fabric. 

“oh?” he smirks, rubbing your wet slits with his fingers and watches you as you squirm under him. keigo immediately leans down between your legs and licks a wet strip through your panties. “i wanted to give payback for what you did, but i can’t wait anymore.” 

keigo pulls your panties to the side and starts to lap off your juices like a starved man, the aftertaste of the liquor he had earlier replaced by your flavor. your legs begin to tremble as his tongue expertly licks your clit and through your folds. keigo watches you between your thighs, your mouth gaping as you chant his name repetitively like a prayer while your hands clench on his soft pillow. 

“cum on my face, baby.” he soothes his erection against the mattress, grinding through the sheets as he focuses on making you orgasm. 

“oh, fuck – keigo!” you squeal as he slides in two fingers inside your sloppy cunt and the lewd sloshing sounds do nothing but make you and keigo even more aroused. you press your thighs together as you feel the coil inside you tighten up but his free hand pushes them apart from crushing his head. with a suck on the clit, he eventually pushes you over the edge and he grins proudly as you cum. he licks your juices off and hovers back up to you and kisses you again, making you taste yourself. 

“you taste so fucking good,” he whispers as he pulls the straps of your dress down to reveal your breasts before getting up to his knees to take off your panties and anything he has left, freeing his hard cock. “i’m gonna leave you with that on because you look so –” he smacks your thigh, “fucking hot in it. pretty sure you thought hard about wearing that dress.” he chuckles.

“happy to know it’s doing its job.” you giggle as you eagerly spread your legs again before him. god, alcohol really makes you forget every ounce of shame you’re supposed to have, doesn’t it? 

keigo gives his cock a few pumps with his hand before he leans forward to slide inside your soppy cunt and he hisses as the warmth engulfs him while you feel every vein against your tight walls. he slowly starts to move his hips when he hears you moan his name again before building up the pace. you wrap your legs around his waist and he leans closer to you, enabling you to hold him while he fucks harder. 

“fuck,” he groans. “you feel so good.” 

your nails are clawing his bare back, making him want to thrust into you faster. the quiet room now filled with moans, squelching sounds and skins slapping against each other. keigo nibbles on your neck while his hand reaches down to press and circle your neglected clit, quickly causing you to reach your climax.

“wanna cum!” you cry, the aftermath of your previous orgasm making you sensitive even more. 

“yeah? baby wants to cum on my cock?” 

“please, please, keigo!” you beg as your toe curls and the legs you have wrapped around him pushes him down and deeper into you. you can feel your walls tightening as he thrusts harder through the spongy walls and with a couple more circles on your clit, your eyes roll back as you come undone. keigo continues to fuck you and you can feel that he’s close by the way his cock twitches inside you before he shoots ropes of thick cum inside you. 

the both of you are left in a daze as you pant and keigo slowly pulls out his cock before laying next to you and pulls you close into his warm embrace. 

“you did so great, baby. oh, god.” he says between breaths as he caresses your hair and kisses your head. the silent ambience and the fact that the both of you are dead tired from the whole night eventually causes the both of you to fall asleep in each others’ arms instantly. 

you wake up suddenly and see that it’s still dark outside. you can only assume that it’s currently four to five in the morning and you turn to your side to see keigo is still sleeping peacefully next to you. you know it’s best to not stay around any longer, you’re not looking for a relationship though it’s a shame because telling by the way he treated you, this man is just amazing.

then again, you only know his name. worse, he’s a friend of your ex boyfriend and that’s just kind of fucked up in a lot of ways.

quietly getting off his bed, you put back on your panties and carefully open the door before walking back downstairs. the place is so huge but you manage to find your handbag from the sofa earlier and head straight outside before you can call the uber back to your apartment. surely you hope keigo doesn’t mind that you’re leaving him so suddenly. heck, you might even be doing him a favor. he was nice and thoughtful to you throughout the night but it’s really hard to put someone that’s been around dabi in your good graces now.

the elevator stops on your floor and you walk through the same, familiar hall while rummaging through your handbag to look for your keys through the receipts that you always reminded yourself to but forgot to throw out from your bag. the minute you lift up your head to watch where you’re going, you stop in your tracks as you see a man leaning against your door. a man that you thought you’re not going to see so soon and now you’re thinking that staying with keigo until the morning probably was the best idea. 

but it’s too late for that. he already notices you.

you can feel your blood boiling and your hands clenching into a fist. he’s wearing that stupid smirk that you’ve always used to adore – the same one that made you swoon once but now it only makes you want to punch him hard and break a tooth or two – if only you’re brave enough.

“the fuck you’re doing here?” you snarl at him with every ounce of bravery you still have inside you. you’re grateful that you don’t sound as meek as you expected to but seeing you like this amuses him even more. he had always liked it when you were all riled up until he thought that it was annoying and ‘had’ to get physical to shut you up.

dabi whistles, “mm, feisty.” 

you roll your eyes and ignore him as he steps away for you to open your door. you try to remain calm and stop your hand from shaking as you insert and twist the key through the keyhole so he won’t even get the hint that you’re shitting inside your pants right now. you quickly get inside your house once it’s unlocked and instantly push the door close, but to only have his foot to stop it from closing. you begin to panic and try to push the door harder while he tries to push the door back from the other side. 

“let me in.” he slurs as he leans down to meet you on eye level. the azure eyes that used to be captivating and mesmerizing are now dark and horrifying-- like when he used to look down at you condescendingly while your body was trembling on the floor.

“no! dabi! you’re drunk!” you scream as tears begin to prickle your eyes.

“don’t be like that. come on, i just wanna talk.” he says calmly with a smile, in an attempt to calm you down, though the smile doesn’t really reach his eyes and only scares you even more. you’re certain that he can see fear running through your eyes.

“fuck off!” you push the door with all the strength you have left. you’re not naive, you know that dabi is far stronger than you and you can only hope for a miracle to happen right now – for someone up there to suddenly grant you superhuman strength so you could shove the door right in his face or to just make dabi give up from pursuing you.

but you can only hope. there’s no such thing as super powers and you know damn well your ex boyfriend is not the type to easily give up on the things he wants. 

“let. me. in.” he threatens under his breath. “you don’t want to make me angry.” 

a wave of bitter flashbacks creeps into your mind again, as if seeing his face isn’t enough to remind you of the past you desperately want to forget. you feel your body tremble and grow weaker as you look at the monster outside your door again and when he feels the force from your side drops, dabi takes the opportunity to easily push back the door and invites himself in and makes sure to lock the door before turning to you.

your shaky legs weren’t enough to support you and caused you to tumble back when the door swung open. you look down to the floor as you shake and sob while dabi walks slowly towards you before kneeling down in front of you.

“baby, look at me.” he coos. 

your body stays frozen in place, your head suddenly weighs too heavy to lift itself up. you’re a sobbing mess and you don’t want him to see that. judging from the experience you’ve had with him, you know it’s wise to not make him repeat things twice so you slowly force yourself to look up at him to see his blue eyes already taunting you. dabi shushes you as you cry even harder when you face him and he gently strokes your hair to soothe you. his touch is far from comforting and it’s nothing like how keigo played with your hair earlier. 

“you missed me that much?” he chuckles as he wipes away your tears with his calloused thumbs. you’re too afraid, you can’t even muster any reaction no matter how much you want to, you can only weep in his hold. 

“i know i was happy when i saw you,” his lips curl into a grin before it swiftly turns into an unpleasant scowl as he replays the scene inside his head. “until you decided to whore out for my friend. right. in. my. fucking. face.”  

you quickly shake your head to deny his accusation. well, it’s true that he’s friends with keigo but how could you have known? you couldn’t even see him when a girl was literally sucking off his face when you came up to their table! let alone the fact he never introduced you to his friends while you were together!

“n-no– i didn’t know–” 

an abrupt loud pang echoes throughout the room. it was so quick but now, somehow, you suddenly feel a stinging pain on your cheek. your eyes widen as your palm reaches for the burn on your skin, as if to reaffirm yourself that yes, you just got slapped by dabi. again.

“you don’t get to talk back.” he scoffs as he looks at you in irritation. 

your fear turns to anger and it suddenly gives you courage to defend yourself. you start to wail again and push his body away from you, to make an effort for him to walk out the door – to go away. you keep on pushing his chest and his hands whenever he tries to grab a hold of you. you’re aware that you look and sound hysteric but you just want him out. out of your house, out of your life forever. 

of course, it’s a pathetic display to dabi. he went through this with you before, you’d never win against him and it would never make the slightest change. he’s two times your size, a little push won’t budge him. it only annoys him more. 

dabi easily grabs your wrists with one of his hands while his other free hand grabs you by the hair from the back of your head, yanking your head to tilt upwards. understanding that this is your utter defeat, you can only manage to sob helplessly again. 

“you didn’t know?” he growls. “you did it just to spite me, didn’t you?” 

you try to shake your head no, but the stinging pain from your scalp won’t allow you. 

“did you fuck him?” 

you don’t answer, not even a nod or a shake of your head as you only continue crying. 

“did you,” he clutches harder and causes you to wail louder, “or did you not?” 

you’re convinced anyone can hear you through the wall but what are the chances for your neighbors to actually want to get involved this early in the morning? especially when they’re the type to only mind their own business.

“fuck. you did.” he sees the distinctive bruise on your neck and finally pushes you free from his grasps – as if the sight of it makes him feel disgusted that another man had already fucked you. but it’s okay! he can turn that around and make it right. “you’re gonna make up for me, yeah?” 

you swallow hard as you look at him, unsure if you can speak so you carefully manage a timid whisper, “wh-what do you mean?” 

dabi's lips tug into a smirk. he’s glad you asked. 

“i’m gonna fuck you and you’re gonna take it. i’m gonna make you forget about that asshole.” 

you shake your head no and start to crawl away but dabi is quick to grab and pull you back to him. if you had a book about yourself, he already finished reading it. he knows you like the back of his hand by now and you both know that.

dabi positions you on your knees, cheek rests on the hard, wooden floor so you can directly stare at the wall and pushes your back down into a desirable arch that gives the best view of your ass for him. when you try to wriggle out from his rough grasps on your hips, he gives a hard slap on your ass.

“doll, it won’t hurt if you behave.” he chuckles darkly as he pulls his pants along with his briefs down to his knees before pushing the hem of your dress up to your waist, revealing the panties that were peeking in front of him earlier.

“dabi, please. don’t do this.” you glance back towards him pleadingly but he only snickers in amusement.

“shh, i’ll be gentle this time.” he takes off the flimsy fabric down to your knees before rubbing your clit in circles with his thumb and he continues doing so until he feels a wet slick slowly starting to drool from your cunt. with a stroke of his tongue, he laps off your juices and hums at the taste that fills his buds. oh how he missed it, how he always adored how you tasted in his mouth. 

you bite your lip to suppress any whimpers when his warm tongue glides on your throbbing clit ravenously. it shouldn’t feel good, but it does. you keep reminding how much you hate him and the millions of reasons why but god, he’s so good, it’s leaving your mind in a haze. he still remembers where and how to make you ache for him. unlike him with other girls, he memorized every inch of your body because you’re just that special to him.

dabi glances at you to see how your brows are already knitted together as you close your eyes shut and your lips pressing into a thin line to try not to entertain him with any sort of reaction. it’s so endearing. 

dabi pulls away and slaps your ass, “you like that, doll?” 

you keep quiet and refuse to look at him but he is quick to draw your attention to him as he rubs the tip of his cock along your sloppy folds, coating his cock with your slick and nudges on your clit with his tip while your body trembles underneath him. he spits on your cunt before he presses the tip of his cock in, causing you to gasp at his thick girth. 

“so fucking –” he grunts as he pushes inside through your walls, “tight.” 

you whimper as you feel him stretch you out but once you quickly get used to it, you subconsciously buck your hips closer to him to take him more. dabi chuckles in amusement when he sees how you easily give in and stroke his ego by submitting yourself to him. he knows he could never be replaced. he knows how your tight cunt still remembers how his cock felt inside you.

he groans in deeply as he starts to thrust his cock in and out of you before picking up into a much brutal pace and your nails start to claw and dig the plain floor, “t-too much, dabi!” 

your cries fall into deaf ears as he drowns himself into his own pleasure while you try your best to take him in until you’re quick to acclimatize to his rhythm and you start to mindlessly slip out moans after moans from your lips in a sinful chant. 

dabi smirks arrogantly as he watches you becoming a mess for him and he leans down closer, causing the tip of his cock to hit your cervix each time he rams inside. “bet he didn’t fuck you this good, hmm? bet you were– fuck– thinking of my cock instead.” 

your mind is hazy as you’re succumbed into your carnal desire, already fucked dumb by his thick cock to even build coherent sentences so a few single ‘yes’ are the only thing you can manage to say. 

“you’re clamping down on me baby,” he laughs. “gonna cum in this tight cunt, yeah?” 

his words send a jolt of electricity down to your core and your breath begins to hitch as you’re able to feel your third orgasm for the night begin to wash over your body. dabi realizes this as he feels your body shaking under him and your walls contracting around his cock. he takes this chance to slow down his pace so he can hear you beg for him. he wants to be reminded that only he can make you feel this good. not his friend keigo, no one. 

“w-wanna cum!” you whine in desperation as your hips buck to meet his thrusts. 

“yeah? say my name.” he taunts. to be calling for his name in a situation like this is humiliating enough and he lives for this moment. he loves how he’s able to turn you into a dumb, drooling mess for his cock and itching for a release.

“d-dabi, please.”

“whose fucking pussy is this?” he gives a deep thrust as he emphasizes the word, making you yelp in surprise. 

“y-yours!” 

“you’re goddamn right.” he continues to pound into your tight cunt relentlessly before his hand reaches to press down and rub your clit with his thumb, just enough to make you see stars and lips part in a silent scream as you finally come undone. 

dabi groans as he feels your walls clamping around his cock, his nails already forming red, crescent shapes as he continues to chase after his own orgasm. 

“fuck– i’m gonna fill up this pussy.” his thrusts begin to stutter as he feels his climax washes through him and his cock twitches inside you before he releases hot cum inside you. 

dabi’s grins proudly as he watches your limp body slumped down against the floor as he pulls out his cock. he makes sure to put back the dripping cum inside your cunt with his finger, making you shriek weakly from overstimulation. 

the both of you say nothing as he picks you up and takes you to your room. both are too drained for any further arguments and he’s glad that you’re not trying to make a fuss anymore. he puts you on your bed and you swiftly turn to your side before feeling the bed dips behind you as he puts his weight down on it. 

dabi wraps his arm around you and presses your back to his chest. you went through so much tonight, you can’t even bother to cry anymore and you’re too numb to process all your feelings right now. you don’t know what will happen tomorrow instead you wish it won’t come at all. 

“we’ll start over.” a faint voice suddenly cracks the silent room.

you want to laugh. with your clouded mind, you can’t make up whether it’s dabi who just said it or is it only a voice in your mind that subconsciously replays the same damn sentences that you heard way too often after each time you were laid bruised and limp on the bed, in the exact same position as you and dabi are now. nonetheless, you remain still and ignore it as your eyelids start to feel too heavy to keep your eyes open and your vision fades into darkness, despite the warm orange morning glow looming in the corner of the room as the sun begins to rise. 

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[sei-hoe]

manager pt. 3

ok, it’s finally getting spicy in here y’all.  this is my favorite chapter so far, actually idk because pt. 2 and the fingers (drools), but there’s more of that in here heheh.  i hope you enjoy!!!

Reader x Tendou Satori feat. Ushijima & Semi

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

TW: gaslighting, manipulation, fingering, hand kink, sex, language, toxic men omg

WC: 2.8k

Summary: Practice has ended, do you go through with what you have planned with Tendou? (spoilers: yes you do 🥵)

The final whistle blew signaling the end of practice.  The team huddled together by the water cooler next to where you were sitting on the bench.  Feeling as though you should join them, you stood up and walked over to stand next to Tendou.  His body was close, heat radiating off his damp skin.  He smelled like sweat, it wasn’t a bad thing though.  As much as he fooled around during practice he also worked very hard, making himself one of the best middle blockers in the prefecture.  You looked up at him as Ushijima gave his closing remarks to the team, he looked down at you with a lazy half smile giving you instant butterflies as you quickly looked away, blushing.  

The huddle was dismissed, Tendou pulled you aside, lightly stroking your arm with his bandaged fingertips.  “I’m going to shower real quick.  Wait for me?  I’ll be like five minutes.”

You nodded and Tendou jogged in the direction of the locker room. As you started packing up your belongings you were getting lost in thought, did you want this? You could just leave.  You knew what was going to happen if he got you alone.  Casually flirting was one thing, but being alone with him in his car was another.  It’s not that you weren’t attracted to Tendou, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to do anything sexual with him yet.  You felt like throwing up, what had you gotten yourself into?  Before you could work through things in your head Ushijima cleared his throat to make his presence known.  

“I don’t know what your relationship with Tendou is…” he lied.  “But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

You looked anywhere but his eyes, embarrassed as you stuttered out an answer. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lied back to him.  

He smiled as he walked to sit on the bench next to you, taking a drink from his water bottle.  “Then it looks like I know something you don’t.”  You looked at him, confused.  

“Tendou is planning on you giving him head tonight in his car.”  The captain spoke bluntly.  “He told me in great detail during practice.”

“Oh god.” You cradled your head in your hands.  What have you done?  

“Is that not something you want?”  He feigned concern.  You wanted to disappear, to be anywhere but there.  You didn’t want to talk about this with the guy you liked, the guy you had fantasies about.  He leaned closer, “because if it’s not, you shouldn’t have led him on like that.” 

Your eyes widened as your head whipped in his direction.  “What?”

He took a breath. 

“Did you know that we are ranked within the top eight teams in the whole country?”  Ushijima looked off towards the court while you looked at him, eyes glassy and focused.  “That’s something that takes rigorous practice and time...we don’t have social lives outside of each other.”  

“I don’t unders-”

“That’s where you come in.  You were oh so willing to be our little manager, coming in here all shy and clinging to Tendou.  Don’t you think he deserves it?  Don’t you think we deserve it?”

You were piecing together the puzzle.  Connecting the dots.  None of them had girlfriends, you never saw any of them talking to girls in the hallways during passing periods.  The team had a sleazy reputation, for an unknown reason minutes ago, but now you knew why.  

Ushijima scoffed when he saw your appalled expression. “Don’t act like you’re so surprised. Why else did you come here? To make friends?”  He leaned closer, his whispered breath hitting your ear, “we’ll be the best friends you ever had”.  

Maybe a part of you wanted this and knew it was coming.  You told yourself this morning that this was a bad idea but you came anyway.  You were still shocked at Ushijima’s behavior.  You now knew the look he had given you before practice began wasn’t anger, but arousal and maybe jealousy.  Then it hit you, just as much as you wanted Ushijima, he wanted you back.

“Sorry to embarrass you, but Tendou told me about your cute little crush.” He wasn’t sorry.  He loved the panicked look in your eyes, it made you more pliable.  You put your head back in your hands willing this moment away.  

“Ah ah”, he tutted, pulling your hands away.  “Look at me.”   His sweaty palms coerce your head to turn in his direction. You hesitantly lift your glistening eyes to his stern ones. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” He stares into your eyes convincing you that this is all okay.  He’s okay with your crush, he’s okay with your hesitance.  He leans in closer, face only inches away from yours, his thigh brushing against yours, a warm contrast to the freezing metal sticking to the back of your thighs.  

He whispered against your lips.  “Tell me to stop.  Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

He waited a beat and you remained silent as he pressed his lips against yours. His mouth was hot and wet.  Even though you knew it was coming it still took you by surprise.  Your wide eyes eventually fluttered shut as you leaned into the kiss, resting your hand on his hard chest, gripping his practice jersey.  His heart beats were steady, opposite to your sporadic ones.  You felt his tongue licking against your lips, attempting to gain access to your mouth.  You let him in, savoring the moment that your tongues intertwined in your mouth.  This wasn’t your first kiss by any means, but it was your first kiss with Ushijima and one that you will remember forever.  

The door to the gymnasium opened with the sound of a metal creaking against metal followed by footsteps and two voices.  Ushijima pulled away from the kiss slowly, strings of saliva still connecting his mouth to yours until he distanced himself enough for them to break.  

Looking into your eyes he spoke with a half smile, “You gonna be good for us?”

“Mhm.” You nodded hazily as Ushijima looked over your shoulder to investigate the disturbance.  Tendou and Semi walked over to the two of you, shit-eating grins on both faces.  Ushijima stood up and bridged the gap between you and the two new arrivals.  They began talking about you like you weren’t sitting there, mouth agape wondering what the fuck was going on. 

“Well, what do you think captain?” Tendou asked enthusiastically.  “Do I know how to pick ‘em or what?”

“She’ll be perfect...well done”.  Ushijima pondered.  

“That’s as much of a compliment you’re going to get from him.” Semi laughed.    

“You ready to go baby?” Tendou looked at you.  You nodded, quickly packing up your backpack and grabbing your phone.  Tendou laced his hand through your own as you walked to the parking lot.  He smelled good, his hair was still damp from his shower so it wasn’t sticking up straight like normal.  

The cool night air hit you as you exited the building making you wrap your jacket around yourself tighter.  You looked back at Ushijima and Semi who turned to the opposite side of the parking lot.  Ushijima held your gaze, the same look on his face as earlier, the one you couldn’t quite place.  

“Have fun!” Semi yelled across the parking lot.  Tendou chuckled and smiled down at you.  “We will.”  He answered to you instead.  

_____

Tendou’s car is pretty much exactly what you would picture.  Messy.  Fast food bags in the backseat, school papers everywhere, various volleyball paraphernalia and empty energy drink cans littering the floor.  

“Shit, sorry” he murmured as he brushed past you to throw everything that was occupying the passenger seat into the back. He gestured for you to get in.  Hesitantly you ducked down and slid into your seat.  Was this safe? Should you trust these practical strangers?  Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the driver’s side door opening and Tendou’s legs making their way into the car followed by the rest of him.  He just seemed like one of those tall lanky guys that would drive the smallest beat up car.  

One of those tall lanky guys who had a long, thick cock to match. 

You looked out the window as you thought about what was about to happen, taking a deep breath you reflected. You wanted this, you repeat this to yourself.  What else did you have to do? You’re going to be involved in school activity, or rather a school activity is going to be involved in you.  Whatever.  You thought about what Ushijima said.  About how hard the team works, every single day.  Don’t you think we deserve it? His words resonate in your head.  You took a hesitant look at Tendou.  He was scrolling through his phone while his car warmed up.   Doesn’t he deserve it? 

You lean across the center console to put your head on his shoulder.  Tendou locked his phone, setting it on the dashboard, chuckling, “I have to hand it to ‘em, Ushi always knows just what to say.”

“You deserve it Tendou.” you looked up at him with innocent eyes. You don’t know where this sudden courage was coming from but you reached down to grab his hand that was resting on this thigh. Taking his pointer finger between your thumb and pointer finger you begin lightly rubbing, moving up and down his stupidly long finger.  His eyes went half-lidded and he quietly groaned as you made your way closer to his face.  Completely mesmerized by your soft ministrations he hooked his arms underneath yours and moved you onto his lap.  His erection was poking against your ass, your suspicions confirmed that his cock matched his body type.  

Whispering against his soft pink lips, “you like having your fingers played with?” 

He closed the gap between your mouths desperately.  His kiss was different from Ushijimas. Where he felt practiced and calm, Tendou’s kiss felt heated and needy.  His tongue instantly slipping into your mouth to lick everywhere he could reach; your cheek, teeth, tongue, lips; nothing was excluded.  He was rutting up onto your ass desperate for any kind of stimulation he could get.  You were still stroking his fingers as he brought both hands in front of your face.  

“Suck.” he pushed his pointer and middle fingers past your lips, you accepted them greedily, wetting them with the excessive amount of saliva your mouth has been producing.  Leaning back in his seat he watches you, mouth slightly agape, smiling.  He pushes further, too far, causing your throat to constrict around his digits. 

“You gonna gag on my cock like that too you little slut?”

You moan, unashamedly taking everything he would give you.  He continues to rub himself against you, grabbing your half exposed ass with his other hand feeling your lacy panties for the first time.  

“See you act all innocent, but you’ve been wearing this underneath your skirt all day?”  His hand caresses the fat of your ass and squeezes its way around to the front of your thigh until his fingers are playing with the hem of your panties on your upper leg. His bony fingers snake their way under your panties, moaning as he feels the evidence of your arousal, thick and slippery on his fingertips.  

“You don’t need any prep at all do you?” he condescends.  His fingers toy with your wet little hole, playing with the tight ring keeping him out of your cunt.  He pushes in with two fingers.  It didn’t matter how wet you were, it was a stretch, length and girth-wise.  You winced, biting down slightly on the fingers still penetrating your throat.  Pulling his fingers out of your mouth he reached down to release his aching cock from his sweats.  His other hand pulling your panties to the side you felt his cock brush against your folds.  

“Looks like we’re going to have to save that blow job for next time.” he mentions as he begins prodding your cunt with the tip of his painfully hard cock.  You wished you were able to get a good look at it, but you supposed you could save that for next time as well.  The stretch was burning as he slid into your drippy hole, inch by inch.  His head tipped back in pleasure, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Seizing the opportunity, you latched onto his neck, sucking bruises onto his pale complexion as he began to bottom out.  

He pulled you off of his neck by your hair,  “don’t do that.” Embarrassed, your cheeks began to heat up, but a blush wasn’t given the opportunity to form as he began to move inside of you.  Your gummy walls grip every ridge and vein of his cock as he holds onto your hips.  

“Can’t be all marked up for games” he grunts, his eyes shut tightly, savoring the way you feel around him.  

“Sorry Tend-”

“Aww, getting all shy on me now, huh? Where’d the little girl who was sucking on my fingers go?” You buried your face in the crook of his neck as he wreaked havoc on your poor little pussy.  You could act as confident as you wanted, but this was still a crazy experience for you.  You opened your eyes to take in the scene in front of you.  Tendou’s neck was flushed, damp from sweat, veins jutting out ever so slightly.  You lick a cautious stripe up his most prominent vein.  He chuckles, “that’s ok baby, you can do that”. His hand is still weaved in your hair as he lets you have your fun.    

The car windows were fogging up as the sun was almost completely set.  “Fuck baby, you feel so good.”  You feel your pussy clenching down on him and a familiar feeling churning in the pit of your stomach.  He could feel it too, reaching down he toys with your clit.  Rubbing small circles around it, various mixtures of praise and degradation pouring from his mouth, egging you on.  

“You gonna cum for me? Huh?” he goads.  “I want you to.”  That’s all it took to push you over the edge.  His thumb stills, but applies pressure as you spasm and moan over his cock and fingers.  Head now heavy with sleep you rest your head on his warm shoulder.  

“I don’t think so.” he commands, shaking his head and  pulling you upright by the hand still attached to your hair.  “You��re gonna watch me ruin this pussy.” 

His humping was getting sloppy and uncontrolled and you began to get overstimulated. 

 “You on the pill?”  You nod, eyes glued to his.  “Thank fuck,” several hurried thrusts later, his thrusting stilled and he was spilling himself inside of you.  

 “Fuuuckkk,” he moaned, still holding your head in place ensuring that you were watching.  You felt so full, his thick, sticky seed finding a nice home inside of you.  He took a moment to catch his breath, releasing your hair from his sweaty palm, letting his head fall back against the headrest.  He grabs his phone from the dashboard, to snap a quick picture of your abused cunt before you could protest. 

“For later,” he murmurs, staring at the screen illuminating his face.    

He pulled out and tucked himself back into his sweats.  You felt so empty all of a sudden, your pussy still molded to the shape of him.  He slid your panties back in place.

“We wouldn’t want any to slip out,” he smiled lazily at you.  

___

The drive home was a quiet one.  The radio was playing quietly in the background and the sun had completely set at this point.  The only light was coming from the headlights in oncoming traffic.  You directed him whenever he had to make a turn, but otherwise neither of you said a word. He had his hand resting on your thigh, which was reassuring you suppose.  Maybe he was just tired after cumming.  You had arrived in front of your house in record time; Tendou was a bit of a reckless driver.  You unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for your backpack, not expecting another interaction.  But he got out of the car to walk around to open your door, something you hadn’t expected. 

Getting out of the car and walking towards your front door you mutter, “thanks Tendou, I’ll...uh...see you tomorrow I guess.” 

“Hey, come here,” he spoke, pulling your arm towards him.  You crash into his chest.  Raising a finger to your chin, he lifts it.  “You were everything I needed you to be today.” He kisses you on the lips then takes a step back. 

“Also I kinda love knowing that you’re keeping my cum warm for me in there,” he ran his hand up your lower abdomen. Tendou released you from his hold and circled back around the car.  You stood there once again, mouth agape, face beet red. 

“See you tomorrow manager.” 

[gubler-me-up]

Ace

Request: Can I get a one shot for the episode 52 pickup with Spencer x female reader? Like with the scene specifically where Spencer is trying to hand out the flyers but none of the woman take one, but reader approaches him to take one along with his number or something? Whatever else your mind can come up with please.

A/N: Thanks for the prompt, @just-call-me-non​! Very specific episode request! I had to take an hour out of my day to rewatch this episode to accurately get the storyline across. Hopefully it does your idea justice! (Also, I know this was posted a day late, but I was relaxing all Friday i didn’t forget about your request i swear)

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: None

Word count: 1.3k

--------------

Another Saturday night out with your girls should have been a blast. Unfortunately, it was packed with embarrassingly entitled socialites and toxic masculinity. The music also wasn’t helping because the DJ couldn’t pick a good song if his life depended on it. If you wanted to listen to EDM house music, you would have just stayed home and played a YouTube playlist full of them.

Due to your boredom, your eyes started to wander around the club as you and your friends were huddled in a corner trying to make the best of the night. Your eyes had landed on something quite interesting though. Or you should say, someone.

A tall brunet with flyers in his hands was talking to a group of women who couldn’t care less about what he was telling them. They looked as if he was speaking a frightfully terrible language by the way their faces twisted. You, however, were intrigued by the sight you were watching and wanted to get a better view.

“I’ll be back,” you told your friends.

“Where are you going?” One asked.

“I think I’ve found something of interest,” you said.

They all followed your gaze to the lanky, awkward guy you were staring at. The women had walked away from him, so he was left with no choice but to desperately try to convince someone to hear him out. They all looked back at you with questionable stares.

“He looks cute, but he seems like one of those awkward, stiff types. How did he catch your attention again?” Another friend asked.

“Thought I should help him out. I wanna see what he’s handing out,” you explained.

You took the last sip of your cosmo before placing it down on the table. You fluffed up your hair a bit and brushed down any wrinkles in your dress. Your friends watched you in amusement as you prepped yourself to go over to him.

“Get him, tiger,” another said followed by a meow.

You laughed at their sarcasm before walking over to him. He had no idea you were walking towards him as he flailed around a single flyer in his hand trying to convince someone to take it. Since he had about 30 more of where that came from you decided to help him out. You grabbed the one he was flailing around from out of his hands to look at it. He turned around to look at you, surprised someone had actually taken it from him. You looked at him with a smile and held up the picture.

“Who’s this?” You asked him.

“Uh, it’s um, this guy we’re-and when I mean we’re I mean my team and I-uh,” he stuttered.

You giggled at him stumbling over his words as he struggled to comprehend why you were giving him the time of day. You looked at the picture as he finally told you about some sort of murderer on the loose. It was a very vague sketch, so you looked at him with a quizzical expression.

“How do you ever expect to find this guy with a picture like this?” You asked.

He awkwardly chuckled. He held up the stack of flyers in his hands so you could see them clearly. He put his hand in front of the scar which was sketched above the man’s left eyebrow. You raised your eyebrows curiosity.

“Well, the funny thing is some witnesses say he had a scar right here,” he lifted his hand up to reveal the scar.

You stared intently at the scar on the drawing. Then he lowered his hand down to cover it again. What happened next made you widen your eyes with amazement.

“And some say he doesn’t,” he said as he lowered his hand down to reveal an image with no scar.

You stupidly grinned at his trick. Your ear-to-ear grin made him smile as he lowered the flyers. You grabbed his hand with the flyers and placed it back up so you could see it again. There was really no scar there anymore.

“How did you even do that?” You asked.

“Pure magic,” he said.

“Okay, magician, what’s your name?” You asked.

“Spencer Reid. I-uh-work for the FBI, so that’s why I’m-”

“Yeah, I heard your reason why you were here the first time. Along with you saying some sort of statistic about men being more likely to kill targeted victims over women who are more likely to kill related victims.”

He looked at you stunned. It seemed as if he was shocked you were listening to him ramble. You may have been looking at the sketch of the person he was looking for, but you couldn’t help but to invest in what he was saying.

“You were actually listening?” He asked.

You nodded. “I’m a sucker for true crime. That’s not to say I want to be murdered in real life, but it’s cool that you do this for a living. You know, saving lives and catching the bad guy.”

A genuine, non-awkward smile appeared on his face. “Yeah, I do something like that.”

“And what do you do when you’re not kicking ass and taking names?” You asked.

He chuckled. “I think kicking ass is more up my colleague’s ally, but I personally don’t do anything interesting. Well, interesting to most people.”

“Surprise me.”

“I like to master different chess moves in my spare time and read. I like reading pretty much anything and everything. Twice.”

“That sounds interesting to me. Maybe one day you can teach me that trick and how to play a mean game of chess.”

Spencer looked at you astonished at the way you kept engaging with him. You were starting to think girls like you or even girls in general never took an interest in his quirky behaviour. To you it was enticing.

“Um, thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t even get your name,” he said.

You smirked. “How about you give me your number and you can figure it out then. Maybe even discuss each other’s favourite books if you’d like.”

He nodded his head with a tiny smile that slowly appeared on his face. You couldn’t stop looking at him as he did the smallest gestures. He was more attractive than you initially thought from across the club. Every mannerism he did intrigued you more about his character.

“I’d like that,” he said.

“Great. What’s your number?” You asked.

He smirked. “It’s near your heart.”

You looked at him funny as he gave you that riddle. You placed your hands in your dress near your left breast. You felt something at the side of your bra. You took it out to see the ace of hearts.

It was nice meeting you, Y/N.

His number followed right after. You were floored. Not only did he figure out your name, but he also gave you his number in the suavest way possible. He didn’t even have to touch your breasts to do it. That was some respectful magic.

“Now you’re telekinetic too?” You asked.

He shrugged. “Can’t say. Maybe if you call I’ll give you a hint.”

“Can you guess when I’m going to call too?”

“That wouldn’t be guessing, but profiling. I have a feeling I’ll be hearing from you in the next two hours.”

“I’ll make sure I don’t keep you waiting.”

He chuckled. “Bye, Y/N. It was really nice talking to you.”

With that he walked into the crowd where he was met by a tall, muscular black man. He put his arm around Spencer and gave him an impressed smile. You giggled as you watched the scene before they fully disappeared into the crowd. You looked back at the ace of hearts and couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe you were starting to have a new thing for quirky magicians.

—–

MASTERLIST

[nomsugayoongi]

Recurring

Pairing: Jungkook X OC female

Warnings: None yet.

Synopsis: Jungkook meets the girl of his dreams...but the problem is exactly that. She's in his dreams.

Note: So I had this really bizarre idea for a fluff fest (and eventual smut fest because it's JK and I can't help myself) It's written and edited on a phone so forgive any mistakes and don't be afraid to let me know what you think.

"Huh?"

Jungkook looked around. He didn't know this street. Nothing looked familiar. Not the tall, grey buildings, not the neon lights casting colourful shadows on the dark pavement, nothing. He frowned, eyes scanning the signs on the building right beside him. It was one of those 24 hour convenience stores. The lights were on but he couldn't see anybody inside. No cashier behind the counter. No customers. He had no idea what time it was. Come to think of it, he didn't actually have any idea about anything. He felt a splash of water hit his face and glanced up at the dark sky. No stars. No moon. Just....black. The glow from the street lights cast faint beams and highlighted the beginning drops of rain. He looked down at the pavement. He didn't have shoes on. His bare feet looked strange against the concrete but he couldn't feel the cold ground. His frown deepened as he scraped his foot lightly against the path, expecting to feel the rough texture but feeling nothing. The rain started coming faster, droplets hitting the back of his neck as he stared down at his feet. He wasn't afraid. Even in this strange situation, with not a soul in sight, there was no fear. Just curiosity. He looked either side of him then down the dark street ahead. There was something glowing at the end of the street that piqued his interest. A soft, warm ball of light that flickered slightly even though there was no wind.

He started walking, the rain coming down harder, huge splotches soaking through his t shirt yet he didn't feel particularly cold. He looked in the windows of the closed shops as he walked past, the silhoutte of the items in the window seeming even darker against the faint light bouncing off the glass. It was so quiet. No traffic sounds, no voices. Just the sound of the rain hammering against the pavement. As he approached the end of the street, he squinted at where the light now seemed bigger and brighter. Pure darkness spanned out in front of him, but it was moving, shimmering and rippling as the rain hit the surface. Water. A lake or something. He couldn't tell how big it was. The darkness of the water sort of blending into the darkness of the night and made one big horizon of black. As he approached the edge of the water, he noticed that the ball of light that had caught his attention was a gently swinging lamp hung inside a gazebo. A rickety looking wooden Jetty connected the floating gazebo to the embankment and he quickened his pace to get to it, mainly because the rain was now hammering down so hard that he was drenched from head to toe but also because the soft glow of light against the stark backdrop of darkness was very inviting. He made his way up the jetty, hearing the wooden slats creak and groan under his feet then smiling as he reached the gazebo. It was cute. It seemed....out of place. An octagonal, wooden structure with a slate roof and half open sides. Benches ran around each edge, padded with thick, comfy looking cushions. A lantern hung from the center of the roof, swaying slightly above a small table. It really was out of place. It looked brand new, like something you'd see in the garden section of an IKEA catalogue. He wondered whether he was ok to sit since he was wet through but it was literally the middle of the night and there wasnt a soul around, so he sat, picking the edge closest to the open water and facing out so he could watch the rain bounce off the water's surface. He liked the overlapping circular ripples it created, like an intricate pattern on the glassy surface. It was nice. Absolute silence apart from the rain and the sound of his own steady breathing. He felt calm. Peaceful. Content even. Happy to just sit in the darkness and listen to the rain. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, the smell of the water and fresh rain causing a small smile to play around his lips.

"Hey. Soggy boy. What you doing in my dream?"

His eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly. "What the hell?" He muttered, confused. Stood at the entrance to the gazebo was a girl, her arms folded across her chest as she surveyed him. There was no way she could have snuck up. He would have heard her footsteps on the crappy old jetty. "Where did you come from?" He frowned, looking around with bemusement. "What do you mean where did I come from? It's my dream. Where did you come from?" She retorted. He looked back towards the street where everything was still exactly the same. No people. No sound. "I was over there." He muttered, pointing. "Wait...dream?" He questioned, completely confused. She nodded. "Yeah. This is my dream spot. I've been here loads of times. Want to tell me why you're crashing my dream? And why you're dripping on my cushions?" She said, arms still folded expectantly. "It's raining." He said stupidly. "I got caught in it. Wait...why aren't you wet?" He asked, suddenly noticing that she was stood among the falling rain but was bone dry. "It's my dream." She repeated slower, as though he was kind of dumb. "I decide what happens. I didn't decide on you though. Why are you here?" She asked, a frown creeping between her brow. He shrugged, still looking around curiously. "Dunno. Are you sure it's your dream? I think it might be mine." He reasoned. That would make sense. Not knowing where he was, the bare feet, the body temperature rain, the entire lack of life signs. "It's definitely mine." He muttered, more to himself than to her. "Yeah, cause I went to bed after practise and woke up here...except I didn't wake up. I must still be asleep. Huh! That's pretty cool." He said, a slow grin spreading across his face at the idea of being aware of his own dream. "Excuse me. Soggy boy. If it's your dream then why am I in it and why are you having it in my dream space?" She asked. He shrugged again, finally looking at her. She had long dark hair that was poker straight and impossibly shiny, it fell around a cute face, huge, sparkly eyes, button nose, pouty lips. Good cheekbones. She was short but curvy. Her expression displaying her curiosity. Definitely his dream. She looked like a strange Mish mash of all the things he liked in a girl. She was cute. Very cute. "Does it matter if it's your dream or my dream? Either way, it isn't real. Whoever is dreaming will wake up at some point and it'll end anyway. Why waste it trying to figure out whose head were in?" He reasoned. She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Yeah I guess. I'm just...not used to anyone being here." She shrugged. "Well I'm not here technically." He mused. "Neither are you." She hummed, studying him curiously. She'd dropped her folded arms and had taken a seat on the bench opposite his. She was staring at him intently. "You got a name or should I just keep calling you soggy boy?" She asked. "Jungkook" he smiled. "Huh?" She said, eyebrow raised. "Jungkook" he repeated. "Why the face?" She shook her head, still looking a little bemused. "That's not an English name." She muttered. He chuckled, now also looking bemused. "Why would it be? I'm not English." He replied. "But you've lived here a while? Your accent." She muttered. "Lived where? What accent?" He frowned. "In England." She stated. He chuckled again. "What are you talking about? I don't live in England. I've never lived in England. I barely know how to speak English although I've been learning for years. English is hard." He mused. "But you're speaking English now." She exclaimed. He frowned, laughing. "No. I'm speaking Korean." He said slowly. She looked like her head was about to explode. "No. You're definitely speaking English. I understand you. How would I understand you if you were speaking Korean?" She said, puzzled. "YOU'RE speaking Korean." He frowned. "EH? I'm speaking English. I wouldn't be able to speak Korean if my life depended on it, let alone carry out a whole ass conversation with some soaked stranger in my dream gazebo." She said defensively. He couldn't help but laugh. As far as dreams went, this was by far one of his most

interesting. "Ok. So you're speaking English. I'm speaking Korean...yet we understand each other. Cool." He smiled. She continued to look confused. "Ok so....Jungkook right?" She asked. He nodded. "Are you from Korea?" Again he nodded. "And to you it sounds like I'm speaking Korean?" Another nod. "Hmmphhh. I've had some pretty weird dreams before but this one takes the cake."

It felt like hours passed as they talked. He found out her name, that she was 2 years older than him and English. She worked in a hospital during the night and slept during the day. He told her about himself, the band, his band mates, he touched on what his life was like but didn't go into it much. It was nice to just talk to someone, even if he had to dream them up to do it. Without him even realising, the darkness surrounding them had begun to melt away, the sky lightening into colourful purples and eventually soft pinks as the sun came up. He didn't notice when the rain stopped or the silence gradually giving way to the sound of chirping birds. He was too engrossed in conversation to pay attention to his surroundings. He'd liked the sense of solitude when he first got here but quickly preferred having someone to talk to. She was attentive and interested, listening and asking questions, laughing when he made a joke. He felt...normal, which was nice. He was almost disappointed when she pointed out that time was almost up. He looked around, surprised. "When did daytime happen?" He frowned. She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Somewhere between your pressures as an idol and my frustrations at work." She shrugged. He gazed at the water, now noticing the lush green trees that surrounded the embankment, the colour of the sky, the sparkly surface of the water. "Wow. This place is beautiful." He muttered, eyes skimming his surroundings in awe. She smiled, nodding slowly. "It's my favourite place." She said softly. "Where is it? Is it real?" He questioned. Nothing about it was familiar to him. "I don't know. I've never actually been. I just...dreamed it once and liked it so I kept coming back. A lot of my dreams happen here." She sighed. He nodded thoughtfully. "I hope I come back." He whispered. "Yeah, you didn't get to try any of the cool dream stuff." She chuckled. He raised an eyebrow, pulling his eyes from the beautiful scenery to look at her. "What cool dream stuff?" She rolled her eyes again, making him feel like a rookie. "Y'know. The stuff you can't do when you're awake. Flying, floating, changing stuff, making yourself different. It's your head. Your dream. You control it. Once you realise you're dreaming, the laws of the universe become more flexible. Dreams don't care about gravity or continuity. Your head. Your rules." She explained. He looked at her wide eyed. "Really?" He muttered. She laughed, her laugh was musical and made him feel warm. "Mmm hmm. The trick is to realise you're dreaming quickly, gives you more time to play." Her smile was childlike, eyes twinkling with excitement. It was infectious, provoking his own giddy smile. "Is there time now? Quickly?" He asked. She hummed, looking at the sky. "Don't think so. Look." She pointed upward, his eyes followed. The sky seemed to be fading. He blinked a couple of times, trying to focus but everything was blurring. "No. I'm not ready yet." He frowned. He gripped the cushion in his fists, trying to hold on. "I want to stay." He heard her light, musical laughter but it sounded further away. "I hope you're here next time. See you, soggy boy."

Jungkook awoke, blinking rapidly as he looked around. He was in his bedroom. He sat up, frowning, his stomach still churning. He rubbed his eyes with a sigh. Of course he was in his bedroom. Where else would he be. Still, that was some dream. He looked at the familiar surroundings feeling almost a pang of sadness. "That was a good dream." He whispered to himself, feeling almost silly that a small part of him was already hoping to go back.

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

Perfect

A/N: I actually wrote something!! Hallelujah!! Special thanks to @negans-lucille-library for beta reading and putting up with all of my questions!!

Summary: Life with Dean is perfect.

Pairing: Dean x reader (I believe this reader is pretty gender neutral, so I hope some guys out there get to read this and enjoy it, too!)

Warnings: None, really. Mostly fluff. Bit of angst.

Word count: 3497 words

Prompt: For the @spnfanficpond's S14 Weekly Episode Challenge, week 19. I used one prompt. It will be bolded. Not listing it here because spoilers.

Two machetes swung in unison, lopping off two vampire heads and leaving you looking at the proud face of your husband as the bodies fell between you. A beam of sunlight burst through a broken board in the roof of the barn and lit up dust motes in the air around Dean’s head, making him look positively resplendent. You grinned at each other before each of you motioned over the other’s shoulder, and then both spun away, taking down two more vampires with almost synchronized movements. It was always like a dance, fighting with Dean. The two of you had fought together for so long now, you were one unit, just taking down monster after monster in fights that almost looked choreographed.

When the last vampire head hit the ground with a satisfying thump and the corresponding body slumped after it, you both heaved a satisfied sigh and smiled at each other. With a quiet nod, you separated, making sure the barn was completely clear of monsters, inside and out, then met again in the middle with a quick, chaste, kiss.

“I’d do better, but you have a little something right… about...” –you gestured at his cheek, then really all over his face– “well, everywhere, really,” you said with a grimace. “Don’t feel like turning into a vampire just because I wanted to kiss my husband.”

Dean pretended to try and kiss you messily, laughing when you pushed him away. “You mean, it’s not worth two days of puking your guts up with the vampire cure to give your hot-as-hell husband a proper kiss?” Letting you go, he wiped his machete off on the shirt of one of the headless bodies and then headed toward the water pump just outside the barn doors. “I must be losing my touch!” he joked as he began pumping to fill the trough below the faucet.

You joined him in cleaning both your weapons and yourselves, enjoying the clear spring air and bright sunshine warming your back, and soon you were able to safely risk showing your affection. As did every other part of you, your lips fit together perfectly. Dean kissed you so well, you wondered how you ever thought anyone else was any good at it. He took over all your senses, making little happy noises when your tongue slid against his, surrounding you with his arms, filling your nose with the scent of his aftershave and sweat, and leaving the taste of the pie he’d had with breakfast in your mouth. You finally came up for air, still trading little nibbly kisses until you both accepted that the hunt wasn’t done, yet, and you needed to finish it. You stayed in his arms an extra moment, foreheads touching, both reaffirming that you were still here - still alive - and uninjured after the fight.

“Love you,” you whispered, looking through your lashes at the bright green of Dean’s eyes. They always seemed greener in the spring, somehow.

“Ditto,” he whispered back, before landing one last peck on your lips and smacking your ass playfully.

“You’re lucky I love you, or I would have told Sam how you watched that movie, and enjoyed it, a long time ago!” you teased as the two of you split up to head to Baby’s trunk and get cleaning supplies.

Walking ahead of you with those long legs, Dean turned around, walking backward for a step, and gasped loudly. “You wouldn’t!” he cried with eyes wide and his mouth turned into a pout, clearly knowing that you really wouldn’t, but playing your game, anyway.

“That’s right, I wouldn’t because I love you. Now, aren’t you lucky?” you scolded while still grinning.

He stopped you, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you, yet again. “Luckiest man in the world,” he echoed, before turning away and unlocking the trunk.

While Dean was digging through the trunk to find a matchbook to go with the can of gas you were holding, you saw something move out of the corner of your eye. Years of hunter awareness sent the hair on the back of your neck standing up while you searched the nearby tree line for another sign of movement. The barn was in the back forty of a farm abandoned at least a decade earlier, so wildlife of all kinds had taken over. The tree line was nothing more than just that: a line of trees that marked the edge of the farm. Over the years, bushes and smaller trees had filled in the gaps between the larger trees, making it a more formidable barrier. Where you guessed you might have been able to see through it years ago, now, it was overgrown and impenetrable. Except for the driveway the vampires had tamed, the grass in the surrounding fields was all knee-high and waving in the breeze. Figuring it was either one of the taller weeds in the grass or an animal, you convinced yourself to let it go as Dean slammed Baby’s trunk lid shut.

The barn had plenty of hay for kindling, but much of it had gotten wet from the holes in the roof. Dean was hauling bales and generally kicking up dust when you inhaled a bit and started sneezing uncontrollably.

“Head outside, honey, and I’ll finish up here,” Dean urged while you continued sniffling and sneezing. “Go use up some of those tissues you keep stashing in my car when you think I’m not looking!”

Not able to speak, you just nodded and headed back out into the sunshine, which started another round of sneezes. You were blowing your nose when you saw another bit of movement by the tree line. Keeping your eyes trained on the grass and bushes that had moved, you finished with the tissues and grabbed your gun from the holster on the back of your belt.

Gun trained in front of you, safety off, you slinked towards the tree line, keeping your eyes moving left to right, looking for another anomaly in the swaying of the grass and weeds. When you reached where you’d seen the movement, there were signs that someone had been standing there all around. Trampled grass, broken branches in the trees and bushes, and then footprints in the mud drew you further into the miniature jungle. You were almost out and on the other side when you were grabbed from behind, a hand put over your mouth to dampen your screams.

Whoever it was pulled you backward, knocking you off your feet so you stumbled. The body behind you spun you and pushed you up against a tree, knocking the gun from your hand in the process. You tried to shove an elbow back into their ribs, but it was caught, and you were pinned. Your mind swirled, going through the intel you’d gathered with Dean before the hunt. Both of you had been sure of the headcount, but obviously, you were wrong. One of them must have been away for a few days, but now they were home and pissed.

“Calm down, kiddo, I’m not a monster,” said a very familiar voice as you were pulled away from the tree, but still held tightly. “Just take a breath and relax and we can talk.”

A deep breath, a subtle shift in your body, and the picture in your mind became something almost like your husband, but not. Your muscles relaxed, trusting Dean no matter what was happening, even though your mind still whirled. Through the leaves of the trees and bushes, you saw your husband walk out of the barn, looking for something. Maybe looking for you.

“Of all the things I thought I might see when I walked into your dream, I really didn’t expect to see me.” The arms around you loosened and you whipped around to see a carbon copy of your husband standing there.

Well, almost a carbon copy. Different flannel. Different jeans. Fewer laugh lines around the mouth. Less unadulterated love and affection in the eyes.

“Dream?” you asked stupidly, looking back at your husband as he began searching for you around the barn. You didn’t want to believe it, but as you watched your husband in the distance, you saw the differences, the unreality. That didn’t stop your heart and mind from clinging to him, wanting nothing more than to go back to him.

The Dean next to you sighed. “Yeah, kiddo. I’m sorry, but it’s a dream. You got nabbed by a djinn. Sam’s off getting ingredients for the antidote, but I couldn’t just sit by and watch you dying, so I took some dream root.”

Your husband looked absolutely panicked as he ran towards another part of the tree line, searching for you. The sight pulled at your heart. How he missed your trail through the tall grass was a mystery. You’d have to tease him on his lack of tracking skills later when you got home, after the panic was over.

“I need to go let him know that I’m okay,” you whimpered, taking a step towards where your husband was beating back bushes looking for evidence of you.

Dean gently grabbed your elbow and stopped you. “No, kiddo, you really don’t. He’s not real.” With some effort, he turned you around so you were looking at him, this man who was so close, but not quite your husband. “I’m real, you’re real, and the crappy motel we’re asleep in out there in the real world, that’s real. But this is all crap. You can walk away from it all and come back to what’s real.”

Silent tears dripped down your cheeks. Your mind fought against it, but once the magic trick was revealed, you couldn’t go back to believing. Memories of working beside Dean for years, loving him quietly while he fought and died and came back and fought and died again… they rushed back in and overwhelmed you. Memories of a quiet confession of love, a small wedding, and a shared bed quickly took on the sepia tones of a fading dream. A sob ripped from your throat, and you covered your mouth with your hand to muffle it.

“So,” you croaked, sniffling through the tears, “everything… with him,” you nodded at your husband, still literally beating the bushes to find you, “all the…,” a sob stopped you until you could swallow it down, “all the everything with him, it was all a dream?” Turning back to the Dean in front of you, your heart ripped in two. “Just a stupid fucking dream?” His face twisted as he looked down to avoid your eyes, but he still nodded. “And now you’re telling me that I have to leave?” He nodded again, his eyes still on the ground instead of on you.

Your husband was getting closer. He’d see you in a minute. He’d hold you, and comfort you, and love you the way this Dean never would. You could go home with him, go back to the Bunker, where Sam and Eileen were teaching hunter classes to Jody’s girls and a few other new recruits. Jack and Cas were fixing Heaven but always visited for Sunday dinner. Eileen was pregnant, and you were going to be a godparent, and Dean had already built the crib and bought the biggest stuffed unicorn you’d ever seen. You could go home with him and live an entire lifetime with him and your family until the djinn poison took you.

“No,” you declared. “I don’t have to leave. It’s my choice. I can stay if I want. Even if I know it’s a dream, I can stay here.” Looking at the real man your husband was based on, you shook your head and stepped away from him. “Maybe it’s just a dream, but it’s my dream, and I’m staying.”

Your husband crashed through the bushes and finally caught sight of you, with another Dean holding your elbow in one hand. His gun came up, the safety clicked off, and you stepped in front of the real Dean. The move stopped him from firing but didn’t quell his confusion.

“What’s going on, babe? You know that’s not me, right?”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face. “I know, but don’t shoot. Please don’t hurt him,” you begged. “Just trust me, okay?”

Pushing Dean’s hand from your arm, you walked toward your husband, arms outstretched. He pulled you close and hugged you tightly, gun still pointed somewhat at the other Dean, murmuring about how worried he’d been when he couldn’t find you.

“Who is this guy, anyway? What’s going on?” he asked you, talking into your hair as he held your head against his shoulder with one hand and continued watching his prey suspiciously.

You’d never felt as safe and loved as you did in Dean’s arms. It didn’t matter where in the world you were, or what was happening around you, in Dean’s embrace was your happy place. You’d do anything to stay there. Even die.

“Nothing you need to worry about, honey,” you reassured him, pulling away so you could look him in the eye. “He’s leaving and I’m staying with you. Till death parts us, and then beyond, like I promised.” Cupping his head with your hands, you kissed him, promising to uphold your vows with every fiber of your being.

“Even if it’s only a dream?” your husband asked, his eyes closed as he touched his forehead to yours.

The surprise that he would acknowledge it rocked you, but your decision stayed the same. Nodding, you glanced back at the other Dean – the real Dean – meaning to say goodbye. What you saw there made you pause: pain reflected in glassy eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be a dream,” he said, almost too quietly for you to hear.

You and your husband froze. “What did you say?” you replied, feeling your thoughts move too slowly to fully understand everything that was happening.

“I said,” Dean answered, taking a deep breath, “It doesn’t have to be a dream.”

Your husband felt you pulling away and tightened his hold on you, tugging your chin so you were looking him in the eye. “I love you, honey, and I love our life and we’re gonna live whatever the badass version of ‘happily ever after’ is, remember?” Tears blurred your view of your husband, but you could see the future with him so clearly. “Sammy and Eileen are gonna have their baby, and we’re gonna have the cutest damn niece or nephew ever, and Claire and Kaia are gonna get married, and we’re gonna do the robot at the reception and embarrass the crap outta them, and we’re gonna keep killing monsters until my knees get creaky and your back gives out, and then we’re gonna retire and help Garth with his monster rehab and teach hunter classes in the bunker, right? Maybe get a little house nearby with a porch we can sit on in the evenings and watch the sunset from our rocking chairs. That’s the plan, right?”

Foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, you both sniffled and nodded in agreement.

“Look, I can’t give you a niece or nephew, or a fancy wedding for the girls, or monster rehab and hunter classes,” Dean said from behind you, “but I can give you nights on Baby’s hood watching the stars, and bad jokes while I stitch you up, and the best bottom-shelf bourbon with a side of diner food after a bad hunt.”

Pulling away from your husband a little, you turned your head to hear Dean’s words.

“I can’t promise we’ll get a little house with a porch and a pair of rocking chairs, but I’ll chase the sunset with you in Baby any night you want. Or, if you want to stay in, we can cuddle on my memory foam and watch movies.”

The arms around you loosened, allowing you to turn around, and you could finally see the emotion in Dean’s eyes.

“I’ve wanted to be with you for so long, I can’t even tell you when it started. All I know is that I’ve always thought you deserved the best, and that’s not me.” He waved at your husband, who had let go of all of you except your hand. “He’s better than me, this world is better than me, and if he were real, if this were real, I’d let you go off and live this life without a single regret.” He shook his head, heaved a deep breath, and shrugged. “But it isn’t real – he isn’t real – and you’re not going to live happily ever after, you’re going to die, and I can’t do it. I can’t let you die if there’s anything I can do to stop it. So, this is me, asking for what I want: a future with you. A future where nothing is certain except that I’ll always do whatever I can to make you happy.”

The last link to the dream faded as you dropped your dream husband’s hand and stepped towards Dean. The world around you changed somehow, the colors turning once again to the sepia tones of the dream that it was.

“I always thought you didn’t think of me that way,” you said, your voice trembling with nerves.

“I’ve always thought of you that way,” Dean replied. “But you were so out of my league, I didn’t think you’d ever think of me like that!”

Staring into each other’s eyes, you both chuckled and then reached out towards each other, clasping your hands and moving closer together. Dean had the beginnings of a goofy smile, and you felt it matched on your own face.

“You really mean it? You really want to be with me?” you asked, needing to hear it just one more time.

“How about you shake off this dream and I show you for real?” Dean suggested, bending over, pulling your trusty knife from your boot, and handing it to you.

Holding the knife in your hand, you felt the rightness of it click into place. Dean had given you this knife shortly after you’d met. He’d picked it out with everything about you in mind. It had engravings on the blade and handle that you thought were beautiful, and the handle was a perfect size and shape for your hand. Looking at it, you marveled at how it was so perfectly you, perfectly Dean, and just all-around perfect. Dean had always loved you, and everything about the knife proved it.

“What do I need to do?”

Dean gestured towards his double standing opposite you.

The other Dean – your dream husband – began backing away. “Honey, no! It’s me! We can fix this! It will feel like a lifetime, but you’ll be safe here! No monsters can kill you here! Eileen’s gonna have a girl and that little warrior princess is gonna wrap me and Sammy around her little finger! There are gonna be tea parties! Don’t you want to see all of that?”

In his rambling, he slowed just enough that you were able to catch up to him and slam the knife into his gut. He doubled over, falling to the ground in a heap. As he bled out, still babbling about how life would have been perfect with him, the dream faded to black.

You woke with a gasp, Dean waking in a similar manner at the same time next to you. You both sat up, looking around the room and patting yourselves down. When your breathing settled, all the aches and pains from being strung up by the djinn slammed into you and you groaned.

“Oh, God, that hurts,” you complained, holding your neck where the thick gauze bandage was covering your wound. Looking down at yourself, you saw the dirty clothes and felt the skunky funk that came from being held captive in a dank basement for most of a day.

Gesturing to yourself in all your post-captivity glory, you commented to Dean, “Are you sure you still want to be with me? I mean, I’m not much of a prize.” Although you were supposedly joking, deep down you were giving Dean an out. Just in case he’d only said what he’d said to save your life, and not because he’d meant it.

Dean shifted on the bed until he was sitting right next to you and then carefully cupped your head with his hands so you could only see him.

“I will always want to be with you,” he said, solemnly looking into your eyes so you would see the truth of his words. “You are the best prize. Better than the prize in any cereal box.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t as flawlessly perfect as the kisses you had in your dream – your teeth clashed a little in the beginning, and Dean tasted a little like the chili lime beef jerky you didn’t like – but it was perfect for you.

[rhenuvee]

The Heart in You (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to be a turtle when using Tumblr bc I’m new? My dumbass couldn’t find the delete button- dEaDaSs cLoWnErY right here.

Summary: Both you and Fred are known to have a playful type of rivalry, and none of you two want to be the first to ‘be nice’ to the other. But one day he starts acting weird, and you start feeling bad. 

Warnings: swearing :0

*I realized I’m an idiot for not doing this sooner so tell me if you’d like to be tagged in my future fics. I write for 3 fandoms so please specify which one!*

——————————

Yours and Fred’s rivalry was known to almost everyone in Hogwarts.

You were sort of friends, sure. You had most classes with each other, and sat next to him in Charms. You weren’t always a jumpy type of person, in fact before Fred started annoying you, you were quite shy. You couldn’t bother to remember when the bickering started.

He called you names, stole your belongings, bumped into you purposely in the halls, and now blocked your way when getting out of class. And the worst part, he did it all with that stupidly attractive smile of his. Merlin, how silly did you have to be to be distracted by someone where only their smile could make your knees go weak?

Fifteen seconds left... 

It was almost like the clock was giving you anxiety.

“Class...” started Professor Snape with his slow, dramatic tone of voice. You didn’t want to give Snape the impression that you hated his class, but just this once, you had to be the first one to exit. You moved your leg slightly out of the seat, and your hand gripped your bag tightly, swung over your shoulder.

“... dismissed-”

You dashed for the door immediately, and rather sloppily, probably broke or crumpled up things in your bag, but you didn’t care. To your dismay, you collided with a tall, red headed, figure, smiling right down at you. 

“Nice try princess.” You looked up to lock your gaze with none other than Fred. His smirk met with your scowl.

“Fred stop blocking my way!” You protested, trying to push him out of the way. Sadly, with his years playing as beater, it didn’t take much force for him to use his arms and stay in place.

He used his tall stature to block the doorway of the classroom, with his arm stretched out so you couldn’t get out. This wasn’t a first, in fact, you lost count a few weeks ago. He made you late to quite a few classes and meals. 

A few students exiting gave both of you weird looks, and most treating it as if this wasn’t the first time this happened- because well, it wasn’t. 

“Come on lovebirds, there’s plenty more time at lunch to flirt.” said George. He too seemed tired of your bullshit as he leaned on the wall outside of the class. You huffed as you fixed yourself up, and made an ugly face at Fred. He in turn made a kissy face back at you, which made you rush out the door, with your face flushed red.

That annoying jerk, you thought, he always knew how to get to you. But he wasn’t done with you yet. You made your way to the Gryffindor table and sat across from Angelina. The twins as usual, came bouncing in right behind you and sat next to you, one on each side.

“You know love, if you kept making that face it might get stuck like that.” He said leaning with his elbow on the table. “Oh and how would you know that hm? Is it because it happened to you?” you shot back. But deep inside you knew that wasn’t true- it was the last thing his face would be, he was gorgeous. George ooed at your statement and Angelina rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Liar liar as always (y/n), when will you admit that you’re mad for me.” he said cheekily. Of course he had something to say back that would make your face red. “Another day...” sighs Angelina resting her hand on her forehead.

-----

Your body tensed when Professor McGonagall asked everyone to find partners to practise dancing. None of the boys seemed willing to get up from their seat, who would want to practise with you, let alone ask you to the ball? 

“C’mon let’s go.” said Angelina taking your hand and leading you to the twins. Oh no, not them, not Fred... 

“George would you like to practise with me?” Angelina asked. “Yeah, sure.” replied George before winking to you and Fred. You stood there frozen with your brows furrowed, how could they? 

“Well, let’s get to it darling.” he said. “Tch, whatever.” you muttered turning away from his gaze, and getting slightly hotter when he put his one hand on your waist and the other linked with your hand. 

You kept looking back at McGonagall, trying to follow her steps, and also down at your feet a lot. To be honest, you didn’t want to meet Fred’s eyes. A few minutes later, you realized he hadn’t said anything or teased you at all. You slowly lifted your head to see what was up. 

You were surprised to see his head was also down, looking at his feet. He looked up when he felt your gaze, but instead of his usual smirk and flirty one-liner, you were met with an expression you haven’t seen. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, cheeks with a tiny bit of pink, and eyes filled with... confusion, or concern? 

“Sorry love, I almost stepped on your foot there.” he said sheepishly. This was new. You weren’t sure if he was playing or being genuine. “It’s okay.” you reply quietly, unsure of his behaviour.

Midway through the lesson, you could count the number of times he said “Sorry” or “My apologies darling.” It was quite a lot of times, and the weirdest part was that he seemed truly sorry for accidentally stepping on you a few times. You appreciated that he apologized, but this was strange. When Professor McGonagall announced that the dance lesson was finished, you both sighed, and just stood there for an awkward moment. 

“Reckon whoever’s going to the ball with me will have an interesting dance.” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah...” you said softly.

“So how was it?” asked George as he and Angelina came over from their spot. “Couldn’t really get it...” replied Fred looking down at his hands. Was he... embarrassed? 

Suddenly you felt a little guilty for spurting insults at him earlier, and for hitting him in the arm with your books, and calling him names. Yes, he had done the same too, but it wasn’t like someone as confident as him to get embarrassed and shy. You hoped that it wasn’t your continuous back and forth that made him feel worse of himself.

---

This weird behaviour continued into the next week. People around you were shocked to see you both dialed down at least 50%. You hated to admit it, but you secretly missed the playful banter you had with him.

The Yule Ball was coming closer, and you still didn’t have a date. “Go with Fred.” said Angelina casually. “Are you joking?” you asked. 

“Oh? And I thought you both calmed down and finally admitted your feelings to each other.” You groaned at her statement. Alicia and Katie came over. “(Y/n), why can’t you see that he fancies you too?” asked Katie. 

“W-well even if he does, I don’t think he does anymore...” you said timidly. “He’ll probably say yes anyway (y/n).” said Alicia reassuring you.

You pursed your lips. They knew you liked him, and you hated that. You were a girl who rivalled against him, both competing for a better argument and the last word. You were told constantly that he flirted with you because he fancied you. Some of your retorts you admit might’ve been a bit much, so why would he like you after all that?

---

The next day, you walked in the Charms classroom with a weird feeling in your stomach. You felt even weirder when Fred plopped himself down, and put his stuff down on the floor of his side? Usually he dropped his belongings smack in the middle, invading your space, claiming he needed ‘more room for his long limbs’, and that you could spare a bit of your space. 

“Not going to put your stuff here?” you asked. “Didn’t want to disturb you.” he said before turning back to Professor Flitwick.You could tell that he didn’t sound his best, when he said that. But still, shouldn’t he be busy kicking you under the table, or looking over at your parchment?

---

“Fred!” you shouted a little too loudly as you tried to catch up with him after class ended. He turned around and walked back over to you, before waving to his twin telling him he’ll be there later. Your heart already started beating faster.

“Um, a-are you okay?” you asked. Well, that was a bit too general wasn’t it. “Course, why wouldn’t I be?” he smiled at you, until he went back to looking down at his feet, his hair covering part of his face so you couldn’t see it. Now you really felt sorry, you didn’t know what caused him to act less energetic, less loud, less of himself, but you didn’t want to be one of the sources. 

You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that you were going to hex the girls if this went wrong. “Please (y/n), we wouldn’t want to go without you!” the girls voices from the other day rang in your head. 

“I-I was wondering... if you wanted to go to the Yule ball with me..?” you asked shyly. “Hm?” he hummed, not looking up. 

“Would you like to... gototheYuleballwithme?” you said the last part rather quickly, almost a whisper so no one in the hall could hear you. Your face was beet red, scared to face Fred’s reaction.

...

“Knew you would give in darling.” he said brushing the hair out of his face and smirking at you. The familiar fiery hot boiling feeling began to rise from within you, and unfortunately to your face. “And I would love to go with you.” he said.

“Wh- I- FRED!!” you yelled out of anger and embarrassment. “Always knew you had a heart in you, was just waiting for when you’d show it-” “FRED WEASLEY, YOU’RE SUCH AN ASS!” you yelled frustrated. 

“Aw, it’s okay (y/n), I mean- hey! You there! Guess who asked me to the Yule ball!” he said tapping a random person on the shoulder. “Fred-” “In fact- EVERYONE! GUESS WHO JUST ASKED ME TO THE YULE BALL-” 

“FRED!” you said hitting him in the arm. He was too busy laughing his ass off to feel the pain of your hit. “I hate you.” you hissed, as he calmed down. “I think you’re cute too.” he said sweetly. 

“All that ‘sadness’ since the dance practice for the ball was all an act?” you asked frowning. “Well, I wouldn’t call it sadness. But since you said so- I’m feeling a lot better now that you think I’m handsome.”

“I didn’t say-“

“See you at the ball, love.”  he said bringing his hand softly to the side of your neck to kiss you on the cheek. You froze with your eyes wide. You were ashamed to say that your mind kept replaying the moment. A few seconds later, your mind snapped back to reality, and started going after Fred.

“F-Fred! You can’t just randomly do things like that! Come back here!” you yelled as he too started running. Both your voices echoed in the distance. George and Angelina saw as the two of you rushed by the entrance of the great hall, up to your usual chase.

“How long until you think they get married?” asked Angelina to George.

“Tomorrow.”

—————————

Link to pt 2: Here

[icyharrington]

Is It Wrong?- THE PREQUEL- Part 1 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

so basically,,,, i took my adhd meds for class this morning, and then suddenly got super inspired to write this, so i figured i couldnt waste the focus and wrote this whole ass thing in a few hours. this is the first part of a 3-part prequel series, which details the events leading up to the first part of iiw! just a whole lot more teen angst, drama, fuckboy michael, and more... there isn’t going to be any SMUT smut for obvious reasons, but in a future part there is going to be some dirty stuff ;) anyway i know this will prob flop but this is the first full length fic i’ve written in months and i had a lot of fun writing it, so ima post regardless ^__^

plot: things are turning upside for you now that the biggest fuckboy in school, michael langdon, is about to become your stepbrother. if you think shit is crazy now, wait til you find out that this is just the prequel 😏

warnings: underage drinking, talk of sexual shit, teen angst, sexual tension, taboo relationships 

wc: 4.2k 

i.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

You did, of course you did.

You’d seen him, engulfed in his loneliness, floating from day to listless day like some kind of cheesy Victorian spectre. Too many times you’d found him alone at night, one hand cradling a glass of sewer-brown liquor, the other thumbing through worn photo albums extracted from dust-ridden shelves in the living room. You hadn’t known your mother well- she’d died back when you were still in diapers, but what you did know was that she’d been a vibrant light in your father’s world that had been unjustly snuffed out in its prime. He was a good father to you, and you knew you made him happy despite the dull ache ever-present in his heart, but it was evident that deep down he craved a companionship you could never provide.

So of course you were glad when he met Miriam. Of course you were glad when you’d seen his beaming smile, sharing the news, with the giddiness of a teenage girl in love, that he’d found somebody. He was practically glowing, that night he’d gone out for their first date. You’d known it’d been special to him, because he’d shelled out a few hundred to treat them both to a fancy dinner; he’d even gotten her a bouquet of flowers on the drive there.

You hadn’t said anything when he’d gushed to you the next day about how he’d found the one, despite having known her for only a week; sure, he was rushing into things, but at least he was happy! And that was all you wanted- for him to be happy.

That was why you were especially crushed when you finally met Miriam’s teenage son, whom your father had briefly mentioned with a passing “he goes to your high school, maybe you know him”.

There were so many boys at your school that it was impossible to guess who your potential stepbrother might be. The prospect that you might know him didn’t bother you too much, though you did think it might be a little awkward upon first meeting, but really what did it matter? A little bit of teenage shyness was a small price to pay for your father’s newfound happiness.

That is, until you met him.

So really, it wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

That wasn’t the case at all.

You just really, really, wished he’d fallen in love with anyone other than the mother of Michael fucking Langdon.

ii.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” Miriam gushed over a glass of Chardonnay, which had already been defaced with aubergine lip prints around the golden rim. “Gosh, I just wish I had your hair. Mine was fried from years of coloring, so I just chopped it all off!”

You smiled sweetly, observing your father’s glimmering eyes as he hung onto every word that rolled off her tongue, menus still stacked neatly in the middle of the table as you awaited the fourth and final guest. The three of you had been there for fifteen minutes already, and still her son had not arrived.

I guess his study session is running late, she’d explained, after seeing your furrowed brows at her lack of accompaniment. It was the first time you were meeting your father’s new love interest and her son, and you were rapidly growing more and more anxious in anticipation of the big reveal.

Studying, you’d thought, racking your brain. So maybe he’s one of the nerdy teacher’s pet types? You could certainly live with that; there were a great deal of others you could think of who would be far worse to potentially become step-siblings with.

“Thanks, Ms… Mead, did you say it was?”

You weren’t sure you knew of any boys whose last name was Mead; he definitely had to be someone you hardly knew.

“Oh, honey, call me Miriam,” she said warmly, and you nodded, unsure of what to say next.

Miriam was certainly not what you’d imagined your father’s girlfriend to be like, not that you cared either way; she sported short, dark hair with vampy makeup, clad in all black with a tasteful leather jacket to match. She was also a bit older than you’d anticipated, with fine lines adorning her rounded face, but again, none of that mattered to you at all. She seemed perfectly sweet, and you had no complaints about her thus far.

“Okay, Miriam,” you said, feeling somewhat peculiar addressing an adult by their first name, “so, remind me, how’d you guys meet again?”

“Well, it’s a funny story, really,” Miriam chuckled, plucking a dinner roll from the woven basket across from her and dropping it onto her plate. Her dark eyes shifted from you to your father, poising an impeccably groomed raven brow. “Should you tell it, or should I?”

“Oh, you should, definitely,” your father said, sipping his wine.

“Okay, okay. Well, we were in the meat section at the grocery store when we both reached for the last steak on sale. So I looked at him, and I told him- oh my, this is embarrassing- (your dad’s name), you finish!”

Your father looked like he was about to bust out into laughter, and, suppressing a snort, he blurted, “she said she’d cut off my hands if I took it!”

Immediately after the words left his lips, the two fell into boisterous hysterics that ushered forward a few disapproving glances from the stuffy rich assholes at the next table over, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little yourself. Well… she definitely was a character, but as long as your father was being kept entertained…

“Hey mom,” came a sudden, inappropriately loud male voice from behind you, so out of place that you nearly jumped from your seat. “I was helping Dan with the world war three chapter in our textbook, he sucks at geography shit.”

The voice’s owner revealed himself as a tall, blond boy, who promptly slid into the empty chair beside you, chiseled face slightly obscured by the deep shadows resulting from the dimness of the restaurant’s ambient lighting.

This was, indeed, somebody that you knew, and you blinked twice to be sure that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

It took you a few seconds to register the direness of the situation at hand, but once the thought processed in your mind, you about descended into an out-of-body experience.

This couldn’t be.

No way.

No motherfucking way.

You’d never been all too much of a religious person, but in that moment, you found yourself silently begging whatever higher power was out there that this was all just some sick, cosmic prank.

The boy turned his head to give you a good, uncomfortably long look, stupidly perfect mouth twisting into an amused sideways grin, and then he spoke. “Ohh shit, (y/n)? (Y/n) (y/l/n)?”

He spoke your name like it was a punchline, tongue darting out to lick his teeth like a lizard about to gobble up some poor, helpless cricket as you sat there with your jaw unhinged. You were at a loss for words, or at least almost, managing to croak out a pathetic, puny, “Michael.”

“Oh, good! You guys know each other already!” Miriam exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the complete and utter horror that had just about finished swallowing you whole.

Michael let out a snort, roughly translating to ‘uhh, yeah, not that well… I’d never be caught dead hanging around with someone like (y/n)’, and you grimaced. “Yeah, a little bit. You were in math class with me last year, right?”

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to regain your composure for fear of feeding into this complete asshole’s already massive ego. Yeah, in fact, you had been in math class with him last year, and, not-so-coincidentally, that very same class had turned out to be the one you dreaded the most.

Michael Langdon was the most insufferable, mind-numbing, self-obsessed asshole that you’d ever had the displeasure of knowing; he was easily the most popular boy in the grade, and it was clear he was fully aware of his own high school bullshit prestige. He was loud, cocky and obnoxious; the type of fuckboy- yes, you knew the word fuckboy was overplayed, but in this case there was no other way to describe him- who’d loudly brag about his sexual escapades in the middle of the hallway to his flock of adoring fuckboy minions. He was an I-don’t-do-relationships type, a U-up-text-at-3am type, a Yo-dude-did-you-see-Zoe-Benson’s-tits-today type, a bro-I’m-so-fucking-baked-right-now type. Just the sound of his voice from across a crowded hallway was enough to make you physically recoil. And the worst part?

Every-fucking-body loved him.

Your complaints about him during lunch would only result in your friends cooing dreamily, as though he were some kind of sympathetic creature that needed babying: But he’s so cute, they’d say, twirling locks of their hair and fiddling with their bracelets. I’m sure he’s not that bad.

But he was that bad, and if they took off their shit-stained, teenage hormone-clouded rose tinted glasses for only a second, they’d see exactly what you saw.

It wasn’t only the students, either. He was able to get away with everything and anything he pleased, whether it be sneaking sips of vodka in a water bottle between classes or ditching class to smoke a joint behind the bleachers. There’d even been rumors that he’d fucked some senior girl in the handicap stall during the autumn pep rally while the rest of the student body was packed like sardines in the sticky-hot gymnasium, subjected to incremental barks from the football coach to scream louder and louder.

How the hell was somebody as pleasant as Miriam the mother of such an incurable douchebag? And how, in all the unholy realms of hell, did your luck get so miserably bad that she ended up with your father?

It was all so fucking unfortunate that you almost wanted to laugh. And you probably would have, if not for the chance that you might puke all over your nice new sweater if you opened your mouth.

“You smell funny, hon,” said Miriam before you could reply. “Was Dan burning incense in his room?”

Oh, god. So she was one of those oblivious parents. You rolled your eyes; it made a lot of sense when you thought about it.

“Huh? Oh. Um, yeah. Incense,” Michael said, before suddenly extending his arm across the table to your father. “Oh shit, how rude of me. I’m Michael. Nice to meet you, man.”

Your father seemed unfazed my Michael’s distinct lack of manners as he accepted the boy’s hand and shook it, and you felt yet another knot twist up in the pit of your stomach as you realized that your father, too, had somehow been cast under Michael’s spell.

“Michael, we talked about this,” Miriam said under her breath, like she was scolding a child who didn’t know any better. “Keep the potty mouth to a minimal when we’re out in public, especially while we’re in such a nice restaurant.”

“Oh, sh…oot, sorry, mom,” Michael said with a faux-sheepish smile, his eyes flickering with amusement despite his supposed remorse. “And sorry to you too, sir. Bad habits.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mike- can I call you Mike?” your father said as they released hands, moving his to rest atop Miriam’s on the cloth-sheathed table. “I remember what it was like being a boy your age.”

You scoffed, loud enough that the table fell silent for a moment, and quickly you disguised it with a cough. Your cheeks went hot as all eyes laid on you, and you frantically scanned your brain for something to fill the silence with.

“So, um,” you said, clearing your throat. “Michael’s, uh, how come Michael’s last name isn’t Mead?”

Fuck. That sounded so fucking stupid. Instinctively, you felt your eyes wander to Michael to see if he was laughing at you, which you hated yourself for; why should his stupid, pea-brained opinion mean anything to you anyway? As much as you wanted to distance yourself from that idiotic, made-up high school hierarchy, you always wound up finding yourself being sucked back in, it seemed.

“Well, my late husband’s last name was Langdon, and since he was kind of a dirtbag, I decided not to keep his name after he passed,” Miriam said slowly, as if taking very careful thought to word herself correctly. You took in a breath; this seemed like a whole new can of worms that you hadn’t meant to open up.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t talk about dad like that,” said Michael, his tone only half-playful, eyebrow cocking as he flashed his mother a knowing look.

“You try being cheated on multiple times, Michael. Then you’ll see that dirtbag is really a nice way of putting it.”

Oh, sure, you thought bitterly. As if Michael fucking Langdon is even remotely capable of understanding someone else’s pain.

You took this as your cue to stand up from your seat, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom before scurrying off in the opposite direction as fast as you could without drawing attention to yourself. If ten minutes with Michael as your psuedo-stepbrother got to you this badly, you could only imagine how awful your life was about to get.

You could only hope that your father would find some reason to nip things in the bud with Miriam, but right now, that appeared to be an unlikely prospect.

iii.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t end my shit right here and now,” you griped to your best friend, who sat crosslegged on your bed as you stood idly before your floor-length mirror, arms dangling limply at your sides in an unintentional stance of defeat. Your face was one that you hardly recognized anymore, forehead creased with worry and eyes shadowed by bruise-colored rings from a seemingly endless barrage of sleepless nights; a week ago, your father had gleefully announced his and Miriam’s engagement; you of course, as his loving daughter, had to behave as though you hadn’t just received the worst news of your life, which somehow you’d pulled off (for a second you wondered why you’d never taken up theater, seeing at how convincing your acting could be sometimes). It was like you’d been plucked from the familiarity of your boring, normal world and dropped into your own personally tailored hell without any warning at all, though you couldn’t think of a single thing you’d done bad enough to warrant you deserving this. “The worst person on the planet is about to be my fucking stepbrother and nobody else seems to think this is a big deal!”

Your best friend shook her head, letting out a snort as if any of this was even remotely funny in the slightest. “So your stepbrother is hot and cool and he pisses you off. They literally make porn about that.”

You resisted the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake her until some semblance of sense entered her head, instead shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans with a loud huff. “Yeah, but this isn’t fucking pornhub, (best friend’s name), this is real life! And I’d rather skin myself alive than sleep with that walking STD.”

“You have a lot more self respect than I do. It’s admirable,” she said, still startlingly calm for your liking, and you were beginning to believe that she’d never understand the mental turmoil you were currently suffering with. “Personally I’d ride him into the sunset, whether he had a herpes dick or not.”

You gagged, shaking your head with adamant disgust. Was she really that fucking horny? “You’re sick, you know that?”

“Sick for diiiiick,” she sang back, batting her eyelashes playfully at you. You turned away, scrounging up every weary shred of self restraint within you not to scream.

“Look, (b/f/n). I’m being serious right now. If you fuck him, or suck his dick, or whatever, I will literally never speak to you again.” Your tone was stern, and you faced her again to see whether your seriousness had computed in the hormonal wasteland that was her brain. There was an extended pause as she blinked at you, tilting her head to one side thoughtfully as she chewed her lipgloss-slick bottom lip.

“I mean, he wouldn’t fuck me anyways,” she finally said, still infuriatingly chipper. “I’m nobody. And he’s, like, royalty.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! I don’t care whether you think you have a chance with him!” You realized too late that you were nearly shouting, so you took in a shaky gulp of oxygen and coaxed yourself to soften your tone. The last thing you needed right now was for people to think you were losing your mind, although sometimes that was exactly what you felt like was happening. “Please, just promise me you won’t? I just need one aspect of my life not to involve him. Please?”

“Okay, fine,” she said, drawing her knees to her chest and settling her chin on top. “If it really matters that much to you, I’ll just shift my thirst to Dan Mott instead. That boy is a fucking snack and a half.”

A wave of almost-relief cascaded over your body, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself become one with this momentary victory.  

One year. Just one stupid, insignificant year until I can go away to college and forget all about him.

If you could survive that much, you told yourself, you’d be able survive anything.

You just hoped that intoxicating spell of his wasn’t strong enough to bring your best friend into his web of bullshit, alongside all the other girls who’d become entangled along the way.

If she did, you’d be stranded, left to run from Michael and his ever-expanding army all on your own.

iv.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, the dreaded date of your father’s wedding ceremony arrived; now you stood amidst a small group of distant relatives at the subdued reception party, seeking refuge from the disturbing thought that, legally, Michael Langdon was now your brother, at the open bar.

You and your best friend had decided to make something of a game out of how many drinks you could finagle from the bartender without any adults noticing, which had ultimately proved to be pointless- an hour into the reception, your father had staggered over with two overflowing dirty Shirleys, thrusting them towards the two of you with a big, sloppy grin on his face.

To say he was in a good mood would be a severe understatement- the man was jovial, and you almost felt guilty for hating the circumstances of his marriage so much. By the raised-brow looks your best friend had been shooting at you all night, you knew she was thinking the same thing: that you were being selfish for worrying so much about yourself when this was the best thing that’d happened to your father in years. And maybe it was true; maybe you’d been so wrapped up in your own teen angst bullshit that you’d willingly blinded yourself from the truth. So, with your father’s beaming face dancing in the back of your mind, you pushed any thought about Michael back to the dredges where they belonged.

Fuck Michael Langdon. You couldn’t allow him the satisfaction of knowing that you were distraught, though you’d surely already made that pretty obvious over the past few months (he’d wasted no time in taunting you about it, seeming to relish in your death glares and eye rolls- hey, future sis! he’d crooned at you as you passed his table in the cafeteria one afternoon, nearly causing you to trip and spill your perfectly mediocre iced coffee all over yourself as his friends cackled like demented hyenas).

I’m not gonna let him bother me anymore.

I’m not gonna let him bother me anymore.

I’m not-

“SIS-TERRRRRR!”

Okay, this had to be some kind of divine test of will.

A blazer-glad arm flung itself around your shoulders and you flinched, immediately jerking away from your intoxicated stepbrother (god, it felt weird to refer to him that way) whose brash motions had sent you both stumbling.

“Getting shitfaced at your mom’s wedding… classy,” you spat, crossing your arms in front of your chest and narrowing your eyes at the blond-haired boy.

He was, admittedly, good-looking (only by conventional standards, of course); his lightly gelled blond hair had long since come undone, now soft and unkempt from hours of attention-whorish dancing, but you thought the disheveled look suited him better anyway (since his whole thing was to look like a grimy, rugged fuckboy, not because you personally found it attractive, obviously). He’d undone the top few buttons of his white top (no doubt the only formal article of clothing he owned), which was now stained beyond foreseeable repair with a colorful variety of liquids, and there was a bead of sweat traveling from his slick forehead to his model-sharp jaw. Even in disarray, he looked good, and you couldn’t help but hate him for it.

“God, you are so uptight,” he said, pale eyes flickering towards the multicolored ceiling in exaggerated annoyance as he dragged out his syllables with leisure. “You need to relax, set up a dick appointment or something. Or pussy appointment, I don’t know what you’re into.”

Your mouth fell open at this remark, too stunned by his vulgarity to even get angry with your friend, who had dissolved into a fit of giggles beside you; it wasn’t that you were some pearl-clutching grandmother- you had no issue discussing sexual matters with your friends, and in fact some would even say you had a perverted sense of humor. But this? This was different: something about the way those words had fallen from Michael’s mouth made you feel dirty.

At your lack of response, Michael flashed a pearly grin that could only be categorized as evil, and he crossed his arms to mimic your stance. “Oh, sorry. I forgot that you’re probably still a virgin.”

He glanced over to your friend, whose feeble attempts to suppress her second wave of laughter had proven unsuccessful, before averting his gaze back to you. “Aw, don’t feel bad, (y/n). There’s nothing wrong with being a late bloomer.”

Then, as if to punctuate his words, he smirked.

Your mouth pressed into a thin line, you felt something like a storm swirling inside of you, winds thick and unyielding and relentless, and you were almost positive that you’d tear him apart once the feeling aligned with the rest of your body.

It was then that the song blaring through the speakers switched to something inappropriately upbeat, each thump of the dance-friendly bass feeling like punches to the gut.

The storm inside you hadn’t been giving way to anger at all; it was sadness you were feeling in your belly, hopeless and humiliated sadness, though you couldn’t quite understand why: he’d made some stupid, generic joke to try and get a rise out of you- what else was new these days? Maybe it was the fact that your best friend was, by her passiveness and obvious amusement at your expense, encouraging his taunts when she was supposed to be there for you. Or maybe the reality had finally, finally sunken in, that this kind of interaction with Michael would now consume your life for the next year.

Either way, it didn’t make a difference, and as if on cue, the familiar sting of unshed tears arrived patiently at the back of your eyes.

All at once you were were dizzy; Michael’s perfect face was doubling and distorting before your eyes, and your friend’s pitched laughter rang like incessant, robotic television static in your ears.

With very last straw of self preservation you could grasp, you said nothing at all, walking away with the dazed sluggishness of a zombie on autopilot.

You considered yourself lucky; soon enough, you wouldn’t have the luxury of walking away at all.

“She’s too sensitive,” you heard your friend say, faintly, in the background of your thoughts.

You didn’t have the energy to wonder why she wasn’t coming with you, much less the energy to chastise her for being a bad friend, which was what you knew she deserved. If she cared more about getting Michael’s attention than preserving her friendship with you, you supposed there was no use in trying to stop her anymore.

He’s like a disease, you thought as you ambled your way towards the bathroom, surrounded by people but yet still so alone. He’s like a disease, infecting everyone he touches.

It was only a matter of time, you supposed, before he got to you, too.

Who knew? Maybe he already had.

tagging some people from my old iiw tag list!: (i’m sorry if i tagged anyone twice, i’m literally half asleep right now cuz i got like 2 hours of sleep in the past 24 hrs lol) @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @trelaney  @kissydevil @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer  @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @fckinsupreme @hisgirlwonder @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @littledemondani @beriveri  @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @discocalico @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @chocolateandhorror @michaelsfrenchtoast  @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy  @imjustasadhoe @melodylangdon  @codycrazy @perfect-ginger-maniac @baphomet-wears-gucci @bigstudentpatrolbonk @jazzcowgirl @a-n-t-s @langdonsblood @ritualmichael @myluciferiscody @fentycoven @gracebtw @bongwaternation  @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @hoseokchild @witchywcmans @satanicbimbo @lvngdvns​ @langdonskillerqueen​ @aradevil​ @anemia-doll​ @muralskins​ @funtomimagines​ @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes​ @our-mrlangdon​ @lotsofhunny​ @sevenwonderwitch​ @horrorstreet​ @kpopmademedo-it​ @naughtygranger​ @codyshands​ @krazycags01​ @skullag​

[kitkatd7]

What You Do To Me

Summary: Training with Steve and Thor turns into a real workout with Loki

Warnings: Sexual tension? Maybe some mutual pining, maybe one or two minor swear words. implied smut, probably a little fluff

Pairing: Loki x Reader. Steve Rogers! platonic Thor Odinson! platonic Tony Stark! Platonic

Dialogue Prompt: #8. “Test my patience at your own peril.” Will be in bold.

Word Count: 1,267

Note: Bold italics are text messages.

This is for @trashmenofmarvel ‘s 2k trash party! congrats! and thank you for letting me join, I had so much fun writing this! 

Masterlist

------------------

Opening your eyes, you rolled over to stare at your alarm clock. 6:12 a.m. ugh. You were gonna be late. Forcing yourself to move you shuffle towards the bathroom, grabbing your phone on the way and glancing down to see a text from Steve.

America’s Ass: Where are you? Training started over 10 minutes ago.

You: I’ll be there in 5.

America’s Ass: Hurry up.

You: Make me.

Tossing your phone on the counter with an eye roll, you brush your teeth and throw some black leggings and a grey sports bra on you rush out your door towards the training room, pulling your hair up on the way.

Practically skidding into the training room, you see Steve and Thor on the training mats, circling each other warily. Smirking, you decide to cause trouble. “Hey Thor!” you call out, knowing how easily distracted he is.

Turning around to face you he waves happily, “Lady Y/N! Goodmorn-” he starts before Steve tackles him from behind, effectively pinning him to the ground as you laugh hysterically. Pushing Steve off of him, Thor huffs in annoyance, sending you a glare even though you knew he wasn’t really mad at you. None of you noticing the figure lurking in the corner and watching the exchange with a smirk on his stupidly perfect face.

still laughing softly, you make your way to the treadmills to warm up.

After 20 minutes of running you get off the treadmill, sweat-slicked and thirsty. Grabbing a bottle of water, you make your way over to where Steve and Thor are taking a break, both sitting on the mat laughing.

Taking a drink, you smile down at them both. “So, who’s ready for a round?” you ask sweetly.

“Thor, I think you should take this one. I don’t think I can handle her right now.” Steve jokes, winking at you. “Oh, c’mon Rogers, surely you can handle a little girl like me, can’t you?” you sass him, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. Glancing over at Thor you offer, “How bout it, Sparkles?”

“thank you for the offer but I must politely decline, last time you beat me I had to hear about it for a week. But my brother, on the other hand, may find you a worthy opponent.” He declared, gesturing behind you.

Turning around you see the one and only God of Mischief standing behind you... shirtless. Very shirtless. Wearing only black sweatpants, his arms crossed over his chest, a signature smirk dancing on his lips. Oh god. He was going to be the death of you, no doubt. Trying to keep yourself together you set your water bottle down before turning back to Loki.

“Are you ready, Mortal?” Loki quips, feigning boredom.

“Are you?” you shoot back, circling him warily and trying to keep your gaze from trailing down his toned form. “I’m ready for anything you give me, darling,” he purrs.

Stupid attractive God with his sharp jawline and gorgeous eyes. To say you didn’t like him would be a lie; how could you not? Tall, dark and handsome; Every girl’s dream... But there was more to Loki than his appearance. His quick remarks and sharp wit giving him a somehow charming appearance, no matter how sarcastic he was. Not to mention he was well educated, sharing your love of literature and art. And underneath that mask... there was a man who craved affection and love. And maybe, just maybe, you could give it to him if he let you.

Ignoring the fluttering of your stomach and the heat blooming on your cheeks you lunge forward, sending several blows towards him which he deflects before swiping your legs from underneath you and using his weight to pin you beneath him.

Loki regards you with an amused smile as you feebly attempt to push him off. Pinning your arms above your head. “I quite enjoy it when you try to escape me, pet,” he whispers in your ear, sending flames licking low in your belly.  

He stands up as you gasp, from lack of air or from the implication in his tone you don’t know. He offers you a hand that you begrudgingly accept, secretly enjoying the way his bicep flexes as he pulls you to your feet.

Focus, Y/N. You tell yourself, forcing your eyes back to his face from where they were on his chiseled abdomen and chest.

“See something you like?”

Fine, Loki. Two can play at that game. Scoffing, you roll your eyes before putting your plan into action. Faking a lunge, you wait until he moves forward before sliding his feet out from under him, laughing as he hits the ground with a groan of protest.  “now I see something I like,” you tease, dancing just out of reach as he swipes at your ankles.

“Brother!” Thor boom from the other side of the gym, “I told you to be wary of her, did I not?” causing you to laugh as Loki shoots daggers at Thor with his eyes.

“Shall I help you up, your highness?” you tease as he drags himself to a standing position.

“Are you ready?” he huffs.

“Are you?”

Both of you spring into action, swiping at each other, parrying blows and occasionally aiming a few kicks. Lost in the rhythm of a dangerous dance.

“Darling, have I told you how I enjoy when you dress like that?” Loki purrs sensually, trying to distract you. Ignoring his attempts at sidetracking you, you start plan B.

Waiting until he throws another punch, you grab his outstretched arm, twisting your body so you stand with your back to him, his arm over your shoulder. Perfect. Using the momentum of his last blow you pull him forward so that he flies over your shoulder, landing not-so-gracefully on the mat, with you landing on top of him and pinning his arms down on either side of his head, both of you breathing heavily. “I guess you weren’t ready,” you whisper into the space between you.

Twisting a wrist out of your grip, he grasps the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “Or maybe I like it when you take control.”

Chuckling, you lean closer, brushing your lips against his gently, leaving him wanting more. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were losing your touch,” you tease, tugging softly at his raven strands, delighting in the look of pleasure that passes over his features at the ministrations of your lips and hand.

“Darling, do you know what you're doing to me?” he sighs as if fighting an internal battle.

“The same thing you’re doing to me,” you murmur tantalizingly, running your other hand along his jawline, watching his eyes flutter close as his body tenses slightly beneath you.

Leaning closer you nuzzle his neck, inhaling his scent; eucalyptus and amber with an underlying note of citrus, all deliciously mingled together in a scent that was so uniquely Loki.

“Test my patience at your own peril,” he growls into your ear, nipping at the soft flesh of your neck as you gasp lightly and your cheek’s flush scarlet.

Kissing your way down his jawline, you jerk away when a voice behind you breaks you out of your trance.

Tony shouts at you from the doorway, “Gee guys, get a room!” rolling his eyes before walking away.

“That’s a wonderful idea, don’t you think?” Loki murmurs, pulling you in for a searing kiss. “Mhm,” you murmur against his lips, unable to say more.

To say you got your exercise in for the rest of the day would be an understatement.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglists are OPEN! 

Permanent Taglist: @lovesmesomehiddles @saiyanprincessswanie @kind-sober-fullydressed 

Crackhead Fam: @mr-skyline-r34 @buckys-other-punk @salted-caramel-tea @hermionesalvatore84 @chaoticpete @cheeky-foxx @babygurlbarnes @msgreenverse

[hisunshiine]

Money Heist | knj | Part 2

moodboard 1 | moodboard 2 | playlist | Netflix ReImagined BTS Masterlist

↳ #NetflixReImaginedBTS: Kim Namjoon x Reader starring in a bank robbery au

↳ M-18+, implied sexual content, major character deaths, bank robbery actions (violence, use of weapons, deciet)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Money Heist Masterlist | Heathfritillary (author)

The world around me began to collapse. Brick by brick, the space I had occupied for a month began to fall apart. The foundation was shaking beneath my feet. This was it. There was no place I could run or hide. Like a mouse caught in a maze, I was trapped inside the walls of the Bank of Korea.

The enemy was about to enter. Blasting through a wall in the basement, I could hear faint and muffled voices shouting on the other side as my mind attempted to comprehend the explosion that occurred right before my eyes. The ferocious ringing in my ear made me light-headed as I fell on the floor, clutching on to the L85 as I crawled, evading the bullets that kept shooting toward me before I hid behind a metal object.

Every inch of me shook, my heart pounded against my chest, reaching its breaking point while I desperately tried to collect my accelerated breath. There was no way in hell they were going to take me. I would never surrender.

The sound of Gwacheon’s voice shouting my name pulled me out of the mind-numbing situation I had caught myself in. Senses were slowly recovering as I caught his gesture. He kept waving, leading me to safety beside him but I knew I could not make it over to him. One of those bullets was inevitably going to meet my flesh.

“I can’t,” I shouted before taking a quick glance at my surroundings, “The hostages fled,” I explained. Gwacheon had asked for more hostages, preferably the strongest men, to assist him to create a way for us to escape the bank unscathed. But I had stupidly gone by myself. Despite the big gun in my hands, they overpowered me and as soon as I thought they would shoot me, the explosion happened and they ran through the wall the police had created.

“Damn it, London!” I watched him as he began to fire back, ignoring one of the Professor’s sacred rules to successfully pull off the heist, ‘no casualties’. He kept firing his weapon, disabling the authorities from entering and momentarily ceasing fire. I rushed over to him, “Are you hurt?” he asked out of breath as he hastily began to add more ammo to his gun.

I nodded as I attempted to shake off the close encounter. Had I been closer to the wall, I was certain that those heavy bricks would have buried me. The grace of God was the reason why I was still breathing.

➰

Gwacheon and I separated as we escaped the basement. I heard another explosion and figured that he had managed to block off anyone trying to enter the bank from below us. Before we parted ways, he told me to inform everyone and to activate phase four of the plan.

I entered the main part of the bank. The tall ceiling, huge chandelier, and mosaic art tiles greeted me as I walked past the hostages who were bound together by the wrists, sitting on the floor with a terrified look on their faces. I ignored every single one of them as GC caught my signal and approached me.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked quietly, trying not to attract too much attention from the hostages.

“An explosion. The way we planned to escape, we can’t anymore.”

“We heard gunshots.”

“It was the police. Gwacheon blocked them out,” GC visibly sank his shoulders as he let out a sigh of relief.

“And the hostages you took?”

“Escaped.”

“Goddamn it, London.”

“That’s not our biggest concern right now. The police are getting impatient.”

“As are we. We’ve been here for days.”

I sensed his growing frustration and placed my hand on his shoulder as a gesture of reassurance, “Gwacheon wants phase four,” GC's eyes enlarged as he straightened his posture. I stared out at the hostages and met a pregnant woman’s teary eyes, “We have to leave them,” I whispered, “They want them safe.”

GC matched the direction of my gaze, “We can’t hand all of them over. Without them,” he paused as he ripped his eyes from the hostages, “You know this. They will shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Stay here.” I requested and heard GC behind me as he ordered the hostages to listen to him. He was going to do his part and initiate phase four. We needed the most valuable hostages to ensure our survival and everyone else would be handed to the police camping outside the bank.

➰

I entered the CEO’s office that had turned into our discussion room. Everything happened here. With the President of the bank, himself, tied to his own chair present. Including the only real leverage we had and the reason why the police had not stormed the bank, the President of South Korea.

During our planning phase, Busan discovered that twice a month President Moon would visit the bank. Often he would speak with the President of the bank and we would secretly listen in on their conversation.

It was Ilsan’s idea and the Professor liked it. We would rob the bank on the day the President of South Korea would be there.

I laughed when Ilsan said it was poetic, in fact he said, there was something beautiful about robbing the nation of its money while the savior of the country had to forcibly watch as we fucked him in the ass. Ilsan was a sadistic fucker and it made me fall harder for him. He did not care but the Professor made sure he, along with the rest of us, understood that no harm was allowed to be done to the President.

President Moon’s eyes grew wider as I entered the office and explained everything that happened to Ilsan. As the person in charge, I informed him about Gwacheon’s need to activate phase four. He glared at me momentarily before he turned his attention back to the wall behind the two Presidents.

Neatly hung every cellphone of each hostage, including their wallets, “54 hostages in total,” Ilsan was deep in thought and would often talk out loud as he contemplated something, “We only need ten,” he then returned to the room and smiled at me, “Actually we could release every hostage except,” he paused as he teasingly pointed at the Presidents, “These two.”

“Where is my daughter? What are you doing?” The President of the bank hulked in desperate anger.

“You should contact the Professor.” I dismissed the man and asked Ilsan.

“No. I will call the negotiator, tell that bitch what’s happening and buy us some time by releasing some hostages.”

“Some, not all.”

“As a sign of good faith, we will release those in dire need of medical attention,” he smiled at me as he brushed away the hair strands from my face, “You have dust all over you.”

“Yeah, cutting it close.”

“Your gun?” He raised an eyebrow as he bit his inner cheek.

“They took it when they ambushed me.”

“I see,” he grabbed my face and slowly examined the bruises the hostages inflicted on my jaw, “You shouldn’t have gone alone. You don’t get to go alone.”

“I’m fine.”

“They could have shot you too. Busan is still critical.”

“I’m aware, Namj--” I paused mid-sentence as I remembered we were in the middle of a heist. The Professor explicitly did not want any of us growing close and he certainly did not want anyone falling in love.

No real names, city names only. Those were the rules.

However, Ilsan and I engaged in something that none of us could have foreseen. Love. Despite how hard we tried - in those initial months in Jindo - to resist and fight our urges, they grew stronger. Regardless of how intriguing he was, how smart, and how utterly attracted I was to him, I tried to cast aside all emotions until I gave in until he did as well.

One weak moment and I found myself in his room. And before I knew it, months of boring planning the heist had turned into months of planning for a heist while secreting and daily breaking a sacred rule.

We got closer, closer than intended and he and I were on a first-name basis and after the beach house found out the Professor did not agree. Busan did not either and could not see why I would choose Ilsan over him. Soon, however, everyone eased to the idea and Ilsan made sure our relationship would not interfere with our collective wish to see the heist through. And I agreed. He was not going to get in the way of me receiving my cut.

Ilsan glared at me briefly, irritation spewing through his eyes as he ignored my unintentional slip-up, “How far is Gwacheon? And Gwangju?”

“We need a new route.”

“Go find out how much we have. We might be able to leave sooner.”

➰

If the Professor was the planner then Ilsan was the enforcer. He called every shot and assessed each problem as they emerged and chose the strategy he saw fit.

Back in Jindo, the Professor made sure everyone else knew that Ilsan was the ringleader. Gwacheon did not appreciate having someone with less experience as the leader of the heist and unfortunately, Daegu and Gwangju followed pursuit with the same thought and it caused some tension between them.

Essentially it was boys being toxic as hell. Who had the biggest dick?

However, Ilsan proved himself with the knowledge he possessed and it caused Gwacheon to ease upon him. Daegu grew fascinated and requested Busan find information on him. Curiosity got the better of me and I read the information about him.

Ilsan was suspected to steal from the Queen of England, breaking into Buckingham Palace by himself and gathering her jewelry, some going as far back as seven generations. Ilsan was not just a thieve but a deadly one. Daegu could admire that including Gwangju and with this information, they figured it was better to keep him happy.

The guys were excited to have him part of the team whereas I grew more inward. At that point, I was aware I had some interest in him. However, I could not admit it to myself.

In all honesty, Ilsan terrified me slightly. He was not someone I could read well and that alone scared me. He could express himself with little or no words but at the same time, he would let his guard down and simply be a guy around the others. I did not know where to place him.

Something changed, however, within those first few weeks after he entered the beach house. He hardly spoke to me. We avoided each other, almost religiously. A part of me was relieved but if I was, to be honest with myself and the emotions I was developing, I only avoided him because I was afraid to be alone with him.

I was not too sure whether or not he could sense it but I found myself running into him at the most unintentional moments. Although it was innocent at first, those run-ins would become more frequent. Sometimes, despite the hesitation and resistance at first, we would talk and those conversations became longer. Other times we would steal quick glances and before I knew it, it naturally turned into something I swore I would not do with any of these men.

A mere accidental touch would turn into lingering gazes that later became a need to be closer to each other.

I was not certain when it happened but I had developed strong feelings for Ilsan. And after the first physical connection, I had not been able to take my hands off him. It was primal, needy and above anything else, it was a vigorous emotion. It felt as if he was someone I had longed for without even knowing.

So, it became easy to take directions from him. Despite everything I knew and any opinions I had, I became disloyal to them and strictly loyal to Ilsan.

It felt real. He felt right.

The cafeteria area of the bank was where we had placed Busan. I entered with a heavy heart, slowly approaching the table we had set up for him. Ilsan had spoken to the negotiator and demanded a doctor and a nurse to enter the bank. They complied but only if we released two hostages and we did.

The red-haired nurse stood up from her seat as she nervously eyed me, “There’s nothing to report, Miss.”

“Did I ask?” I dismissively brushed off her statement as I kept my glance at Busan. I towered over him and gently placed my hand close to the gunshot wound the sniper from across the street had fired yesterday. A low sigh evaded his lips and he gingerly whispered my city name into a weak smile, “How are you?”

“I’ve been better.”

I caressed his golden locks and grew aware of the two strangers observing me. Leaning closer to his ear, I murmured, “Phase four,” he stared at me and I nodded as soon as I could tell he understood what was happening.

Hastily, he began to sit up but I held him down, “No please, I can brush it off.”

“Your shoulder is out, you’ve lost too much blood,” I reminded him, “Focus on getting your strength back.”

“I’m fine, London.” He sat up and the monitor the negotiator had provided began to beep louder, his heart rate accelerated and I could not help but feel like shit for involving him, “I have to do my part.”

“I’ve got this, Busan.” He stared at me momentarily, confusion and defeat coated his gaze until he let out a sigh. He knew I would not back down, “I’ll talk to you soon.” With a gentle kiss on his cheek, I shot the red-haired nurse a glare and pushed her to the side, far from Busan’s wandering ear, “Take care of him or else,” I threatened before I left them.

➰

I spotted Gwangju and gestured for him to climb down from the rail. The Professor wanted to replicate his previous heist in Spain. The plan was never to rob the Bank of Korea but to print out more money. And we did. With Gwangju in charge, eight days was all we needed to print out 901 million in South Korean WON.

It was not a quick robbery but a methodical and thoroughly thought out plan. The Professor had done it before and all of Spain and Europe was looking for him.

He was bold.

If we made it through the heist with the money and unscathed, it meant that the Professor was a mastermind in the bank robbery. One, no police officer could catch. However, as excited as I was to be a part of his crew, the Professor made it crystal clear - before any of us had agreed - that blood would be spilled. He had seen it back in Spain. He lost a handful of good people during and after the heist.

The pain of it still haunted him.

All of us understood the consequences and continued on with his plan. But after Busan, I was grateful that only one of us had gotten hurt. He was not dead and that was all that mattered. Moreover, when the bullet penetrated Busan’s shoulder, I realized that this was real life. There was no going back. I was in this heist.

Ilsan froze when the negotiator mentioned the Professor’s real name including some of the other guys’. Mine as well as Daegu’s, GC’s, Ilsan’s identities had yet to be found but we were sure it was only a matter of time.

The negotiator was ruthless, adamant about knowing who the thieves were. I felt certain she would try her hardest and find all of us but more importantly, she would have us executed for embarrassing the nation and capturing the President of Korea. Thanks to Busan’s profile on her, I knew she would never back down.

“You ready?” Gwangju asked with a grin on his face as he jumped down the ground, “These hostages are the most hard-working bunch I have ever seen,” like a child eager to show his parents his accomplishments, Gwangju took my hand and guided me through the process. “Every ten minutes, we are printing 500.000 KRW.”

“Wow,” I murmured.

“Wow? Just wow?” He shook me slightly with a grin, “They are working hard, overworking, overtime,” he raised his voice to get my mood elevated before reaching for his megaphone, “We are having fun, right guys?” He yelled out and the hostages obeyed him. He laughed as he turned to me. His expression changed upon noticing my unfazed reaction, “Alright, what the hell is wrong?”

“I need the guns.”

He frowned with a small head tilt, “Daegu has them.”

“He’s not at the vault.”

“Then I don’t kno--” he paused briefly as he scanned my red jumpsuit, “Why is there dust all over you?”

“Phase four is beginning.”

“No, no. We can’t. I am nowhere near the amount.”

“The police are right under our feet and Seok--” I paused as I bit my tongue, correcting myself, “Gwacheon bought us some time but we need to leave soon. How much?”

Gwangju glanced around as he contemplated the amount he had managed to print, “A little over half.”

“It’s been four days!”

“Yeah and like I told the Professor for that amount, I need eight days. These machines aren’t the latest model, I’ll ruin them.”

“Then ruin them!”

“That’s not how it works, kid.” One of the machines began to malfunction, so loud as a jam occurred and smoke appeared from it, “Fuck!” Gwangju rushed over to the machine being operated by an elderly male hostage. He seemed fragile and I wondered why Gwangju personally had requested him. Poor man. I was sure he did not expect to become a hostage when he left his home in the morning. But Gwangju said he had experience according to Busan, and this hostage had worked at the bank for over 35 years.

“Sir,” the elderly man started, “One of the bills is stuck.”

“Shit,” he exclaimed as he climbed back up to the rail to get a closer look.

“Gwangju,” I yelled after him and he glanced down at me, “Walkie up. We need to go soon. Phase four.” He nodded as he waved at his walkie talkie.

➰

I had to search for Daegu. He was the only one left to be informed about Gwacheon’s need to activate phase four. With my walkie talkie in hand and a fast pace, I searched every room within the bank until I spotted Daegu exiting the bathroom.

He eyed me momentarily with a frown and questioned what happened to my jumpsuit. I had not seen myself but I was certain I looked like a mess. None of the bullets hit me but the explosion created a sky of dust made of brick that coated every inch of my red suit.

I explained to Daegu what happened and although his eyes were filled with concern, he hastily guided me to one of the vaults he had hidden our weaponry. “Thanks,” I murmured as he handed me another L85, “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“We’ll flush them out.”

“You and me?”

“Unless you’d prefer that GC or Ilsan take the post?”

“No, no.”

Daegu handed me a bulletproof vest and I began to put it on, “You’re hesitating.”

“I’m not.”

“London, it’s alright that you don’t want to hurt anyone but,” he paused as he assisted me with the vest while staring intensely into my eyes, “If it’s a matter of your life versus someone else’s, I hope you choose yourself above anyone else. Any hesitation on your part will lead to a bullet in your head,” he placed his index finger in between my eyebrows, “You have a duty to this team. Stay alive and do your part.”

➰

Phase four. One of the many plans the Professor had created if the heist did not go as intended. At no point were the authorities supposed to come inside the bank with their guns blazing. It was not the correct protocol. Busan suspected this and made it clear to us. The Professor had to figure out a way to secure our safety, in the events that Busan’s theory about the negotiator was right, and prevent an active shoot out. The Professor’s main focus was to make sure that there were no casualties. The murder was something he never wished to be pinned on us.

“Are you ready?” Daegu eyed me as he pressed the elevator that would take us down to the basement.

“Let’s get this over with.”

The plan was simple. Ilsan would hide the Presidents and then join us. Gwangju would collect the money he had printed and meet Gwacheon at the new escape route. Busan was out of commission, so I had to take his spot. GC would dress all of the hostages into the same red jumpsuits we wore, including arm them with fake guns, to throw off the authorities and slow them down, even for a moment. The Professor explained that that single moment of hesitation on their part meant our lives. The hesitation would make all of the difference.

Although I feared for my life, I could not allow it to cripple me. As much as I wanted to go back to my initial post of helping Gwacheon, Daegu ordered Seoul to take my spot when we spotted him on our way out of the vault. This meant that Seoul’s initial position of studying the police’s every move was unchecked. We had no idea when and where the authorities would strike from. We were at a disadvantage.

However, we had an ace up our sleeves.

Phase two was never activated which meant the police had no clue that the heist mastermind known as the Professor was the brains behind this operation. Up until now, the negotiator had only spoken to Ilsan. She knew he was the one in charge but luckily for us, and thanks to the Professor’s methodical planning, we had another pair of eyes informing us where they would strike.

Seoul had infiltrated their system as soon as we took over the bank. This enabled the Professor to be a step ahead of the police. He knew everything they were saying, contemplated, everything they could see he would know and inform Ilsan. Even our walkie talkies were undetected by them. Seoul kept changing the frequency. It made the police unaware of our communication to the outside. Moreover, due to Seoul’s technology skills, they were unable to hack into the security system within the bank because he had sneakily created software and encryption that made it impossible to hack months prior.

Seoul was no amateur. He might have been the youngest and the most naive of the group but he was by far the smartest.

The elevator doors opened and Daegu and I stepped out with our guns positioned, ready to fire at anyone who roamed the basement. The flickering lights, million pieces of shattered bricks on the floor, and the sound of - what I assumed was a pipe that broke - dripping water made me clutch the L85 tighter. We did not speak. Through hand signals, Daegu gestured we took a right turn but to keep his back safe. I walked behind him as he signaled the coast was clear.

We walked deeper into the basement until we found ourselves close to where the explosion happened. It was walled off, exactly how Gwacheon intended but a small gasp escaped me upon realizing that some of the officers that came through the hole were now buried in the aftermath of the second explosion.

“Let’s go.” Daegu gently tapped my shoulder, “Today, we need to leave today.”

No casualties. That was the rule. One of the most sacred rules. Without rules humans were barbaric, the Professor often said. And he was right. No one was supposed to get hurt. I understood it and agreed. It did not feel morally correct to take someone’s life. However, I was the reason why Busan was still breathing. They did not care who they shot at through the window, his life, and the kind of man he was. They did not bat an eye for his well being.

The Professor could call me barbaric, he could scold me and kick me off the team but right this instance, as I stared down at the man who fired the shot against the sweetest man I had ever the pleasure to meet, I was glad that Gwacheon buried them. Trigger happy pricks.

↣ all rights reserved © heathfritillary 2021. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed. 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Disaster Lads: A Collab, Part One

This is part one of a five-part collab piece I did with @whumpiary! In which our disaster lads meet and the inevitable ensues. 

CW: Referenced drugging, forced drinking, referenced past noncon, some dubcon fuckiness and trauma response headspace. Things get darker as we go, and more explicit, too. But also Kauri flirts and it’s adorable. Just a fair warning. I’ll do warnings for each individual chapter as we go.

Tagging Kauri’s crew:  @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @spiffythespook, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly

Kauri isn’t entirely sure how it happened, but somehow his back is against a wall, a drink is in his hand, and there’s a man leaning over him with that grin on his face that Kauri usually likes… but today, he doesn’t.

The bar is kind of dark, and there’s a band playing something that mostly sounds like sad yelling over geese honking to Kauri, but everyone had cheered when the band came onstage so maybe he just doesn’t get the music. He’s not even dressed for the bar, honestly - he’s in his big black zip-up sweatshirt, Dustin’s so it hangs off his shoulders and his hands are mostly covered by the sleeves. A thin thrift-store t-shirt and ripped-up black skinny jeans, the faded old checkered slip-on sneakers he’s had forever… he looks halfway homeless.

The guy has him cornered anyway, and Kauri is feeling all the other drinks he’s let guys buy him tonight, kind of spinning and silly with the alcohol in his veins. It makes it easier not to feel uncomfortable, but part of him is. 

He wants to say no, but the word sticks in his throat.

“Come on,” The guy says, leaning over him - it feels like looming - and pushing even closer into his space. “I bought you the drink, the least you could do is a little something for me in return.”

I don’t want to, Kauri thinks in something like a panicked wail.

The man’s knuckles brush the side of his throat and it’s probably a flirtation but Kauri thinks of Owen’s hands around his neck - it feels like a threat.

“Wh-what… what did you have in mind?” Kauri’s voice is airy, a little breathless. His heart is pounding, his face is flushed, and maybe he looks into this… but he’s not. But it kind of seems like the guy maybe knows and doesn’t care.

“A lot of shit, honestly, you’ve been on my radar a while, but first… let’s start with you finishing that drink.” He reaches out and takes the glass out of Kauri’s hand, raising it to his lips. The first sip of syrupy-sweet cocktail seems more like liquid ash on Kauri’s tongue. “You’re a pretty cute drunk.”

“Am… am I?” He asks when the man lets him stop drinking. “I, I don’t want-”

“Have another drink,” The man interrupts, and pushes the rim of the glass against his lips again.

Cass had been watching the guy with the curly hair and the cute smile on and off all night. Partly because he's pretty. Partly because he looks like he’s dressed for a soup kitchen rather than a bar. But mostly because he looks familiar. Annoyingly familiar, in a way that’s maybe more significant than ‘hey didn’t we fuck in a bathroom stall one time?’. 

The girl Cass has been chatting to is very, very, very boring. Stupidly boring. So it’s ridiculously easy to focus his attention just over her shoulder at Curly Hair and the guy who’s got him pressed against the wall in the corner, and the pink drink that’s being held up between them, fed to the shorter of the two like it's the holy fucking grail.

Desires are sticky. Syrupy. And in a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, revulsion is bitter and obvious. Like whiskey in apple juice. Like smoke under perfume.

Cass wishes he'd had more to drink. A couple more vodka tonics and he'd probably refuse to give a shit. But he's annoyingly sober, and he can't help but notice Curly Hair sort of glance around, looking for an exit that doesn't exist.

Cass watches as he smiles, tilts his head. Cass' stomach lurches. He's seen that head tilt. Fuck, Cass has given that head tilt. I want you to want me but I don't want this.

“Hey Kirsty," he says, serving a grin to the blonde next to him. She frowns. 

“It’s Kristie.”

“Right. Kristie,” Cass says. Easy smile, a finger tracing circles on the back of her hand. “You wanna go dance? I’ll catch up in a sec”

The girl pouts, grabbing his hand, “Aren’t you gonna come? I kinda thou-”

“Kʀɪsᴛɪᴇ, ɢᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ.”

The girl's frown melts into a grin faster than she can notice what’s happening and nods her head enthusiastically, like dancing had been her idea in the first place. And then she’s gone, melted into the pulsing mass of bodies. 

Cass needs to get out of here. In a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, the feeling of I don’t want this is so loud and grating it makes Cass’ heart catch in his throat. And then there’s the other guy. Cass can feel the fucking lust pouring off of the guy. Not just the desire for an easy lay but the absolute exhilaration of a predator who’s got dinner trapped. Or is about to, Cass thinks, eyes following the asshole’s gaze to where they're fixated on a sickening cocktail he’s feeding the smaller guy.

Cass pushes himself away from the bar. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here before he does something stupid because he promised Lou he wouldn't pick anymore fights and because this is none of his business and just because the guy seems familiar doesn't mean Cass knows him but he still finds himself snaking to the corner, anyway, grabbing the tall guy by the elbow- 

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” he says, feigning rapt enthusiasm.

The taller guy looks Cass up and down. His hair is annoyingly perfect. Like if you tapped it, maybe it'd make a sound like knocking on hard plastic.

“I don’t think so,” the guy says, shark teeth twisted into a grin. Cass watches as his grip tightens minutely on the glass he’s holding. Yeah, fuckhead. Wouldn’t want to lose that, now would we?  “If you don’t mind, we’re kinda busy.”

And he's turning back to Curly Hair, who is melting into the wall, a skittish mess of maybe he’ll talk to the new guy - if it’s what you want then I want it - I don't want this - just say no kauri you can just say no - I want this I want you - just say no stop it stop - no just drink it don’t make him mad - I don't want this and Cass really fucking wishes he'd had another few drinks because then he could just walk away, but instead he hits the cocktail careening out of Tall Guy's hand, a spectacular pink mess over the guy's crisp white shit.

Kauri flinches back, hands up over his mouth, staring wide-eyed at the mess.

"Shit, dude. Sorry. I'm such a klutz," Cass grins, holding up innocent hands with a shrug. "That roofie wasn't expensive or anything, was it?"

And sure, maybe this was none of his business, but it's so satisfying when the guy shoves him into the wall. Maybe even more satisfying than the sound of the crunch of the guy's nose breaking as Cass headbutts him in the face.

The guy stumbles back, hands over his nose as blood starts to pour, screaming half-formed curse words that are muffled by his hand and the nasal sound of his voice. From behind the bar, a bartender yells, “God damn it, no fighting! What the fuck, Kauri?!”

Kauri curls back against the wall, his wide, frightened eyes going from the bloody pink-stained man to the new guy who had hit him with his whole entire head and back again. “I’m sorry!” He shouts back to the bartender. “I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

“Yeah, well, do something about it!”

Kauri gives the bartender a look of incredulous terror. He’s 5’7” and all lithe, willowy flexibility and he has the brute fighting strength of a very small kitten.

“Like what, exactly?!”

The guy drops his hand - the bottom half of his face is a mess of blood now - and with a snarl, pulls his fist back to punch Cass again. 

“Stop them fighting over your dumb hot ass or I’m calling the cops, Kauri!”

The name sticks in Cass' head as he lets the guy land another punch, hard on his cheek.

"Kᴀᴜʀɪ, ɢʀᴀʙ ʜɪs ᴀʀᴍ," he says, on impulse, because the guy is kinda huge and Cass isn’t particularly strong, and he’s been in plenty of fights but he usually only stops them by not really being conscious anymore. 

Kauri’s hands snap out thoughtlessly, grabbing the guy’s other arm and helping Cass shove him face-first against the wall, only to freeze up, eyes widening even more in terror as he has no idea why he just did that. 

"You better calm the fuck down, man," Cass says, twisting the guy’s wrist so it twinges just a little behind him. He feels amped up and shaky with adrenaline. He hopes he looks as feral as he feels. The big guy blinks, slow and stupid as he tries to catch up with what just happened. "'Cause either I'm gonna kill you or the bar staff are gonna call the cops on your ass. And we both know what they're gonna find in that glass.”

The guy's eyes widen in shock, then narrow. “You can’t prove-”

“You roofied me?” Kauri asks, as though the multiple comments Cass had made had only just sunk into his mind. He felt himself reel with horror, trying to pull away, but his hands just… don’t want to let go of the man’s arm. Panic was a drumbeat in his mind. He knows what roofies are, Nat told him about those, and that they taste kind of salty but there was a salt rim on the drink the guy bought him-

“You were going to roofie me?”

“That jackass broke my nose!” The guy yells, although it comes out more like dat jackash boke by dose. Cass kind of wants to interject that he probably didn't break the guys nose, but it doesn't really seem like the time. “I’ve been talking to you all night and you just believe some asshole that walks up and punches a stranger?”

“I… I…” Kauri cringes back from the fury in the man’s voice. He’s going to be hurt, and he’s terrified, and the only thing on earth he wants right now is to get out of here and away before the man’s hands are around his neck just like Owen’s, it’ll be like that, he’ll hurt and hurt and then pass out and if he can just maybe make nice the guy will stop being angry-

“I, I’m sorry, you-... you did buy me the drink, that was… that was nice… but, but if he saw you-"

"He didn't see shit." 

The guy did not seem to realize that that wasn't exactly denying he'd done it. 

Cass feels cold fury run through him. He can feel the lust-turned-sour, good-night-wasted annoyance that the guy in front of him is vibrating with. And the panic pouring off of Kauri, so palpable and crystalline it may as well be his own. The want to run away, to get out of here, to back down, to apologise, make nice. They mingle together in his head.

Who the fuck tries makes nice with the asshole who was gonna drug them? He tries to ignore the ‘you sure used to’ that creeps into his head.

Cass doesn't care. He wants to run away and he wants to get out of here but more than that he wants to make someone bleed. This guy walked into the bar tonight, sought out the most vulnerable guy he could find and thought prey. He deserves to know what that feels like. He flips the guy around, pressing a hard hand to his chest to keep him flush to the wall.

“I think I’m gonna call you Scooter,” Cass says “You look like a Scooter”

“The name’s Matt, jackass,” the guy growls. It takes way too much effort to pronounce the M. Cass grins. Matt, huh?

"Alright, Mᴀᴛᴛ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ G ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ. Gɪᴠᴇ ᴜs ᴀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ,” he says. The guy blinks, reaches mindlessly into the pocket of the shitty jeans he’s wearing and pulls out a nondescript little bottle. Matt is staring at the drugs like he can’t imagine how they possibly got into his hand. Cass grins. It’s nice to stare at a predator and make them feel small. "I think he should have to drink it. What do you think, Kauri?"

"Jesus Christ," Matt says, nasally and strangled. "Why did... What the fuck, I should knock your teeth out!"

Kauri grabs the pill bottle out of his hand and tries, despite his hands shaking so badly the fucking bottle rattles, to look like he's reading, carefully keeping his eyes unfocused so they won't try to settle on or understand the letters. Kauri steps closer to them both, putting his hands up slowly, like a man being held hostage. 

"Look, you guys, we can just… nobody has to fight," He says, pitching his voice lower, cocking his head just a little to the side. "The bouncers are gonna kick us all out in a second and, and I don't need-... We don't need that, right? Matt? We don't need to, to have anybody closer than this. Just us, right?"

His heart hammers, heartbeat so strong it's nearly knocking the breath out of him. His voice is airy, and soft, and just a little flirty under the fear.  

You can fix this. No one calls the cops, no one tells, no one looks too close.

"You didn't n-need that, I'd have… have gone with you anyway, Matt…"

Kauri, you can't say yes if you don't know how to say no. He ignores Nat's strident voice in his head and slides just a little closer, the rise and fall of his chest and the whites around his eyes the only giveaway of his fear. He can see bouncers and he has to make this better before too many people are looking at them. 

Matt snorts a kind of bitter, angry laughter, then winces as that burns his injured nose. "You would. The ones like you always do, right?" 

Kauri freezes, all the color draining out of his face. The bottle of pills drops to the floor and rolls away, kicked by someone walking by and getting lost somewhere in the crowd. "What?" 

"Tell your fucking White Knight to fuck off," Matt says reaching out to grab Kauri's left wrist. "Kauri Grant."

Cass doesn't have time to figure out why the fuck that name sounds so familiar. All he needs to know what's happening is in that look on Kauri's face. He's seen that look. God, he's given that look. Whoever Kauri Grant is, he needs to be the hell away from here. Now.

"Okay, seriously buddy, we don't want anymore trouble," he tries, taking a quick glance at the bouncers closing in behind them "How about you let this go and we do too?"

"I'm not letting go of shit," says Matt, with a smile full of blood. He has one hand locked over Kauri's wrist, pushing up against the leather bracelet there. "Do you have any idea how much this little whore is worth?"

Cass swings the punch before he even has the chance to think what that could mean. Which is maybe not a great move, actually, with bouncers headed their way and a bar full of patrons who are starting to look over. It's especially not a great move because Matt swivels, jerking out of the way, sending Cass' fist straight into the side of Kauri's skull. 

Kauri's world crashes at the impact, stumbling back and falling hard onto his side on the floor, head bouncing against the sticky woodgrain, blinking against the black spots dancing in front of his eyes. 

It doesn't stop the panic. 

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

"Y-you can't," he tries, his voice sounding weird and off to his own ears, pushing himself up. "Can't, can't turn me in-"

"I wasn't going to, before that little shit showed up," Matt says with a nasty note of triumph in his voice, one Kauri knows too well. "The guy who just hit you."

Kauri manages to stand up, catching the bouncers too close, too close, and he grabs onto Cass's arm. "He was… was trying to hit you," Kauri says, voice shaking. "And you-... tried to drug me."

"Like no one's ever drugged you before," Matt sneers, and Kauri swallows, hard, and doesn't protest. Matt waves at the bouncers. "Hey! This is Kauri Grant!"

The frozen fear in Kauri thaws and he jerks at Cass's arm to yank him not towards the door but deeper into the bar, pushing through the crowd towards the other side of the stage. 

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

Cass knows that name, why does he know that name?

It doesn't matter. What matters is they get the hell away from here right now. He turns in Kauri's grip to look over his shoulder, locks eyes with the asshole who seems intent on ruining this poor bastard's life. 

"Mᴀᴛᴛ," he yells as he's hauled away into the crowd, "Sʜᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ."

It's not exactly elegant but Matt slams his jaw closed so hard Cass can see him wince against the jolt of pain through his bashed in face. Cass cackles as they disappear into the mass of bodies on the dancefloor.

He feels high. There's twin feelings gripping his chest, the thrill of a fight and the blinding panic of running away. The rush of beating someone at their own game twisted with the knowledge that they need to get the hell out of here before they're caught.  He has no idea what's happening but it's fast and it's thrilling. It's making him dizzy, making his blood pump electric. He barks another laugh as he dodges some random guy's elbow, grips Kauri's hand even harder and lets himself be pulled.

"God, who the fuck is Kauri Grant?"

Kauri pulls him to a small door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY just to the side of the stage, shoving it open and stumbling out into a dark alley, the sudden chill on his skin the only reason Kauri realizes he's sweating.

Out here the noise is gone, there's the sound of sirens far away, and Kauri's eyes dart around, thinking, before he pulls Cass to the right, further down the alley, stepping over refuse and empty beer bottles. 

"I… I am," Kauri says, voice thin. The side door they just left opens and he pulls Cass quickly against the wall with him to hide behind a dumpster. "I'm Kauri Grant." He swallows hard, panic still beating at the back of his mind, and slowly slides down the wall to sitting, putting his head in his hands. 

"You hit really hard for how skinny you are, d'you know that?"

Maybe it’s the sudden cold, or maybe it’s the way Kauri’s holding his head, but waves of exhaustion and regret and fear hit Cass all at once. He ducks down as voices and noise filter wide and loud, and then go squashed and muffled again with the swinging of the door. 

“Fuck man, I’m so sorry,” he mutters, ducking his head to assess the damage. “I didn’t even think”

He reaches out a hand, pulls it back before contact. He really doesn’t know how to do this. The whole… God, what did Fuckhead McGee call it? The whole White Knight schtick. Is he meant to go find ice? Buy the guy a drink for his troubles? Usually when he finds himself kneeling on the wet concrete of an alley in front of a stranger it’s for a very different reason.

Cass sits back on his heels and laughs, loud and unabashed. He’d listened to that girl at the bar talk about her boyfriend for forty minutes when he should’ve been finding some pretty guy to sneak away with. And then he found a pretty guy and punched him in the face. Which… wasn’t always a dealbreaker, but even in the now relative quiet of the alley his heart is still slamming like there’s something to run away from and his brain feels cracked open and Jesus Christ, this night is already just so fucking dumb. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says between giggles. He tries to calm it down to a grin. “I swear I’m not laughing at you, Kauri Grant. Did I, um…Is your head okay?”

"Yeah, my head's fine. I've been hit before," Kauri says, not quite muttering, rubbing his hand into his black curls. "Not usually in the head, but, you know, it's kinda empty anyway." He flashes a bright, deflecting smile, looking up at Cass. 

Kauri's head cocks slightly to the side, something in his smile changing, softening a little. Not quite flirtation, something more in self-defense. "Can you just say Kauri, please? I don't, um, I don't like his name. Very much. It's just, that's what they call me…" His voice trails off. "Thanks for, um. For catching that guy… I didn't know he put something in it... I didn’t know he knew.”

Cass frowns a little, trying to understand. Didn’t know who knew what?

"Okay you have to back up, you're giving me more questions than… than answers right now..." 

But then the pieces of Kauri he's seen through the night start falling together. The skittish eyes that didn't match with the flirting smile. Thanking the guy who would have happily held him limp in a basement. The wanting and wanting and wanting paired with the desperate need to run away. 

The ones like you, that guy had said, looking at Kauri like he was something to be eaten. The ones like what? The ones who met conflict with apologies and desperate bids for distraction. His eyes flick to the bracelet on Kauri's wrist, thick and leather and out of place amongst the rest of his "robbed a Good Will" ensemble and too wide, really to be stylish. Just wide enough to hide a tattoo, maybe. Or a brand.

I don’t like his name very much. Cass feels himself paling.

"Oh my god, you're somebody's," he whispers. He closes his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face. Swallows the dry lump in his throat. "You're meant to belong to somebody."

Kauri jerks his arms back against himself, pulling the sleeve of his sweatshirt over the bracelet about ten minutes too late. 

He looks up at Cass, blue eyes wide and pleading, and reaches out his hand to brush his fingers against Cass's hand, pitching his voice lower. 

"You, you don't have to tell anyone. That I'm, um. You don't have to. I can… I can-" He has no idea how to say this. He focuses his thoughts on what he knows, falling back on training. I want this. I want you. I am an active participant in fulfilling my owner's desires. 

"I can, um. Whatever you, you want, if you won't say you saw me?" His voice shakes - he can't seem to stop it. He has to hope it sounds like the good kind of nervous and not the terror he really feels. 

Cass feels his stomach drop, something catching in his throat as fingers brush the back of his hand again. The tug and pull of I want this. The tilt of Kauri’s head is so tempting it looks rehearsed. I want you.

“That’s…” Kauri’s eyes are gorgeous — huge and blue and desperate — and Cass has to close his own just to think straight. “That’s not what…  I, um.”

I want this. I want you. Resolute and relentless against his thoughts. I want this. I want you. Over and over and over again. Frenzied and pleading and wanting and fucking terrified.  I want this. I want you. 

Cass curls his fingers around Kauri’s, running his thumb along the other boy’s palm. I want this. I want you. Something in him feels shaken up and loose at the hinges from feeling it. It feels wrong. Too familiar, too close to home, too close to… something. Please let me want this. Please want me too.

Cass closes his eyes again, shakes his head. Maybe it’s just the after effects of being knocked crooked. Cass did punch the guy in the face. And it’s been kind of a fucked up fifteen minutes. Maybe they both just need the distraction. The relief of something simple and easy. And if they're both actively participating in something dumb and fun and stupid, maybe it’ll be enough to make them both feel better. 

“Look, I’m not… I’m not gonna say anything,” he says, tugging Kauri’s hand closer, tracing a line up his arm. I want this. He smiles, let’s the pulse of it spur him on “We can just have fun, okay? I’m not gonna say anything”

Relief washes over Kauri, a wave of it that nearly knocks him over. He’s doing it right, his voice is right, all the training is working and letting him slide into an easier place in his head. His smile isn’t quite sincere and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but the relief in it is very real. 

Besides, the guy is cute, and Kauri would’ve gone home with him, too. 

The ones like you always do.

There’s an unease - he doesn’t always like that things like that are true, about him - and he chases it away by closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts. I want this, I want him - and that part definitely isn’t a lie - and I’ll be safe if I give him this. 

“Okay, um, th-thanks,” He says, voice just a little breathy, ducking his head with another shy smile.”I’m, um, I’m up for basically anything, basically always.” He gives a cheeky little grin and a laugh, like that’s a joke he tells to a lot of people and has memorized the timing on. “Just, I’m not trained for-... I don’t go in for pain. That’s it. Hey, so, um, you know my name… what’s yours? So I know what to scream later.”

He’d heard that in a movie once and always kind of wanted to say it.

Cass laughs, broken harmony against Kauri's own. The line is lame but it doesn’t really matter. Kauri makes it charming. He is ridiculously good at this.

"Cass. But usually people just stick with ‘oh, God'," he laughs, moving in closer, grin against grin. He leans in to brush his lip against Kauri's jaw, slow and teasing, hands staying steady on the guy's knee as Kauri hitches in a breath and shivers, turning his head to give Cass a better angle for it. "And I go for anything."

He wants this. They both do. The relief of something familiar and safe. Just a minute of stupid normal. I want this. Cass plants a kiss at the corner of Kauri's jaw. I want him. Cass lets his hand slide from knee to thigh. I'll be safe if I give him this. Cass pulls himself closer in, brings his fingers up to tangle in the dark curls at the nape of Kauri’s neck and… and… 

I'll be safe if I want this.

The wave of revulsion that runs through him is slow and sickly, like hot tar, like molasses. Familiar and foreign in the same mouthful. 

"Sorry. I, uh," he pulls back and he can feel the ghost of Christopher's hands on his hips, pulling his hair back, lips against his cheek – Don't hesitate, darling boy. Show me what you want.

“Hey… you okay?” Kauri murmurs the words, and it’s with real concern, shivering at the feeling of Cass’s fingers in his hair, slipping his own hands to touch lightly at his ribs on either side, a question and a test. 

Cass feels adrenaline gripping him but that's fine, that's good, because wanting and fear walk the same line anyway. I'm an active participant. Which doesn’t feel like the shape of a thought that’s his but is close enough to that it doesn’t matter. He wants this. It's safer to want it. Then you don't have to think. You don't have to feel. That's why places like this are fun, why nights like these are so good.

So like every other night like this, he pulls in close to prettiest guy in the bar, pushes down the resistance in himself, and kisses him fucking senseless.

Kauri’s head tilts back and up for it, twisting his fingers hard into Cass’s shirt to pull him in even closer, until his head bumps back into the wall behind him and he loses his balance, falling back to sitting on the ground with a soft, sweet little laugh, a breath of air before he lets Cass kiss him mindless again.

The safest he’s felt for weeks is times like this, a man’s hands on him, a man’s mouth on his, knowledge and certainty that someone wants him, that he has something to give other people, some way to earn their kindness and repay it. His hands slide up Cass’s neck to tangle in his hair, too, pulling him in as close as he can get on the ground in a dark alley, skin lighting up everywhere they touch. 

“H-hey, I can’t, ah-...” He breaks free, and flashes the shy little smile again. He feels so good now, safer, because he’ll be good and he knows Cass meant it when he said he wouldn’t tell, he looks like someone who won’t tell anyone, and Kauri has to trust him. “I don’t… I’m technically homeless. So if you think I’m taking you home, uh… welcome to my house, I guess,” He says, gesturing at the alley around them and then laughing a little to himself.

He’s gotten himself this far, but there’s still a hint of the artificial conditioning twining all his conscious thoughts. I want this is real and true but it’s also what he knows how to say, and I’m safer if I want it, I matter if someone wants me and I want to matter to someone runs under honest desire as he moves to slip his hand up under Cass’s shirt. 

“H-how do you, how do you want to… um… this?”

Cass practically vibrates at Kauri's touch and he leans in even closer. Every touch is a relief. His body has been begging for this, for touch, all week

"Well I'd say we could go back to mine but…" Cass thinks of white walls, screaming fluorescents. His tiny quarters with the single bed and the sliding door that Tucker swans in and out of as he pleases. "Mine's not really much of a house either. So I guess we'll just get creative at yours"

He catches Kauri's lips again and pulls himself in closer until he's all but straddling the guy's lap. Kauri moves his body against Cass's like he was custom made for it. He lets his hand come to a gentle rest on the column of the guy's throat, his thumb tracing the line from his chin to his collar and back up again.

This is all Cass has wanted all week. To wrap himself in someone else's wants and just disappear for a bit. And yeah, maybe it feels a little off tonight. A little sickly. Like eating overripe fruit. But it's also been a long time since he's been this close to sober and trying to hook up with someone so who the fuck knows.

"Gotta say, I love what you've done to the place," he adds, breaking the kiss with a grin as he glances around at their elegant surroundings. Kauri laughs, almost a breathless giggle, glad he’s found someone with a real sense of humor even if it’s to keep him from telling anyone who he’s seen. Cass brings his lips to Kauris throat and let's his voice buzz electric along his jugular "I usually swoon for just one dumpster but three? You're such a romantic."

Kauri tips his head back against the wall behind him, staring up into the flat, featureless sky. As soon as Cass says the word Romantic, though, he goes perfectly still. Every muscle tense, for just a second it’s closer to holding a frightened animal than a person.

“Uh, th-thanks,” He manages, shakily, pushing the nerves back down. Just another way to call him a slut, like everyone else does, but he’ll do what he wants and be safer that way. It doesn’t matter if he calls Kauri a whore or a slut or a Romantic, it all means the same thing - people like him. People who can’t stop themselves, who don’t know better, who are nothing and no one unless somebody is touching them.

Cass is nice, and his hands and his mouth feel so good, and it doesn’t matter what he calls Kauri. What matters is giving him what he wants. 

He makes himself relax, consciously, and slides his hands around behind Cass, shifting his hips up, letting training take over again until the nervousness could die back down. I matter if someone wants me, it doesn’t matter why or how, I’m safe if I want this. 

“If you want, I could, um, could g-go down on you,” Kauri breathes, rolling his hips up.  

Cass feels himself grinning at the same moment as he feels his stomach clench in a knot so tight he can hardly breathe. Wanting and fear walk the same line. The latter is easy enough to ignore.

"Fuck yes," he all but moans, swinging his leg around to sit against the wall beside Kauri. Cass fumbles for the button of his jeans. He wants this. Kauri does too. Cass can feel how much he wants this. Kauri wants to feel safe. He wants Kauri to feel safe. And he also wants his brain to shut off and stop screaming discomfort just because the water’s a little muddy.

It doesn't matter if he wants it because it's gonna feel so good once it's happening he won't even care. And then he'll make Kauri feel so good, Kauri won't care either. He won't care about being wanted. He won't care about being safe because Cass will make him feel fucking fantastic. 

And all of that would’ve been fine if Cass didn’t look up and catch Kauri’s eyes.  He feels the knot in his stomach twist. In less than a second any spark of libido he had had rots and dies. There’s no want in Kauri's eyes. No nervous excitement. It’s not eagerness that’s pulling their bodies in close.

Desperation and terror were just one hell of a cocktail. Especially when finished off with resignation.

Cass closes his eyes and let's his head fall against the wall with a dull thunk.

“No,” he whispers. “No, hold on, stop.”

He really wishes he'd had some ket. Or at least a bit of molly. Just something to blunt the edges of whatever the fuck is happening right now. Something is wrong with him.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, shaking his head. He doesn't open his eyes. "Something's wrong, I can't do this. You don't… you don’t..."

Kauri’s hands are still tangled in Cass’s shirt at first, and he slowly pulls them back, worried, leaning forwards to try and tilt his head and look closer at Cass’s face. No no no no. He’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know what, or how - it had seemed right, like it was all happening the way it was supposed to and soon enough he’d forget to be scared and just feel good things until it was done, and if it was good enough Cass wouldn’t tell anybody about him in case maybe he saw him again. 

That’s how it works. Kauri gives, and he gets safety in return. But this isn’t safe.

You don’t even know if you actually want it or if you just think that because they made you. It’s what he thinks the end of that sentence probably is, because it’s what Dustin said when Kauri tried, and it’s what Jake said, and it’s what everyone tells him over and over again. That he can’t even know what he wants, because Owen wanted him brainless and a slut.

“I’m sorry, is it… something I’ve done?”

Cass scoffs a laugh, knocking the back of his head into the brick wall to try and shake his thoughts back straight. What the fuck is he meant to say? Sorry bro, my telepathy killed the mood.

“No,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face “No you didn’t do anything, you just… you’re just-”

You’re just too fucking close to my kind of broken.

There’s a harsh sort of panic bouncing off of Kauri in waves at the rejection. What the fuck is Cass meant to do though? He can’t pretend like everything’s fine because it’s not. He can’t tell him to piss off because then he’d really be an asshole. He can’t fuck him because it’d be… that’d be...

Cass’ stomach lurches. He slams his hands down against the concrete with a growl, kicks at an empty bottle by his leg. It scrapes harsh against the ground in a loud, grating circle and Cass flinches his foot back like it cut him.

“Jesus Christ, this is fucked,” he says, laughter twisting his voice and making it bitter. He looks over at the person who pulled him out of a bar fight ten minutes ago. This random person who he'd started a bar fight for fifteen minutes ago. This random fucking person he shouldn't give two shits about. Cass shakes his head, "You don't wanna be here, man. Just go home."

Kauri snorts, almost bitterly. “I can’t, remember? I don’t fucking have one. Although I guess I could go sit on the bus…” He sighs, watching Cass - and he’s not always good at reading people’s intentions, but he can read emotions fairly well and he can see that Cass looks nearly sick, either angry or upset, and he just takes in a deep breath, putting his hands up over his face and then down again.

“No, I get it. It’s because I’m a pet, right? It’s, you wanted to see what it’s like with a pet. You saw me with that guy and knew, and you thought you’d try, too, and you can’t… don’t want to, once I’m really here.”

Cass is shaking his head before Kauri even finishes speaking. Who calls themself a fucking pet?

"What the fuck? No. Jesus Christ, no," he screws his face up, rakes his hand through his hair.

Cass can feel something volcanic starting to bubble up inside of him.

He had done everything right tonight. He hadn't had too much to drink. He'd helped some random guy in trouble just because it was the right thing to do. He'd taken Kauri’s lead and then he'd read the warning signs and he'd stopped. He’d fucking stopped. How was he still the bad guy?

"No fucking way are you putting that bullshit on me," he spits. "You're the one who pulled me out here. I was just trying to help. You don't know what you want, then don't fuck with people's heads!"

“Fuck with people’s-” Kauri’s own voice edges with real anger. “I didn’t fuck with anybody’s head! I just, this guy hit on me and bought me a drink, and you showed up and said it was drugged! I didn’t do anything wrong, people talk about wanting to try out pets all the time, I-”

He catches himself, cutting off his own voice all at once like turning off a radio. No no no, if you make him mad he’ll tell someone or he’ll get really really mad or…

Kauri looks away, down at the alleyway pavement, scraping at it lightly with one shoe. “... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t get angry. You were really trying to help, and, and that was really nice of you, to do that. I was just trying to, to pay you back, I guess? Besides, you’re… really fucking cute, so…”

It's the exact same trick he'd tried on the guy inside, Cass realises. Make nice with the wolf and hope that it'll be kind when it eats you alive. It's too familiar and too close and aimed at him and Cass wants to retch. It's burnt sugar disgusting. The desperate need to stay safe, to keep everything calm. No matter the cost. No matter what you give away. 

"See, that is exactly what I fucking mean. Two seconds ago you were so mad at me you were basically screaming and now you're apologising and telling me I'm cute just so I'll..."

Cass breaks off, shakes his head, staring up at the hazy not-black of city sky at night. He shoves away the twin claws of rage and confusion as he meets Kauri’s eyes again, tries to keep his voice even and something close to calm.

"Look, I'm not- I'm not gonna say anything, alright? Whatever your deal is, I'm not gonna tell the cops or whatever" Cass tries for a smile "Trust me, I'd be just as fucked."

“Would you really?” Kauri blinks at him, no sign of that earlier flash of anger left, either in his posture or in his expression. He’d done what he’s best at, when it comes to being mad - just pushed it down until he didn’t feel it any longer, and he could see things from the other person’s point of view. Like understanding that Owen was mad because he’d tried to talk to someone when he wasn’t allowed, and that Dustin was mad because Kauri wanted more than he was willing to give, and the way everyone was mad that he wouldn’t sit still.

“And thanks. I won’t tell you what the reward for ‘information regarding my whereabouts’ is, though, if it’s all the same to you.” He tries for a small, slightly sidelong smile, more sincere than his last attempt had been. “Are you a runaway, too? Is there a reward out for you?”

Cass only barely stops himself from balking at the remark. Kauri says it so casually, like having a price on your head is just an everyday annoyance they might be able to bond over. Just all in a day. “Uh… no. No, there isn’t. I would just…” I would just have my contract re-assessed. Risk having my indenture reset. End up permanently locked in the lab. Or back in Christopher’s den.  “My, uh, employer wouldn’t be very impressed if you get what I’m saying”

He adjusts his grip on his arm subconsciously, thumb running over the scar that sits along his inner arm. He’s always sort of wondered if one of Tucker’s little chips is there, just sitting by his radial bone, too close to the artery to risk cutting out himself. Guess he’ll never know.

He snaps his attention back to Kauri. Matches the guy’s smile with his own.

“But a reward, huh? Fuck man.” he says. A lofty one at that, apparently. Kauri Grant. Maybe that’s why the name was familiar. He would’ve seen it on the TV or something. Jesus, he’d had to help the one fuckin’ guy with a more tragic backstory than him. He laughs a little, like this is just some sort of watercooler gossip. Mondays, huh? “What did you do, kill your keeper?”

"My, um, my owner. And… no, I-I couldn't-" Kauri's eyes widen with real horror at the thought. "No, I would never have… um, he was, wasn't always that bad… I probably, I just-... I mean I did fuck up, but I didn't hurt anybody." 

He looks away from Cass, a little uncomfortably, and says, "He, uh. Got mad when I fucked up. He broke a promise, and I… left. I guess you'd see it eventually, since there's no way I wasn't gonna take my shirt off for you."

He pulls down on the stretched-out neckline of his shirt, and even in the dim alley, a bit of a large, twisted scar shows over his collarbone. 

"He paid a lot of money for, for me. I wasn't supposed to be able to leave. I took out the thing he put in to control me."

[artificialqueens]

The 5 Times Bob Tried to Propose and the 1 Time It Worked (Bob/Miz Cracker) - Mac

AN: I’ve been working on this fic for over a year now, and I’m so glad to finally get it out of my drafts. This is a bunch of fluff, with a teeny tiny bit of angst, but a happy ending. I hope you all enjoy! (Special thanks to Saiph for beta-ing, and being an absolute angel.)

Summary: What the title says…

…

It had been a wonderful dinner. Bob had taken Maxwell to their favorite restaurant and ordered pretty much everything on the menu. That was one of the multitude of things they had in common, their love of food. Bob’s heart had been racing the whole meal and subsequently, his leg was bouncing non-stop. Maxwell had been periodically asking him if he was ok, to which Bob had tried to mask his nerves with a smile. Only serving to make Maxwell more curious.

Bob had been planning this for months, the location, the speech, even what he would be wearing. So naturally he wanted this to go well. Bob kept glancing at his watch and looking at Maxwell expectantly. Maxwell gave him a strange look, but smiled at his boyfriend, unsure what had sparked this weird nervousness, but not on the whole opposed to it. It was nice seeing Bob a little out of his element. The comedy queen of season 8 was usually all confidence and wicked smirks. Seeing him nervously looking around and blushing every time their hands touched, was a welcome turn of events.

As Max finally pushed his plate forward and leaned back, Bob grabbed his hand. Maxwell sat up suddenly at the intensity in Bob’s eyes; all the mirth had vanished. His hands were sweaty, and his heart was pounding out of his chest.

Nevertheless, he started his speech. “Max, we’ve been together a while now. We both have big plans for our future, and I know that you’re gonna do amazing things in this world, and I want to be there to witness all those moments.” Bob started to kneel. “Maxwell will-“

A sudden shriek from the opposite end of the restaurant caused both Bob and Maxwell’s heads to turn. A man was on his knees with an outstretched box. A woman, who Bob assumed the annoying sound had come from was crying hysterically. “Yes. Yes, of course!” The patrons began to clap loudly, and Bob could only just pick up Max’s voice above the noise.

“Wow, how tacky.”

Fuck Bob thought. and he let out the breath he had been holding. There goes that.

As the applause died down, Maxwell turned his attention back to Bob. “What were you saying, babe?”

“Oh nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

…

They were visiting Bob’s family in Georgia. It had been a long time since he had been back. Everything looked the same, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. It was sad, but he was happy that he now had confirmation that his life in New York was the right one to be living. Bob’s family embraced him with open arms and scolded him for not calling enough. They told Max he was too skinny, and after feeding him an entire aluminum tray of macaroni, effectively putting him in a food coma, they turned their attention back to Bob. The questions started immediately, and Bob couldn’t help the smile that enveloped his face as he gushed about all his proposal ideas. His family was ecstatic. They had always loved Max, and the year it took the two of them to get their heads out of their asses and start dating, was the longest of their lives. For the rest of the week that Bob and Maxwell were visiting, they kept giving him sly smiles, and dropping hints about different proposal locations. Finally, Bob knew he just had to get away for the day, the incessant nagging, while out of love, was beginning to grate on his nerves. He offered up the county fair to Max, who eagerly accepted, happy to have some alone time together. It was a small affair, but there were hot air balloons and a Ferris wheel, and Max was there, so it was a good time. They walked around to the few booths. Max was surprisingly good at skee ball. And Bob was surprisingly not. Max won a stupidly huge stuffed bear, and made Bob hold it while he ran around like a kid to all the other booths. It was cheesy and silly, but Max’s smile still filled Bob’s chest with a warm fuzzy feeling. Even after all this time, Bob’s heart still beat just as hard as it had the first time. Well maybe not the first first time, because they had simply been strangers at that point. When he thought about it, it still floored him that they could have ended up just being ships in the night, passing in and out of each other’s lives with hardly any notice. He is grateful to whatever deity that possessed him to run after Max all those years ago. It had been awkward at first, Bob standing still and silent, unsure what to say to make Max stay. He finally told Max that he wanted to try. Wanted to give whatever they had, a try. Max took a moment. Bob could see the wheels in his head working so fast smoke was coming out his ears. But then they screeched to a halt suddenly, and Max nodded with a small smile, and the rest was history. Not an entirely peaceful or normal history, they were drag queens for fuck’ sake, but they had made that journey together. Bob hoped against hope that they could continue to do so. And almost as if on cue, almost as a sign from the gods above, Bob spotted a hot air balloon. Not one to ignore signs, Bob grabbed Max’s hand and drug him over to the line. Max gave him a sweet smile and allowed himself to be led into the contraption, with Bob holding his hand, and an employee to drive them. Bob tried to contain his excitement until they were floating some hundred feet above the ground. He held Max close to him, arm wrapped around his lover’s waist, and his own hand in his back pocket fiddling with the box. Max was looking out at the horizon, pointing out buildings and clouds and anything his eyes could touch. Bob hummed his affirmations, too scared to speak without giving away his intentions. Just as the tension became too much, Bob made a grab for the box. Several things happened at once. The balloon dipped suddenly and without warning, causing the box that contained the ring in Bob’s hand to fly out into the air. Max shrieked and grabbed onto the basket tightly as the wind whipped all around them, sounding like a scream. And the attendant that was supposed to be flying the damn thing was frantically running around the small space doing god knows what. Bob felt his stomach drop at the loss of the ring, but he couldn’t worry about that now with Max clutched against his chest, and the wind still beating on the sides of the basket, hundreds of miles above ground. They stayed pressed together, breathing in each other’s air for what felt like years. The wind whipped and screeched, but Bob held fast to Max. The older man began to have trouble breathing. Bob grabbed Max’s face in between his hands and made a conscious effort to slow his own breathing. Max started at him helplessly, trying his best to calm down. Bob recognized Max having an anxiety attack. After so many years together, he knew the signs like the menu at their favorite restaurant. Bob held Maxwell’s face steady and began whispering reassurances, “It’s ok. You are ok. Just breathe with me. Can you do that?” Max nodded jerkily, and squeezed his eyes shut. Sometimes when he was having these attacks he hit, what he described as “sensory overload.” Sometimes sounds could be too much, sometimes touch could be too much, sometimes even looking at anything was too much. Bob had gotten pretty good at reading Max’s needs at these times, but he still got things wrong. So, he would always ask if what he was doing was ok. “Is it ok that I’m holding you?” A nod. “Do you want me to stop talking?” A shake. “Ok.” Bob continued breathing in and out slowly, occasionally whispering to Max that everything was ok and that it was going to be ok. And before long, the wind died down, and the balloon touched none too gently on the ground. Max bolted out of the small space, and Bob followed close behind, sulking a bit when Max wasn’t looking. Maxwell held his hand the entire drive back to Bob’s house, and only let him go when he had to undo his seat belt.

…

Bob read on three separate marriage blogs that skywriting your proposal was really “in” right now. Bob never considered himself super trendy, but he figured it was over dramatic and sweet, so Max would appreciate it.

He had run into quite a few problems right from the start. They lived in New York City, which had some strange, but understandable laws about flying planes close to buildings. So, Bob had to schedule the proposal a few weeks out, and come up with some excuse to get Max and himself away from tall buildings, which sounded a lot easier said than done. Ultimately, Bob made the plans, and the payments, and went to bed feeling slightly better about his previous failed attempts.

Finally, the morning came, and Bob’s alarm blared into the previously silent bedroom. Max groaned loudly and attempted to silence the alarm by throwing a pillow at it. This only left the clock on the ground, and Maxwell without a pillow. Bob chuckled lightly at his boyfriend, who was now burrowing his head into Bob’s side and pouting. Bob started stroking Max’s hair lightly, and could have done so for hours, if only the high-pitched wailing of the clock weren’t so damn annoying.

Bob sighed and untangled himself from the human leech that was a sleepy Maxwell, to turn off the alarm. Max groaned again when Bob flung open the curtains, letting the early light dance along the walls of their shared room.

“Five more minutes.” Max pleaded; head still buried in the sheets.

“No, c’mon we’re gonna miss it.” Bob pulled the blankets and sheet clear off the bed, leaving Max grumpily looking up at him between his fingers. Well, as grumpily as a grown man in boxer shorts with a pout can.

“Miss what?”

“Miss Vanjie”

Max laughed despite himself.

He got back at Bob by taking his sweet ass time getting ready. Bob eventually had to physically pull Max out of the apartment so they wouldn’t be late.

They took a taxi and sat in relative silence with Max’s head resting on Bob’s shoulder, only occasionally sitting up to ask Bob where they were going. Bob refused to answer, but as they drove, and the signs for the pier became more frequent, Max started to get an idea.

When they pulled up, Max jumped out of the taxi excitedly, leaving Bob to fork over the fare. Max practically ran over to the line for the ferry and looked back at Bob expectantly.

Bob knew Max had always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty up close. Even though they both had been in New York long enough to call it Home, neither had been to see the iconic landmark yet. Bob had found it too touristy, and practically pointless, but Maxwell was a bit of a history nerd.

Every time they would vacation, Max would ask to go to the local museum. And not the big nice ones, no. He wanted to go to the tiny ones in the middle of bumfuck nowhere towns that were run by some old man that the town had nicknamed something that started with a J.  It was Bob’s personal opinion that all the old men they had met over the years were ghosts haunting them. Each time he told Max this, the older man would chuckle and press a kiss to his cheek, before turning back to inspect the artifacts. And while Bob didn’t understand it, who was he to get in the way of Max’s weird fascinations?

They piled on a too crowded boat, that felt like it could tip over at any moment, and Bob tried to not let his nerves show, but he couldn’t help his hands fidgeting. Max noticed, and placed his own hands in Bob’s larger ones, interlocking their fingers with a small smile.

Bob looked up at the sky, trying to make out where the plane would come from, and where his message would end up. It took Bob until the ferry was almost across the river to realize something had gone wrong. And it took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out what exactly had gone wrong.

In the midst of all his planning and prepping, he had completely forgotten to check the weather. The overcast sky was filled with so many clouds, no wonder the white smoke message didn’t appear.

Bob felt completely dejected but tried to put on a brave face for Max, who was eagerly running about, interrogating any tour guides in the immediate area.

…

Bob had no idea how to cook. He had tried and failed many times before. For their anniversaries, Maxwell would always take the lead, restricting Bob to dish duty, and even then, Bob managed to fuck something up. This time was going to be different, at least, that’s what Bob was telling himself. Breakfast in bed, the most classic romantic gesture, with a bit of a twist.

He had been scrolling endlessly on Amazon when he found it. A simple teacup that when filled with liquid hid the “Will you marry me?” message. Bob immediately added it to his cart. He had pulled up some fancy recipe for Quiche and woke up at the ass crack of dawn to cook.

It started off fine.

Bob cut the onions, washed the spinach, and scrambled the eggs. Everything seemed fine, until he started rolling out the pie crust. It was way too flimsy and kept breaking apart in the pan. Bob ended up working some kind of patchwork magic, filling in the holes as best he could, before combining all the ingredients into the pan. He said a silent prayer to any god that would listen and placed the pan in the oven. He put the kettle on the stove and sat back on their tiny little couch.

He felt himself comforted by the tattered blanket that was draped across his legs. Maxwell brought it from his old apartment. Bob smiles at the memory. Two apartments. It feels strange now to think that there was ever a time when he could breathe without Maxwell by his side. Or in his bed.

Moving in together was a normal step of most relationships that had lasted as long as his and Maxwell’s, but that step had been by far the hardest to work through.

Max had always been hesitant in their relationship. He overthought everything, and whenever there was a time to make a big relationship step, Bob had to be the one to make it. After a while, Bob started to worry that he was pressuring Max, or that his feelings weren’t reciprocated in the way he thought they were. When he communicated this to Max, the older man insisted it wasn’t anything to do with Bob himself.

“The reason I seem so hesitant is because I’ve been in relationships in the past where my affections, or at least, the degree at which I showed my affections, was not appreciated. I know you love me, and all the crazy that comes with that. But for me, sometimes I just feel like-like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for you to realize that I’m way too into you, or not worth any of this mess. I’m just so scared if you knew how much I love you, you would run.”

Bob held him a little closer that night, and wiped his tears, and assured him that he was loved and wanted and so incredibly special. They fell asleep on the tiny couch, with dried tears on both of their faces, but a new blanket and a little less space in the closet.

Only after thoroughly getting lost in his own memories did Bob realize he had completely forgotten to add cheese. He ran to the kitchen and threw open the oven. Eyeballing about half the package of cheese, he threw it haphazardly on the top of the pie. He noticed that the filling was quite close to the top of the pan, but Bob remembered reading that this was normal, so he didn’t worry much.

Thirty minutes later, the smoke alarm sounded.

“Fuck!” He heard from the bedroom.

“Max, wait hold on!”

Bob shot up from the couch and threw open the oven, which was releasing an alarming amount of smoke. Maxwell was hot on his heels, and immediately threw open a window fanning the smoke to the bustling New York City morning. Bob grabbed the still hot pan and threw it on the stove, but in the process, he knocked over the kettle and cup in one swipe. The cup and kettle fell to the ground in a deafening crack, and Bob felt a bit of his heart crack too.

Maxwell immediately ran over to help, most of the smoke clear now. He pulled Bob away from the broken cup, and grabbed his hands, red marks from the hot pan angrily looking back at him. Maxwell grabbed the first aid kit from their shared closet and sat Bob down on the couch as he washed the burns with the lightest touch. Cup forgotten, mess forgotten, it was just the two of them, and Bob’s burning skin.

Max grabbed white vinegar from the still wreck of a kitchen and winced as Bob breathed in at the contact. All the while, Bob was focused on how his heart still swelled in his chest every time their hands touched. Maxwell finally sat back on the couch after pressing a light kiss to Bob’s hands.

“What on earth were you doing? I thought I revoked your kitchen rights after that instance with the brownies.” Maxwell wasn’t angry, thank god. He was just concerned. He also had this sad look in his eye; the likes Bob wasn’t familiar with. Bob knew after his previous attempts at proposing, Max was getting suspicious, and with every failed attempt, Bob distanced himself further. He was trying not to, but it was hard. It just felt like the world was out to get him and Max’s relationship.

“Sorry, Max. Was just trying to surprise you with somethin nice. Won’t happen again.” Bob crossed his heart. “I swear it.”

Maxwell smiled lightly, trying to keep from asking all the questions he so desperately wanted to ask. He instead opted for draping himself on top of Bob. The position wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, for either of them, but they stayed there until the sun was high in the sky, and the spilled tea hung heavy in the air.

That smell never quite left either.

…

I didn’t know it yet

That you would be the one

The first place we met

Our adventure had begun

Max looked at the note quizzically, according to Dusty’s recollection. He asked if it was some kind of joke. Dusty did his best not to spill the beans right there, and just told Maxwell to trust him. And so, the adventure began.

Bob had been planning this for weeks. He was by no means a poet, or even good with words most of the time, but he had gotten all their friends involved, and even people who weren’t their friends. There were clues hidden in all their usual date spots, as well as a few private moments they had shared together.

The first clue led to the side of a street in New York City. Monét was standing in the exact spot Bob remembered seeing Maxwell all those years ago. She handed Maxwell the second clue, who, by this point, was smiling goofily. Not quite sure what was going on, but by now, he was used to Bob’s antics.

Libraries full

Got nothing on you

The place I hate

Where you almost flew

The first time they fought. It wasn’t a happy memory, but a necessary one. It marked the time Max didn’t give in to his Inner Saboteur.

They had yelled and screamed in the middle of a bookstore. Bob still can’t remember what it was about, neither of them could. But all he knows is that the door flung open. Maxwell stood in the doorway for too long. The tinny music was the only sound that filled the practically empty bookstore. The two of them were in limbo. The musty smell didn’t matter. The nosy shop owner didn’t matter. The overwhelming feeling of dread that Bob had didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that Max stayed. He breathed in and out. Once. Twice. Then turned around.

He walked right up to Bob. He didn’t say anything, he just stood there.

And that was it.

They went about their night with biting quips here and there, tension still thick, but they were together.

Bob wanted to revisit all the places that meant anything to them. He wasn’t sure if Max would remember, but sure enough, he got that sad look on his face, at least according to Vanjie. She said, in between her gushing about her own wedding, that Max looked sad, but he knew exactly where to go to find the next clue. Bob had gotten Maxwell’s favorite book, a first edition copy for their three-year anniversary.

I’ve never been prouder

You light up my world

Come to the place

Where my heart first curled

The place they said, “I love you.” Bob couldn’t forget it even if he tried, and he never did. They had been perched up on the High Line. Looking out over the city. The world felt so full and bright and busy. Bob knew that was where he belonged, and that brought him joy, and at the same time, he felt sadness, because he knew his time in this great city would come to an end. He was overwhelmed, and when Maxwell leaned his head on his shoulder, he couldn’t help it. It just slipped out.

Maxwell had looked pensive as his face was caressed by the chilly New York City night air. But he said it back after a few seconds. And from that moment on, they couldn’t stop smiling at each other. Those sickly-sweet smiles that made others around them want to hurl, but secretly happy at the same time.

To you I’ll be true

Forever and a day

Don’t run too fast

I’ll get in your way

This is when it all went awry.

Maxwell had no idea where to go.

Looking back, Bob could have been clearer in his instructions. Maxwell wandered around the city practically all night; Bob was a helpless victim, watching as his soon-to-be fiancé went around to all the wrong places. Somehow, Maxwell missed the last three clues, but ended up in the right place anyway, back at their apartment. But rather than a romantic dinner and gushing about their wedding, the food was cold, and Bob was too tired and sad to answer any of Maxwell’s incessant questions. They ate in a stiff silence as Bob wondered if he even wanted to get married.

…

Bob had given up. He had tried on five separate occasions to propose to Max, and each time he hadn’t been able to. Maybe it was the universe telling him something. Maybe he and Maxwell weren’t meant to be.

That thought struck a chord in Bob, and he physically winced at it. Maxwell was everything to him. He was the only one that ever-made Bob feel right. He pushed the thought away and tried to focus on his lover’s words. “Are you even listening to me?”

Bob shook his head to clear it. “Yes, sorry.”

“You seem a bit…off lately.”

Bob sighed, “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just work ya know?”

“I do, but it seems like more than that.” Maxwell bit his lip, obviously refraining from saying something.

“What?” Bob’s words were harsh, and he regretted the tone immediately.

“It’s just that you don’t act like yourself anymore. Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

Bob was exasperated with himself at this point. Not only had he failed to propose to the man he loves, but he made the man he loves doubt their relationship.

Bob couldn’t even begin to explain his feelings to Max, so he just settled for, “No. I’m fine, I told you, it’s just work.”

Maxwell sat back. “Yeah sure.” Sarcasm was bitterly woven through the vowels.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me the truth!” Maxwell snapped, he looked regretful, but offered no apology. Bob just sat there, shocked at the tone, and frozen in place. He didn’t know what to say.

Apparently, this was the wrong answer, because Maxwell got up and started walking away from him. As if to emphasize this fight, rain suddenly began to pour down on the two of them. Bob squinted as he looked up to the sky and screamed, “No. I don’t believe it. You’re wrong.”

He probably looked insane, yelling up at the sky, but it made perfect sense to him. If the universe didn’t think that he and Maxwell should be together, then fuck the universe.

Bob ran after his boyfriend, hardly noticing the state of his clothes. He grabbed Maxwell’s arm, who tried to wrench it away, but Bob held fast.

“Let me go, Chris.”

Bob took one look in his eyes as the rain came pouring down all around them, and he knew that this was the moment he had been waiting for. “Marry me.”

Maxwell stepped back. “What?”

Bob smiled widely and said it again. “Marry me.” A wary look from Maxwell made him realize how strange he must look, so he fumbled around in his pockets for a second before kneeling. “Marry me.”

Maxwell looked at him bewildered, and for a split-second Bob thought he must have gotten it wrong, but just as the silence began to get uncomfortable, a smile broke out on his face. He pulled Bob up by his soaked shirt into a kiss. Rain was falling all around them, and Bob knew he would never be able to wear these shoes again; his body was cold, and his hands were clammy, and it was nothing like he had planned it, but it was perfect. And the ring fit perfectly on Maxwell’s finger.

[dyslexicsquirrel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Captain America (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes, James Rhodes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Carol Danvers, Happy Hogan Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, Schmoop Summary: Tony Stark hated jocks… or he had until the new kid transferred to their school.

Stony Bingo 2019 round 2 (square S1) Prompt: stretching

Tony Stark hated jocks. It’s a truth universally accepted at their school. Everyone knows not to ask him to go to pep rallies or football games or donate to the Get Insert Sports Team New Uniforms fund. He’ll laugh at you and go back to doing something more important, which is anything other than that.

Tony Stark hated jocks… or he had until the new kid transferred to their school. His step brother was another matter. “Bucky” Barnes was a rude, sarcastic guy and this school only had room for one of those and Tony was already filling that spot, thanks. But Steven Grant Rogers? (He might have had his friend Pepper who volunteered in the principal's office find out his name) Well, he was another story.

Steve (that’s what everyone called him Tony had found out) was the kind of blonde and blue eyed that should have been boring, but he somehow made the most attractive thing Tony had seen in, well, ever. He was tall and built in a way that usually put him off (read: hates jocks), but Tony kept finding his eyes drifting to him whenever they were in the same room.

He played football, was the damn quarterback, for Christ’s sake, but none of that seemed to matter. Tony wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

On top of being stupidly good looking? Steve was also a genuinely nice guy. He wasn’t mean to anyone, stuck up for the kids who got picked on, in fact. He said hello to people in the halls, had a laugh that was infectious, and a smile that brightens a room (and since when did he spout flowery crap like that?). There had to be something wrong with him; Tony was convinced.

“Why are you so determined to find a flaw in this guy?” Pepper had asked him a few days ago and Tony hadn’t been able to answer her.

“Because he doesn’t want to be attracted to a meathead,” Rhodey has piped up from the other side of the table at lunch.

“Don’t call him that,” Tony had automatically defended and then wanted to smack himself when Rhodey smirked and Pepper blinked at him. “Oh, just shut up both of you,” he’d snapped and left the cafeteria.

So, Tony May have ended up spending the last couple days <strike>spying</strike> investigating Steve Rogers to find out what was wrong with him. The only problem was that Tony 1) hadn’t found any hidden flaws (he really seemed to be a hot, nice guy who just happened to be a jock) and 2) he saw Steve stretching before practice yesterday.

Blame stupid, teenage hormones maybe (he might be a genius, but he was still a high school senior), but Tony’s brain short circuited. He’d been walking past the practice field, ostensibly on his way to somewhere else, reading a book for cover, when he glanced up and there was Steve, bent over, touching his toes.

The guy had a really nice ass. And in those stupid, tight football pants he was only now starting to appreciate? Well… yeah. He might have become a tad obsessed.

He watched all the scheduled practices (covertly) and he might have (not on purpose) found out what days Steve came to school early to work out and he might have, (once—accidentally) ended up at a football game with Pepper, who was dating some kid in marching band named Happy.

“Why don’t you just talk to him, Tony?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told her, pretending to read so no one would notice him watching the game. Pepper had scoffed, but let it drop and ignored him the rest of the night. Tony had not watched Steve throw around a stupid ball in those. Damn. Pants.

Tony thought he’d been so smooth and stealthy, but if he had been Steve wouldn’t have just walked up behind him and said, “Hey,” now would he? Tony squeaked, and if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, slammed into his locker when he turned around.

“Are you okay?”

“I,” Tony started, but had to clear his throat. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Steve was still frowning at Tony with his perfect face, looking at him with concerned blue eyes.

He stood up straighter, pushing his shoulders back. And because he was feeling unnerved what came out of his mouth next was a snarky, “Can I help you?”

Steve blinked at him, tugging on the straps of his backpack. “Well, actually.” He started blushing. Every higher power save me, Tony thought because the guy was legit blushing. “I was wondering if you had a date for prom.”

“What now?” That sentence didn’t make sense.

“Prom. Uh, are you going? I mean, would you like to go. With me.”

“You’re asking me to prom?”

“Yes.”

“You’re asking me to prom?”

“Yes,” Steve said again, now sounding uncertain and Tony didn’t blame him.

“Why?” The question shot out of his mouth with no authorization from his higher brain function.

“Because,” Steve struggled to answer and Tony felt his shoulder start to slump. This was some pity thing or a joke and he felt stupid for even one second thinking Steve would like him, but guess what? He didn’t need Steve’s pity or him to like him. But thenSteve said, “Because you’re smart.” His head jerked up, eyes finding Steve’s. He looked so earnest. “And you’re cute.” Steve thought he was cute. “And, uh, also because my brother said you’ve been checking me out so I figured I had a shot.”

Stupid Bucky. And stupid him for thinking he had been so secretive about it. Tony rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, but he admitted, “I might have. Once or twice.” He bit his lip. “You really think I’m smart?”

“Tony,” Steve huffed, chuckling. “You’re like the smartest kid in school. Of course, I think you’re smart.”

“And cute?” He started to smile and took a step closer so they almost touched.

“Yeah.” Steve’s hands tightened around his backpack strap.

Tony grinned, reaching out to grip Steve’s letterman jacket. “Okay, I’ll go to prom with you.”

And that was how Tony Stark, hater of jocks, ended up dating the quarterback of the football team. Prom was a big group affair. Pepper and Happy, Rhodey and Carol, Bucky and his boyfriend from his old school Sam (who drove two hours to get there—Tony was impressed by his dedication). They all met at his house and piled in a limo after his mom took a million pictures and his dad told them to make sure to be back on time so he didn’t have to pay the driver overtime. Steve bought Tony a corsage, not a boutineer, and it was perfect. They danced and laughed with their friends and maybe, Tony would admit to himself, Bucky wasn’t really that bad. And if Tony and Steve snuck off to make out in a coat closet, well, what the chaperones didn’t find out wouldn’t hurt them.

The last year of high school was so different from the previous three and not just because he was wearing his boyfriend’s letterman jacket, his boyfriend who happened to be a jock. He was happy in a way he couldn’t remember being before. It wasn’t all Steve, a relationship hadn’t suddenly fixed all his problems, but he definitely helped. Steve still blushed when Tony kissed him in the halls and it was just too cute.

Tony was going to MIT in the fall and Steve got a full ride to Boston College cause sports. They’d only be like four miles away from each other (Tony might have Googled that).

They were sitting in the bed of Steve’s pick up one night, Tony cradled between Steve’s arms and legs, his back against Steve’s chest. “I was thinking…”

“Hmm?” Tony prompted when Steve trailed off and didn’t pick back up.

Steve propped his chin on Tony’s shoulder. “I was thinking that maybe, at some point, we could move in together.”

Tony shifted around until he could see Steve’s face. “What?”

“In Boston.” Steve hesitated, biting at his bottom lip. “Not right away, but eventually. Maybe. If you wanted.”

Tony turned until he was on his knees and looped his arms around Steve’s neck. He kissed him, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. When he pulled back it was just enough to speak, keeping his tone light and teasing. “You’re asking me to move in with you.”

Steve did smile or joke back. He looked Tony dead in the eye and said, “I love you.”

Tony blinked at Steve for a moment then leaned back and smacked him on his chest. Steve looked at him with wounded eyes, hand pressed to the spot Tony had smacked even though it couldn’t have hurt because Tony barely tapped him, but Tony felt a goofy smile trying to break through the frown he tried to keep up to make a point. “You’re telling me this now?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s not exactly that romantic m. We’re sitting in your truck which is parked in my parent’s driveway and my mom is probably watching us from the window.” Tony gestured to said window and there was a tell tale flutter of a curtain.

“Anywhere with you is romantic, babe,” Steve declared, hands coming to rest on Tony’s hips under the letterman jacket which Tony was wearing even though it was summer and it was hot. He didn’t like taking it off cause it was Steve’s and they couldn’t be together 24/7 for practical reasons.

“That’s nice, but this means I can’t kiss you the way I want.” Tony poured and let himself be pulled in to Steve’s chest and wrapped in Steve’s arms. “I love you, too,” he said softly into Steve’s neck.

They sat like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, but of course Tony couldn’t just let it rest. He sat up. “And of course I’ll move in with you. Maybe sophomore or junior year. I want to take advantage of that meal plan my parents are going to buy me—”

Tony broke off with a shout when Steve started tickling him and he ended up flat on his back, panting laughs, with Steve braced above him. Steve nipped at his lower lip. “Your mom can’t see us now.”

“Give it a few minutes,” Tony said rolling his eyes. “She’ll come out to check on us because she probably think we’re having sex and the neighbors will be so scandalizes.”

There wasn’t a lot of light out here, but Tony knew that Steve was blushing. He huffed a laugh, pressing their foreheads together. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

So Tony did.

[onepumpofsyrup]

ON THREE, QUIETLY II Cha Hakyeon II Intro

On Three, Quietly // Cha Hakyeon // Intro

VIXX: N

Pairing : N x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst, Humor, Romance

Words :  1,600+

Summary : Trouble comes and goes for every idol. At times its best to combat it with a well minded publicist. VIXX though, hate their new publicists. She’s bossy, nosey, and seems to care more about her paycheck than them. Her only goal is to prove them wrong. Their goal is for Hakyeon to seduce her into leaving.

(A/N)This story is another huge ass thank you to all of my followers.

It seemed ridiculous to sit at a table that sat 30 people but currently only had 3 surrounding it. It seemed that its current use was to flaught status. Rather than use a smaller meeting room, this large one had been chosen to impress, and yet, you only found it odd.

What’s the point of using such a large table if it’s not even a quarter full?

It’s silly, that’s what it is.

Is it supposed to be an intimidation tactic?

Oh look at us we’re so important that we have a big table for big meetings.

Does it make you feel tiny?

No, it doesn’t.

It’s stupid and I hate it.

Turning your gaze to the two men opposite you, a smirk easily played across Hwang Se Jun’s, Ceo of Jellyfish Entertainment, older face. An opposing grimace hardened the face of the current manager for VIXX. It seemed one thought he’d caught you while the other was assuming the worst.

One was correct to look as he had. The other was a fool in your eyes. One who thought he was in charge of the situation and one who knew the score.

Leaning forward you rested your arms on the aforementioned stupidly large table and asked, “So tell me, if I leave my current position as Ji Chang Wook’s publicist, you’ll match the pay at what increase?”

“I’ll double it,” Hwang Se Jun responded, still looking lazily satisfied with himself. 

Your jaw nearly dropped. “You’ll double it? That can’t ever mean anything good. How terrible are these boys? How much work and exhaustion is this going to cost me?”

Veins stood out against the managers neck. He looked as if he was going to pass out from keeping silent.

I wonder how much trouble he’ll get into for speaking his mind to me.

He seems like he has so much to say.

Or maybe he doesn’t like me.

What was his name again?

He’s lasted this long with VIXX, he must be a decent manager.

Maybe I could hire him out from Jellyfish Entertainment.

“They’re not terrible boys. Their hardworking and passionate. They just happen to be a bit of trouble makers,” Hwang Se Jun stated calmly. “They’ve gotten into a bit of trouble lately due to some...behavior. They just need a little pick me up.”

You sighed, knowing the full truth wasn’t being told. “A little pick me up? If you want a little pick me up, hire someone else. I reverse images quickly and efficiently. If you want someone who will make the boys look good for 5 minutes, I’m not who you want to hire. I solve scandals. I don’t do pick me ups.”  

“Rumors are going around that Leo attacked someone and that Ravi has a pregnant girlfriend,” the manager squeaked out. Hwang Se Jun’s glare landed on him, causing the man to shrink in his seat.

Hwang Se Jun let out a nervous chuckle for the first time not looking fully full of himself. “That makes it seems so bad. I promise it’s not.”

Your eyebrow went up slightly. “And what’s the truth?” “Despite Ravi’s image, he’s terrified of women. He states that she is a girl he went to school with and that they are only untrue allegations,” he stated slowly, as if exhausted from explaining the same thing over again to another interested party.

That doesn’t make sense.

Those kinds of rumors aren’t usually started unless something instigated it.

Whether it’s true or not, it has to be prompted by something.

“And you believe this?” Your question was directed at the CEO, but your sight strayed to the manager.

“I don’t distrust my artists.” His words were steady and, the heavy cadence alluding to his confidence in his artists. But the way the manager’s gaze flitted to the ground, told you that the CEO should have had reason to worry.

You nodded, accepting his statement. “And the other one? The charges of violence?”

“Those...are slightly true. Leo has a very soft heart when it comes to animals and doesn’t shy away from defending them. He witnessed some abuse and may have lost his temper.” His fingers ticked against the table. An odd habit for one seemingly as controlled as he was portraying himself to be within the conversation.

Your heart did a little flip and you repressed an aww.

I this is not the time to sigh and flutter at the behaviors of others.

You gotta stay profesional.

Pro. Fes. Ion. Al.

Profesional.

Get it.

Live it.

No getting sweetsie for a boy with a soft heart.

While you were interested in the position, you weren’t quick to jump on it. Your features were schooled so as not to reveal anything to either men. “I enjoy working for Mr. Ji. Your offer isn’t really tempting enough to leave that position.”

Sweeten the pot and I’ll take the job.

I’m not working with 6 rambunctious boys unless you really make it worth my time.

“He’s currently serving his military enlistment, how much work are you actually doing right now for him?”

Almost none actually.

Ji Chang Wook has always been a good boy but that doesn’t mean I’ll willing give him up.

Sweeten the pot Mr. Ceo.

We both know I’m worth it.

“I work closely with my own team. If I were to work with you...you’d be required to purge everyone currently with VIXX. Would you be okay with that?” And that was your trump card. That card that would show you whether they were serious about wanting you or not.

The managers face flushed, looking frightened at the prospect of losing his job to the person he was currently interviewing.

“I have my own manager, stylists, coordinators. My people will handle everything that involves their image. You will still have freedom to employ whoever you wish when it comes down to the creative process. But every single event or promotion, will be handled by my people.”

“That’s fine,” He then turned to the manager, “You still have a job, but for the time being I think it best if we moved you to another group.”

“Sir!”

Hook, line, sinker.

This will be my biggest pay out.

You leaned back into your seat, relaxed and at ease. “Triple my current pay. And I’ll be more than happy to have my team work with you. I normally only work with 1 idol, as such I expect to be compensated if I am to care for the image of 6 people. I’ll need to add a few people to my team so as to handle the added number of artists.”

Hwang Se Jun stood and offered his hand. “I believe we have a deal.”

***

A new team?

Why the hell did they need a new team?

Hakyeon’s face flushed with heat, from anger, exasperation, or both. He wasn’t sure.

“What’s wrong with the people we have now?” Hyuk asked hotly, glaring at the publicist being introduced to them.

He hated her. They all seemed to hate her. With her stupid friendly smile and stiff back. He could see that deep down, she was going to be ice.

Who is she, to step into our world, and demand that we follow her rules?

She doesn’t understand anything.

And she wants to pretend she does?

We’re fine.

We don’t need her.  

Hwang Se Jun sighed, as if exhausted by the long discussion he’d been forced into. “She comes with her own team.”

“We don’t want to work with her team.” Jaehwan nearly growled arms folded across his chest and angry expression stapled to his face.

The tick above Hwang Se Jun’s temple seemed to be getting worse, obviously growing annoyed. “You should have considered that before you ruined your image.”

Wonshik shoved himself from his spot on the couch, strong form standing tall and demandingly. The bitch took a step back looking uncomfortable with Wonshiks aggression.  “We didn’t ruin our image. Things happened. So why should our people be punished for it?”

“Your people aren’t being punished. They still work for the label. They are still getting paid the same paycheck. They just aren’t babying you anymore.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss (Y/L/N) is an amazing publicist. She can turn any image around. Allow her to do her job.”

“We don’t have an image problem,” Wonshik continued to argue.

Hakyeon reached toward the younger man, guiding him back into his seat.

She, the demon, finally stepped forward and began with, “I’m excited about this partnership. I assure you that my team is very competent and works very hard to accomplish our goals. Please allow them to take care of you.”

With a final fake smile and a half bow, she turned and exited the room with Hwang Se Jun. Leaving Hakyeon and his members behind.

Hongbin’s gaze shot towards him. “Why didn’t you say anything,” He hissed.

He leaned back in his seat, head tilted back and hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, hoping it would relieve some tension. “I don’t know what I‘m supposed to say. He’s already made his decision.”

“You’re supposed to get rid of her.” Taekwoon interjected quietly from his corner.

He pointed an accusatory finger towards him. “This is partly your fault. If you had kept your hands to yourself.”

Taekwoon’s face turned red, a color that often frequented his shy features. “And would you have done any differently?”

No. None of us would have done any differently.

“Who is she to think she can boss us around,” Wonshik standing up and beginning to pace the room.

“She’s no one,” he answered.

And they would treat her as such.

[bts-svt-mx]

Kiss and Tell (M) - Chapter 1

OT7 x Reader

Author: bts-svt-mx

Rating: Smut, with a side of Humor

Tags: References to alcohol and kickbacks, References to hooking up/sex, smut (in next chapters), non-idol au, humor

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Word Count: 2,760

Description: There’s an argument to be settled amongst your friends. Which one of them is the best at hooking up? In a room full of competitive men, it’s now up to you to settle it. Once and for all.

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     “Bullshit!” Hoseok calls out to the rest of the group, his legs launching himself up from his previous position on the couch next to you. “We all know I’ve got game. A girl who spends a night with me never leaves unsatisfied,” A cocky smirk plastered on his face, he looks around the room for one of you to back him up on his claim.

     But instead of anyone’s voice of support, a scoff echoes from the loveseat situated at the corner of the large living area of the Bangtan Boy’s shared home. “That’s not what the girl from the bar said last night,”

     Yoongi’s words come out pretty quietly but that doesn’t stop the room full of the boys and you from bursting into laughter at the aftermath of Hoseok’s conquest from the night before.

     Confusion at Yoongi’s words flash across Hoseok’s face. 

     Poor boy. So blissfully unaware of the fact that once he was done with his quickie in the bar’s bathroom, that same girl had passed by the rest of us with her friend complaining about how the dickdown she just got would never compare to Jaehyun. Whoever that might be. 

     Meanwhile, Hobi came strolling out looking like he just won a gold medal in the Olympics of Bar Hookups.

     The reason for Hoseok’s outburst had been a result of the most recent conversation topic of what was supposed to be a nice sober game night, but what had ended up as a full on drunken kickback.

     There were a few of your other friends over earlier in the night, but they had since gone home. Leaving you with your 7 best guy friends all around you.

     It was a rare time in all of your lives. Every single one of you were officially single. 

     This hadn’t been the case since you had first met the crazy group of men 3 years ago. At any given time, one or more of you had always been in a relationship.

     Unsurprisingly, Namjoon had been the last one of the group to still be boo-ed up, but his girlfriend of 2 and a half years recently broke it off due to her feeling like they were ‘growing apart’. Though it was still a relatively sore subject for Namjoon, it meant that all 8 of you were now simultaneously single for the first time in forever.

     When no one replies to Hobi’s frantic questioning of what had happened after he left the girl last night, he plops back down on the couch next to you in a huff of frustration. The temper tantrum, making you subsequently bounce in place from the returned weight the couch had to hold again.

     From next to you on the other side, Taehyung’s low voice chimes in. “Well I think we can all agree that I’m the best kisser of the group,” His eyebrows wiggle as he sneakily nudges you in your side. 

     His simple touch sends you back in time a year and a half ago to when Taehyung and you briefly had a very secretive hookup. And you mean very brief and very secretive. Like so brief it was only one kiss.

     Okay maybe two kisses. And also a full on makeout session, but that’s besides the point. 

     Ultimately, you both decided it wasn’t the time for either of two to get into a relationship that could ruin not only your friendship but the whole group’s dynamic.

     You didn’t tell any of the other boys. Not even Jimin, the one you were closest to out of the group. 

     Just Taehyung and you knew about your own little fling and that was how it was going to stay.

     The rest of the room was too busy to notice Taehyung’s telling gesture to you as his statement had sent everyone into a heated debate ranging from who was the best kisser to who was the best at sex to who got the most girls.

     There were too many voices shouting at one time to be able to decipher anything they were trying to say. And quite honestly all you really were taking away from this whole debacle was that this was simply a group of competitive boys just trying to win at whatever weird game this became.

     You were no stranger to hooking up. But to save face, your lips were sealed, electing to not take part in this debacle. 

     You’ve had your own fair share of hookups in the past and even a boyfriend or two in the last few years. Quite honestly, you were very confident about your own skills in that area but you’ll never understand the need for boys to try to one up each other over their abilities. Is it really that important?

     “Remember that one time when I hooked up with 3 different sorority girls in one night?” Jimin said jumping up in front of Jin.

     “Oh yeah? Have any of you ever had a girl camp out outside of your dorm room to try to get you to take her back after only a week of being with her?” Jin chimed in talking a hundred words a second.

     “They didn’t vote me best kisser senior year in high school for no reason!” Taehyung barked at Yoongi.

     “Well I-”

     “Oh my god will you all just put your fucking dicks away?!” Your sudden outburst silenced the room, each of the boy’s attention now turned towards your position on the couch.

     Now that certainly shut them up.

     “I don’t know why you bother arguing about this. There really isn’t a way for any of you to prove whatever the hell you’re trying to prove, now is there? So what’s the point in arguing?” You explain, leaning back against the plush sofa crossing your arms.

     The initial shock of your uncharacteristic outburst dissipates, but your friends are still relatively silent, save for Jungkook munching on his snacks in front of the tv that’s playing random vine compilations on Youtube as background noise. Come to think of it, the youngest boy was the only one who wasn’t really participating in the heated discussion you just single handedly ended. Or so you thought you had ended.

     “Well… There is one way we can prove who’s the best at hooking up,” Immediately, your eyes snap up to Jin who’s sitting on a different couch opposite of the loveseat Yoongi occupied. His face is twisted into an expression you can only describe as pure mischief. Oh god, that’s the same look he gets before he’s about to say one of his absolutely terrible dad jokes. 

     But what he says next is no joke. “You could be the one to decide for us, Y/N.”

     You don’t even get a chance to fully comprehend what he means by his suggestion before Jimin pipes in.

     “Hyung what do you mean? Y/N’s never hooked up with any of us before. How would she know who’s the best at it?” 

     A pang of guilt runs through you once again at Jimin’s words. You can feel Taehyung’s strong, questioning gaze on you. Had he thought you would have told Jimin by now? You did both agree to keep it a secret, but maybe he just assumed you would tell your best friend about it anyways. 

     But you would never betray that kind of trust. 

     All of that sticky situation aside, right now you just needed to figure out what the hell has gotten into Seokjin.

     “Yeah, Jin. Exactly, how would I know?” You inquire further.

     Jimin was partially correct about you having no clue how good the boys, minus Taehyung, were at.. Well, you know. 

    “See that’s the thing..” The tall, broad shouldered man speaks slowly, tip toeing around his point.

     You didn’t know what Jin was trying to suggest but nothing could prepare you mentally for the next few words that came out of his mouth. 

     “Now don’t kill me, but what if you did hook up with each of us? That way we could have someone in common to tell us which one of us is the best!”

     Jin’s suggestion makes Jungkook swivel around to face the group again now at full attention in this conversation, Yoongi sits up straight from his previous slouching position, coughing up his rum and coke, Namjoon looks up from his phone, and from what you can tell, the rest of the boys’ focus was already on Jin. Each of their looks seeming like they were just as every bit as flabbergasted at his suggestion as you were.  

     If you could look at yourself in a mirror right now, you’re sure your eyebrows would be past your forehead. What in the actual fuck could have persuaded Jin to suggest for you to pimp yourself out to your friends? You have no control over what he thinks in his own head, but to suggest, to your entire friend group that you should hook up with each of them? To settle a goddamn score? 

     You don’t know whether to applaud his courage or sock him in the face.

     Wait... Why didn’t you automatically get up and beat his ass for his stupid suggestion? Was it because your friends had yet to object to Jin’s idea? Or the fact that the idea didn’t immediately seem to repulse you.. or any of the boys for that matter?

     As you looked around the room, none of your friend’s eyes would meet your own. Each of them looking around at each other, but no one looking at you. Not even Taehyung, who has already had his tongue down your throat, dared to look you in the eye.

     Could this be any more awkward? What could they all be thinking right now? The silence in the room was only filled by those dumb vine compilations in the background. But those videos can only save the group for so long before they too go silent when the video ends.

     The silence had given you time to think though.

     There was no arguing with the fact that the boys you chose to spend your time with were all very, very attractive. Like stupidly attractive. Seriously, the whole group had really won the genetic lottery. 

     You had accepted the fact that you were attracted to all of them ever since the first day you had met them. But seeing as you had a boyfriend for the first couple of months of being their friend, you had only ever developed stronger attraction to Taehyung, thus resulting in the brief fling you had with him after you had broken up with said douchebag boyfriend from before.

     But you most certainly weren’t in love with any of them. 

     No, that would be too cliche right? 

     Sure, you’ve had a daydream or two about Jin’s broad shoulders, or Hoseok’s hip thrusts in the club. Hell, even about Yoongi’s hands and maybe even your best friend Jimin’s plush lips.

     But you couldn’t hook up with them just to judge their sexual abilities. For starters, what would happen to your friendship with them? Maybe the boys would be fine with each other after, but would you be able to go back to normal with them after this?

     Second, you were sure they didn’t even find you attractive. And you didn’t want them to feel obligated to do this just because they didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Which is ridiculous because you weren’t even the one who suggested this in the first place! Jin was, and he didn’t even consult the boys before doing so.

     You had to admit, by no means were you even close to being ugly, but from what you have seen, each of their own tastes in girls differed greatly from each other and certainly away from the way you looked.

     Your inner monologue had kept you so distracted that you almost missed the small voice from across the room.

     “I mean... I’m down as long as Y/N is okay with it?” You weren’t sure who it was going to be to break the silence, but you definitely did not think it was going to be Jungkook. 

     Your eyes immediately go to his, surprised to find that his big doe eyes were already on you.

     Did Jungkook, the most innocent of the boys, the one who didn’t even participate in the original argument over who was the best out of the seven of them, the one you jokingly referred to as your baby boy, just agree to hooking up with you?

     Someone needed to give you a swift pinch on the arm. You really must be dreaming here.

     You were going to stop this before it got out of hand, you really were. Truly, your intentions were nothing but to put an end to this ridiculous offer. 

     But then, one by one, each of the men in front of you chimed in to agree with Jungkook on the fact that, if you were willing, they’d be more than happy to hook up with you. 

     For “the cause”, of course. 

     The cause being who could give a girl (well now, you) the best time.

     Your apprehension must have been evident on your face because suddenly Namjoon is in front of you crouching on his knees. Ever the prince charming to come to your rescue.

     “Y/N, we can all say that we’d be ok with this, but you’re just as much a part of this as we all are. Frankly even more of a part of this, than any of us are,” Namjoon states, matter of factly. He always did have his head screwed on the sturdiest out of all of your friends. Always the one to help you make sense of everything when something got too overwhelming for you. 

     He continues. “So if you don’t want to do this, none of us would blame you. We can all go back to the next drinking game and get so shit-faced that we forget this ever happened.”

     As your brain tries to process that this situation is actually real, the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. “How could you all be agreeing to this? You would all really do it? I mean come on, none of you even think I’m pretty!”

     Figures. Out of everything in this situation, of course you would subconsciously be the most concerned about that. The most shallow of concerns. You hadn’t meant for that particular worry to be expressed by you, but now it was out and you couldn’t take it back.

     A chorus of different levels of scoffs, laughs, and a giggle from Jimin fill the air. “Are you blind Y/N? Our attraction to you should be at the bottom of your list of worries when it comes to this,” Hoseok says with a grin, his eyes running along your body, unashamed. 

     He had never done that before. At least to your knowledge. “Trust me when I say that we all find you to be incredibly hot,” He adds.

     Agreement from the rest of the room emphasizes his point and in a way, some of the tension is released from you knowing that at the very least, you don’t have to worry about them doing this out of obligation when they’re not actually attracted to you.

     “As much as I might- I mean we might want to try out this little experiment, you are first and foremost, our friend.” Namjoon has taken a hold of your hand now. His eyes filled with honesty and a reminder of the years of trust you’ve built with him. Well, with the whole group, actually. 

     Over the years you had truly formed a special bond with each and every one of them. So much so that you would fight to the death for any of the men in front of you. You had all been through a lot together. Heartbreak, loss, celebrations, birthdays, late night crying sessions (mostly coming from you on that one), and nothing has changed the way any of you had treated each other.

     “So if you told us, right now, to fuck off, we can just go back to our regularly scheduled kickback like I said before and drop the conversation entirely. Forget Jin even suggested it in the first place.”

     You find yourself unable to look away from him as Namjoon’s calming aura is the only thing keeping you from overthinking this whole situation too much. Well, him and the trace of alcohol still running through your system.

     “It’s your call, Y/N,” Namjoon’s low voice travels through your connected hands and straight down to your core. Woah, you had never felt that feeling with Namjoon before. 

     You found yourself chasing that feeling as it fades slowly within you, wanting more of that feeling. More of him...

     Alright, you had to make a decision sooner or later, and you could still feel everyone staring at you and Namjoon, eagerly awaiting your answer.

     You had to be fully honest with yourself. You were actually getting kind of, excited about trying this out? The prospect of actually getting to evaluate your friends on something so fragile and important to a man interested you beyond belief.

     You could make or break them in this friend group. Decide who would be the butt of every joke about getting any until who knows when. You didn’t know exactly what you were feeling about this, but you knew it wasn’t a bad feeling. No, not a bad feeling at all. 

     Most importantly though, you felt safe doing this with them. And of course, there was the fact that you got to hook up with seven insanely beautiful men.

     Oh, who were you kidding? There was no way you could pass up this opportunity.

     So you prepared yourself to give them the answer they had all been waiting for.

     “Ok, I’ll do it. But there’s going to have to be some rules,”  

---------------------------------------

A/N: More to come soon!!! Just the first chapter of my first OT7 series. Each member will get their own chapter, coming soon :)

[wallsinner]

Beep Beep Backseat! {Levi x Petra} (Porn!AU)

REQUESTED BY: Anon SET LOCATION: A car TALENT: Levi and Petra. Mike, off-screen (none sexual) DIRECTED: Levi Ackerman CATEGORIES: Parody, CCTV, Single Cam, Rimming NOTES: Third (and final) attempt at getting my characterization right. Third time lucky I hope. I would really appreciate some concrit/feedback on this piece if possible! 

“Are you fucking serious?!” Levi snarls into the phone that’s plugged into the lighter socket of the taxi he’s in. “Mike, when you asked me for help with work, I didn’t think you wanted me to drive your fucking cab for you!” Levi is livid, he’d only agreed to help out his friend (his stupid, stupidly tall friend) with work because Mike had offered to pay him for doing it. Except, Mike had been very, very careful not to let on exactly what he was asking Levi to do.

And thus, Levi had assumed that it was a job he’d done for Mike many, many times before – cleaning up after someone’s hurled in the back seat of the taxi, because with Mike’s stupidly strong sense of smell, he couldn’t handle cleaning it up himself.

Mike’s voice just laughs back at him from the other side of the phone and all that does is make Levi a little more irritated than he was five seconds ago. “I asked you for a favour, Levi. You said yes without asking a lot of questions so… I think you should suck it up. I can’t afford to loose out on a day’s pay to deal with… this shit.” The shit in question being the wedding of a friend that he hadn’t really seen for a few years, who had for some reason invited him to her wedding.

“You’re just going for the free food,” Levi spits at him. “It’s your own fault if you choose that over actually doing your job.”

“A free meal is a free meal,” Mike replies. “And anyway, they said they had rib-eye steak on the invite. Do you know how many years it’s been since I’ve had a good rib-eye steak someone else cooked for me.”

Levi chooses to ignore that dumb comment. “I don’t even know how to drive a fucking taxi.” He spits.

Mike snorts down the phone. “The same way you drive a car. And I’ve told you that I’ll pay you – I’ll split the days takings with you.”

“For fucks sakes!”

Mike only laughs again. “Okay, okay. All you have to do is drive around a bit. If anyone needs a lift, they will flag you down and tell you where they want to go and all you need to do is input it into the SatNav. Just… try not to be a rude dick, okay?” Mike pauses. “No, that’s not fair, you’re doing me a favour I can’t ask you to not be yourself… How about you just don’t speak unless you really, really need to. Anyway, I’ve gotta go people are about to start going into the church.” And with a what Levi is sure is a very sarcastic ‘peace out’ he hangs up.

And Levi sits there, hands on the wheel as he sits just outside the garage that Mike keeps his taxi in, by a main road cursing out the person he thought of as a friend, who asks for unreasonable favours. Thinking about how Mike sucks and how he’s going to ram this taxi up his arse the next time he sees him, when the door flies open and Levi whirls round in time to see a red headed woman open the door and clamber in. She doesn’t look in the best of moods.

“Are you working?” She says, quietly.

Remembering Mike’s words, even though fuck Mike, Levi just nods.

“Please.” She says. “Just drive, get me out of here.”

And so looks so desperate that Levi just does what she says, pulling onto the main road. The pair sit in silence for a while until Levi breaks up by clearing his throat “You know, it would kind of help if you told me where you want to go.”

“The station would be great.” She sighs dramatically and Levi gets the idea that she wants him to ask her what’s wrong, but he does the smart thing until he drives head on into some traffic and she continues doing it. “…Are you okay?” He questions, begrudgingly.

“I guess,” she sighs. “I’ve been… with this guy for a few weeks now and I thought we’d really hit it on. When I ran out we were um, you know, in bed together.” She goes a little red and Levi wants to roll his eyes at this fucking attractive grown ass woman. “And his mother walks in, starts screaming at him that he needs to get into his suit and long story short, it turns out that he’s actually getting married today and he just wanted one last fling before the big day.” The redhead bites her lip. “And then she looks at me and starts screaming more, so I ran for it and all I had time to grab was my dress and my phone. I ever left my…” her face pales at least three shades. “…my purse there.”

“What.” Levi says flatly, because he doesn’t really care about what she’s been saying before, yeah he feels for this gullible woman but he still needs to get paid. He ain’t giving out free rides.

“I uh,” she clears her throat and giggles nervously. “Don’t suppose you take Apple Pay do you?”

“Cash only.” He tells her. “Look, lady…”

“Petra.” She cuts him off.

“What?”

“My name,” she says. “Is Petra.”

“Okay Petra–”

She clears her throat. “You know, when a lady tells you her name the polite thing to do is tell her yours.”

“It’s Levi, look Petra–”

She cuts him off again, not by speaking this time. Oh no, from the back seat Petra lets her legs drift open and from the tuft of red hair he can see, her purse isn’t the only thing that he left at her ex-beau’s house. Oh no, her panties are still there too and from the little smirk that graces her face, she’s well aware of what she’d doing.

His mouth is suddenly dry, so he clears his throat again. “Look, Petra.” He starts.

“No, Levi, look.” She smirks at him, a devilish glint in her eye. “You see, because his Mom ran in I didn’t get to cum so I’m still feeling pretty turned on, you’re pretty fucking attractive and so I’m thinking that maybe I can pay you another way.” And he’s surprised at how bold this woman who was close to tears just minutes ago is feeling now.

And he’s about to tell her that no, she may be hot but that’s kind of really fucking inappropriate to ask someone you don’t know that but then he figures, hey she’s really hot and this is Mike of the inappropriate favours cab and he says.

“Why not?”

Her eyes light up and she claps her hands together. “Thank you!” and the look in her eyes isn’t just a look of relief – it’s one of lust. She clears her throat. “I know a cute little parking spot not far from here…” He voices waves with the offer and Levi swallows, but asks her if she knows any directions to put into his SatNav.

The rest of the journey is pretty much silent, but in the back-seat Petra shifts and wiggles and if she thinks he’s forgotten why exactly they’re going to the car park, she lets her legs drop open and makes his throat go dry all over again and that little red strip if hair.

And Levi’s surprised that he doesn’t get a speeding ticket, because he makes it to that goddamn car park in record time, thanking his lucky stars that it’s actually deserted, but he suspects that Petra knew that already when she suggested it. He parks up, in the furthest corner and sexily, right by the dumpster so that he can be sure that if anyone comes in, they’ll at least be able to hide and sort themselves out.

He can tall that Petra’s pretty Goddamn horny when he parks up, turning the ignition off and she can barely sit still in the backseat, almost bouncing in her anticipation. And that’s what spurs him on to take his sweet time as he gets out of the car, pausing to have a good stretch before he finally slides open the door and climbs inside the spacious backseat with a smirk.

She smirks straight back at him. “Hi Levi.”

“Hi Petra.”

And that’s all she needs to launch herself towards him, her mouth meeting his in a hungry kiss that he is more than happy to reciprocate. Not willing to waste anytime, her hand slides down to grope at his half-hard erection in his pants as he sucks down hard onto her bottom lip.

When air is a necessity, when they have to pull away because they need to be able to breathe, he gives her the option to get out of the car, to walk away. “Are you sure about this?”

She doesn’t respond, at least not with words. She instead, slides down onto her knees and finds the button of Levi’s pants, popping them open and pulling his cock out of his boxers. She looks up at him and wraps her lips around his throbbing length, gagging as he groans out at both the feeling and the look of her widened brown eyes as she takes him as deep as she can.

And Levi has to hand it to Petra, she’s pretty fucking good with her mouth, she has his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head in a matter of minutes with the way she changes her pressure, sucking down harder and taking  him deeper into her throat until her throat convulses around him with a gag.

He feels like he could sit there all day feeling her mouth, but she decides that she’s had enough and pulls away with a pop, drool dripping down her chin. She grins at him and before he can ask her what she’s doing, she’s tugging away at his pants, pulling them off completely. She tugs his legs, urging him to slide down

And that’s when her tongue meets his puckered asshole, lapping out against it and it’s a feeling unlike he’s ever felt before and if he thought his eyes were gonna roll back from her tongue on his cock, oh boy. Within seconds of her lapping her little pink tongue up and down him his whole body is bucking up in away he’s never done before. She and that perfect tongue have some sort of power that he never knew anyone could have over him.

He feels like he could cum all over himself just from that, but unfortunately she seems to think that too and she stops, licking her lips. “You like that?”

Levi swallows. And nods.

“Hmmm, maybe now you can do something for me?” She asks, fluttering her eyelashes.

“You want me to eat you out?”

“Nah,” Petra shakes her head, shimmying herself out of her clothes so that not only is that little pussy on display, a pair of perfect pert tits join. She settles herself on the backseat, her legs resting in his lap. “I’m already soaked. Maybe later. Just fuck me, okay?”

And Levi doesn’t need to be told twice, he shimmys himself away from her and she grins at him, spreading her legs wide. He kneels between them, lining himself up with her, that stripe of red hair acting like an arrow.

Her head falls back and she positively shrieks as he drives himself into her, hey, he said that she was soaked so there’s no need for him to go slow and she seems to have no problem with it, squealing loudly as her hips buck up against him. “Shit,” she curses. “You feel so fucking good.”

He wonders if it hurts her, the way she’s got her legs spread so wide like a gymnast, allowing him to drive into her as hard as he can. From the noises she’s making, even if it does hurt her then she fucking loves it so much. Those perky little tits thrust upwards as her back arches from the feel of Levi oh so deep inside of her. “Are you glad you got in this taxi today?” He teases.

“Fuck!” She curses again. “So… so… glad.” Tiny little pants pass her lips as she rocks her hips in unison with him, still not quite able to keep up with his speed but trying her hardest. She reaches out and grabs one of his hands, as if she wants to hold it, as if she’s getting weirdly romantic with him but oh no that’s not her priority.

Instead she presses his hand into her and arches her back again and Levi slides two fingers across her clitoris, teasing it slowly at first mismatched with his fast thrusts before he gives up and starts to rub her clit in little circles, so hard and fast that he’s surprised she’s not shrieking at him about rubbing her raw. Seems to do the trick for her though, those legs shaking next to him, her name leaving his lips so loud that her clit isn’t going to be the only thing hurting tomorrow. It comes as a surprise when he feels his lower stomach get covered in liquid.

Did she… just squirt in Mike’s cab?

All that does is make him more determined to find his own end, he’s not just thrusting into her now, oh no he’s ramming himself into her so fucking hard that he has to grab onto the yellow handle just above the door to keep himself steady, to keep his caedance.

His eyes screw up as he feels close and from the noises she’s making it seems like maybe she’s a little overstimulated so he pulls out of her, wraps a hand round his soaking cock and tugs himself just as hard as he was going inside of her until thick ribbons of white coat her chest.

And then he collapses back against the chair, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself down. She’s doing the same thing, her eyes closed, head pressed against the door of the car, covered in both his juice and her own, seeping into her butt from the spray that hit the seat instead of Levi.

He reaches over into the front of the car and opens the glove box, and sure enough Mike has a cloth in there. Probably for cleaning the windows down or something, certainly not for this. He hands it to Petra as she opens her eyes and she smiles gratefully, first reaching down between her legs to mop herself up before wiping his cum from her sweaty body.

“Hey,” Levi tells her, eyes watching as she collects those white ribbons onto the cloth. He makes a note to himself to throw it out instead of stashing it back in the glove box.

“Hmm?”

“I won’t take you to the station.” He clears his throat. “I’ll uh, I’ll take you wherever it is that you need to go.”