#rolling on the floor somebody give me motivation to draw this

[cow-tag]

Almost there from the princess and the frog but it's rise mikey after buying an old run down paint factory

kicking my feet thinking about it maybe shellshocked au comes into play when like miles goes to the old factory to paint on the walls before it was bought and hes there they day mikey buys it

i would like to note that mikey sees the graffiti and does nothing to get rid of it. he actually paints next to and around them then finishes it off with sealant so it wont chip away and miles watches from a ways away like "holy fuck this dude is cool hold on"

shenanigans ensue

[dysfunctionalcrab]

georgenotfound x reader [secret agent au]. can be read platonic or romantic idc

inspired by amazing artwork above by @milktea-grn

- note: this is to mostly to raise my motivation for writing since it’s been extremely low recently :/ especially so i can finish my series alt ending

warnings: guns and an explosion.

you aggressively rammed your shoulder into the door, hissing slightly at the pain that shot up and down your arm. “it’s locked,” you told him. you kept your eyes trained in both directions, anybody could catch you at any second and hold you at gunpoint.

“obviously,” you could practically hear his eye roll from beyond the walkie talkie. “there’s a keypad with a code,” george informed.

“then what’s the code?!” you asked desperately, using your finger to type in some random set of numbers, only for the keypad to light up red with the word ‘ERROR’

“give me a second to hack into the system!”

this time it was your turn to roll your eyes. you waited impatiently at the door as your heart beat faster and louder each second. you could faintly hear him type quickly on his laptop keyboard.

your head snapped to the left as your ears picked up on a sound from behind the walls

somebody was heading your way.

“hurry up,” you said through your teeth,

“it’s not as easy as it looks,”

“neither is standing outside an office that contains millions of stolen property and confidential information while a man with a gun is about to approach you, but you don’t see me complaining about it,”

it went silent for another minute, your leg was jolting up and down anxiously, what the fuck was taking him so long?

“hey!”

you turned around to see a man with a mask and full black bodysuit, he had a weapon attached to the belt that was strapped to his chest. you had no time to inspect him any further since he was running right towards you

“GEORGE HURRY UP!” you screamed into the device

“six, three, five, double nine, eight,” he screamed back, breathless from the pressure.

6 3 5 9 9 8

you typed in the combination as quickly as you could. thankfully and finally, you yanked the door open, kicking it back into the bodyguard's face as he just arrived at the door so it would lock once again. you rushed to the desk, scavenging the drawers for the folder you needed, you almost tore the desk apart. you smiled to yourself when you came across a draw with multiple different folders; a green one, a red one, a yellow one. but there was no blue.

you cursed under your breath as there was no sign of it, you could hear pounding against the door and there was no way you would find it without the bodyguards breaking in first.

“george, i can't find it,” you whispered

“what do you mean you can’t find it?”

“the blue folder,” you continued to tear the office apart from desk to shelves. it must’ve been misplaced somewhere else and you had to find it now

“it’s purple,”

you froze as if your limbs just stopped working.

“what?”

“it’s purple, it just looked blue to me.”

you had no time to yell at him for his idiocy no matter how much you wanted to. you leaped for the drawer you had previously opened, pulling out a purple folder and shoving it under your vest.

just in time. the door broke open, collapsing to the floor as a group of men appeared from behind it. your eyes widened as they began to shoot immediately, you grabbed a table lamp that was sitting on the desk, launching it towards a window as hard as you could.

pieces of shattered glass fell all over the floor, you turned back to give them a small smile, before holding your breath and jumping out through the hole you had created with the broken glass

“you can blow it up now,” you demanded.

the next thing you knew, the following second was the sound of a giant explosion that ripped through the air, you could feel the heat from the flames that erupted press against your body as you landed onto the floor without any harm, the folder was safely tucked away. you looked back around with a smirk to watch the building shatter into millions of ashes and pieces of shrapnel, leaving nothing but a burning pile.

“are you okay?” you suddenly heard george’s voice arise from nowhere.

you wiped your sweaty forehead with the back of your palm. “yeah,” you responded, your mouth curled up into a small grin as you heard him give out a sigh of relief. “you could’ve cost us the whole mission though!”

“i just forgot to correct myself earlier, it looked blue to me,”

“whatever.”

taglist @inniterhq @basilly @siriushxney @tinyegg @dreamiewrites @forutheworld @ttakinou @cr0wbonezz-wr1ting-inc @sabinanotfound @esylwen @cherios @yamturds @emira-a @joyfullymulti @wilczachannn @technosoot @quivvyintheclouds @honknap @mitzimania @willowsdemise@simonsbluee @sunnynapp

[mypoisonedvine]

Can u pls write something like dark!reader x steve rogers high school AU , where R is rich spoil brat & she always had a crush on steve but she always bully him by calling him skinny and all and Then yrs later, time changes her family discarded her from will and she becomes poor and need job, got hired for PA by dark ceo!steve rogers who she bullied her all school lifee😈😈

okay this is a lot for a headcanon but I don’t have time to do a whole oneshot BUT I also really like it so we’re gonna just make a longass headcanon here we gooooo

warnings for heavy dub con, choking, slapping, degradation (by steve), bullying (by the reader), abortion mention, brief mention of/implied assault.

“heyo pipsqueak” you called out to get steve’s attention, laughing when he frowned.  “looks like you grew a whole inch over summer, be sure to have your mom draw a line in pencil on the doorframe.”

he just rolled his eyes and got back to chatting with his friend.  not friends, friend, cause he only had one: bucky, who snarled at you as well.

“pick on someone your own size, if you can find somebody with as big a head as you,” bucky shot back, making you scoff.

“you know, it’s a shame you hang out with this deformed freak, you could’ve been popular.  you’ve got the looks for it.”

“I’d rather keep my brains, thanks,” bucky explained as you walked away with your posse of fellow popular kids.

you didn’t used to be so mean to steve.  it was sort of a comedy of errors, really.  you two had been friends in elementary school-- you, him, and bucky were the rambunctious trio up until middle school.  

things change for boys and girls in middle school.  guys just get along with each other and don’t think about it much.  girls, though... girls need to be sharp.  it’s eat or be eaten.  and you wanted to eat.

you were lucky that you developed early.  it meant that girls respected you and boys feared you-- not just for your attractive features but for the fact that you loomed a foot over most of them.

you started to take advantage of it.  and by the time you realized you had feelings for your best friend steve, it was already too late-- he was at the bottom of the food chain and you were at the top.  

you told your new girl friends that you wanted to take steve to the sadie hawkins.  they laughed at you.  for a moment, you felt what it was like to be outcast and you never wanted to feel it again.  so, you told steve and bucky that you’d grown apart.  and you were happy to just be former friends...

it was steve that started it.  he called you out.  he told you that you were nothing like who he used to know-- you had become vapid and cold and narcissistic.

“you’re so busy worrying about what other people think, you never take the time to think for yourself.”  that was what he said.  and it fucking hurt.

“saw you talking to your boyfriend steve the dweeb,” your friend tanya announced at lunch just a few minutes after that conversation.  and you were angry, and hurt, and truly friendless despite being surrounded by other popular girls.  so you said some things you could never take back.

“steve?  as if.  did you know he still sleeps with a security blanket?  and he has his friend bucky fight for him every week cause if he took a punch he’d crumble to dust?”

and so, mortal enemies were formed.  it only got worse in high school, as you fought to secure your title at the top while steve and bucky’s presence filled your heart with guilt and your gut with anger.

if only you’d known how quickly you could fall from your high horse.

it started when you dated tanya’s ex, brock.  she was made so she spread a rumor that you would fuck any guy on the football team, even all of them at once.

apparently, a lot of people believed it since tanya had been your sidekick since 6th grade.

two football players believed it.  and when you wouldn’t follow through on it, you got yourself a black eye.

that meant you missed school for a week because you couldn’t possibly show up looking like that.  tanya told everyone it was because you got grounded and sent away to church camp after your parents caught you in bed with one of the neighbors.  so now your reputation was ‘sleeps with football players and old men.’

only brock had been there for you.... but it turned out he had motives of his own.  you had originally planned to wait until college, but brock was clearly wanting something in return for putting up with dating pariah #1... so you let him take your virginity.

the condom broke.  when you dashed to the trash can to hurl in the middle of history class, you knew something was wrong.  (and lost that many more social points in the process.)

brock dumped you the second he found out you were pregnant.  didn’t even help you pay for the abortion.  he got back together with tanya and told her the real reason for your ‘medical absence’.  and that was the last straw for the former homecoming queen.

the humiliation drove you to some.... poor choices, for the next few years.  you tried not to think about them now, but it was hard not to when their consequences were staring you right in the face: no money, no job, nearly homeless, and desperate.

over a hundred job applications later, only one had called you back and scheduled an interview.  and you only needed one.

so there you were, waiting in the chilly lobby area while the receptionist typed away and chomped her gum, tapping your toes and glancing out the window occasionally.

you were surprised when you had been told your interview would be on the 51st floor.  you sort of assumed it would just be some random manager interviewing you, not somebody important enough to have a waiting room like this, or a view like this.

when a man stepped out from the nearby hallway, your eyes went wide.  he was tall, and handsome, and obviously muscular underneath the exquisite suit.  you suddenly felt underdressed in your hand-me-down business clothes.

then he called your name.  and you realized he was going to interview you.

you stood up and nodded.  “you can follow me to my office,” he instructed with a smile, leading you down the hall to the corner office.  you were in awe of the grandiosity of it all.  you were dumbfounded when you saw CEO on the door.

“there must have been a mistake,” you explained as he shut the door behind you.  “I... I’m just interviewing for an entry-level position.”

“no, there’s no mistake,” he shook his head, “I have you exactly where I want you.  take a seat.”

he circled his desk and sat on the other side of it, resting his elbows on the desk and giving you an oddly smug smile.  an awkward silence was finally broken when he realized, “you must not remember me.”

“I... have we met?” 

“I don’t blame you, I look pretty different,” he shrugged.  “I must’ve grown a whole inch this summer.”

you gave him a confused look before realization dawned on you, along with shame, and fear.

“oh... oh my god, Steve?!” you squawked.  he just grinned.  “you look... you look...”

“taller?”

sexy.

“you look great!” you said aloud instead.

“yeah,” he agreed, “wish I could say the same for you.”

you swallowed dryly.  “so that’s what you want,” you sighed, “to get back at me.  I understand.  I deserve it...”

“I don’t want revenge,” he denied.  “I’m just sorry to see you haven’t been... thriving, since high school.  your job history--” he scanned your resume briefly-- “well, you don’t have one.  have you been slumming it all this time?”

“without my parents’ money?  yeah,” you admitted.  

“surprised you applied here, instead of turning tricks on 5th and Columbus.”

your back straightened and your eyes went wide at that comment.

“I mean, you’re already dressed for it,” he smirked.

you stood up and crossed your arms.  “if you’re just going to insult me, then I’ll leave now.  I’m sorry for everything I did to you, steve,” you announced, voice shaky with oncoming tears.

“can you really afford to leave?” he pressed.  “if you have a chance at a job?”

that, unfortunately, got your attention.  “you... you might actually offer me something?”

“I will offer you something,” he corrected, “if you just sit down and listen.”

you relented, returning to your seat.  you could stand a lot more insults if there was money on the line.

“to be honest, there’s no way I can hire you for the position you applied for,” he sighed.  “you’re just underqualified.  but I think I can create a position for you.”

you liked the sound of that.  “what kind of position?”

“well, that’s tricky, seeing as you don’t have any skills,” he frowned, “except one.  so that’s the one I plan on using.”

the look in his eyes made it all too clear what he was referring to, but as you shrunk into the leather chair he went ahead and clarified.

“I’ll pay you whatever salary you saw in the ad.  but you won’t be doing data analysis or office management or anything like that.  all you’ll be doing is spreading your legs for me whenever I fucking want.”

fear shot up your spine; his eyes were devouring you, pinning you to the chair, and you tried to process that.  “I--”

“before you say anything,” he interrupted immediately, “let’s just be perfectly clear that this might be your only shot at a real job.  what I’m offering has better pay than stripping, and better benefits than hooking.  and unless you have any education or experience I don’t know about, you’re totally fucked.”

“seems like I’m fucked either way,” you mumbled, making him laugh.

“see, you’ve still got that sharp tongue,” he grinned.  “can’t wait to put it to better use.”

maybe it was just desperation for cash.  maybe it was because he was good-looking and you could do a lot worse.  maybe it was because, on some level, you felt like you deserved his punishment after how horribly you’d treated him.

“I’ll do it,” you sighed.  “when do I start?”

he stood up and reached across the desk to grab your neck, glaring at you.  “right now.”

his free hand was already fumbling with his belt, the one on your throat guiding you downwards.  “on your knees,” he instructed, and you slipped out of the chair and onto the floor.

he let go of your neck and you figured he was going to come to you, but instead he stood still and demanded: “crawl.”

debasing as it was, you crawled on your knees to his side of the desk, and he laughed at you bitterly.  when you reached his feet and popped back up, you gasped at the sight of his hard cock right in front of your face. it was bigger than your face.  and it was dripping precum.

“don’t get so bug-eyed, you can handle it,” he grinned.  “if your mouth’s as big as I remember...”

you didn’t want to hear any more.  you just wanted to get this over with, so you quickly took his head between your lips and started to suck.  you were shocked when he slapped you, hard enough to knock his length from your mouth and to make you reach up and clutch your stinging cheek.

“fucking whore,” he grimaced, “did I say you could put it in your mouth?  god, you’re so fucking desperate.  just open your fucking mouth and I’ll show you what I want, okay?”

you nodded and stammered an apology, looking up at him with watery eyes and an open mouth.  he swiped the latest drop of precum on your tongue before gliding his cock over it, grabbing your hair to keep you steady as he pushed himself to the back of your throat.

“fuck, that’s better,” he sighed.  “so much better when you just do what you’re told.  I remember how you used to be so cruel with this mouth.  now you’re being so welcoming...”

you just sat there and let him use your mouth, trying not to gag when he hit your throat.

“look up at me,” he instructed, “yeah, that’s it.  can’t have you forgetting who’s doing this to you, now can we?”

that went on for a bit longer until mascara-stained tears streaked your face, which he seemed rather proud of.

“damn, wouldn’t mind having you swallow my come right now,” he admitted, “but I have bigger plans.  get up, bend over my desk.”

you coughed briefly when he pulled out, but did as you were told.  he instantly yanked your skirt up over your ass and spanked you several times roughly, making you sob and whine.

“wanna see this ass all bruised up in the shape of my hand,” he explained.  “so we can both remember how hard I fucked you.”

he tore your panties like they were paper, chuckling when he found you already wet.

“dripping already, just from choking on my cock?  poor baby...”

you spread your legs slightly, though you were sure nothing was going to adequately prepare you for his size.

“you figured out how to use birth control since graduating, right?” he asked, and you nodded quickly.  “good.  cause I’m not using a condom,” he continued as he let his cock glide over your folds, groaning slightly, “and there’s no way in hell I’m pulling out.”

he pushed forward in one brutal stroke, making you cry out loudly.  you really hoped these rooms were mostly soundproof.

“shit, you’re tight,” he hissed, already pulling back and thrusting back in.  “clearly you recovered from your years of slutting it up in high school.”

“that-- that wasn’t true,” you defended.

“oh, just shut up,” he growled.

he fucked you fast and deep, his hips pushing yours into the edge of his desk with each thrust.  his hands pinned you down at your shoulders, another reminder that you were entirely at his mercy.

“fuck, this is just what you needed... somebody to put you in your place.  makes sense that it should be me, since you hated me so much.”

“I didn’t h-hate you,” you hiccuped. 

“yeah, you wanted me, didn’t you?”

“always,” you admitted.

“wanted my fat fuckin’ cock to tear up your pussy?  is that it?”

“yes,” you moaned, “yes, steve, wanted to be yours.”

“even when I was skinny and short?”

“even when you hated me,” you added.

he growled slightly and you felt your walls tighten around him suddenly.  he chuckled, clearly aware that you were enjoying this.

“you want more, baby?  want me to fuck you harder?”

“whatever you want,” you answered instead.  “just use me however you want.”

he moaned and leaned down to cage your body in with his.  “fuck, baby... you’re taking this better than I thought you would.  such a good girl for me, huh?  such a good little slut.  want me to use you, baby?  take all my anger out on you?”

“yes,” you whispered, sobbing when he began to fuck you more brutally than you thought possible.  but it felt good.  so good that your legs were shaking, so good that you felt even better when he tugged your hair.

“yeah, gonna come on my cock, aren’t you?” 

you nodded and bit your lip.

“m’ close too,” he admitted, “you’re gonna be so full of my come, it’s gonna be dripping down your legs when you walk out of here...”

your orgasm made your body shake and your eyes roll back.

“fuck, I can feel you coming,” he groaned, “fuck, just like that-- fuck!”

you felt his warmth fill you as his cock flexed against your walls.  you were busy trying to catch your breath when he slumped down on top of you and pushed the air from your lungs.

“damn... didn’t think I was gonna come that fast,” he sighed.  “see what you do to me?  fuck, I knew this was a good idea.”

sure, it felt good, but you were sure he was only going to get rougher and meaner the longer this went on.  you couldn’t imagine how you were going to get out of here without somebody noticing your wrinkled clothes, messed-up hair and, as he’d pointed out himself, come all over your thighs.

“guess I’ll see you at 8am tomorrow, huh?” he chuckled, giving you an unexpected peck on the cheek.  you couldn’t answer, though, interrupted by the phone on his desk ringing.  “oh, sorry, gotta get this.”

he reached for the phone and picked it up, bringing to his ear all without pulling out of you or even lifting his body from on top of yours.

“bucky, hey,” steve grinned as he spoke into the phone, looking down at you and stroking your hair, “you’re not gonna believe who I ran into today...”

[mariamermaid]

F.R.I.E.N.D.S

Young Sirius Black x fem Potter!Reader

Summary:  When puberty suddenly hits you and your brother´s best friend realizes his interest in you

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: drinking underaged, mentions of smoking, swearing

A/N: Inspired by Anne-Marie´s song, but not really following the lyrics

 It happened from your summer break to your fifth year in Hogwarts, for your brother James it was his sixth year.

It was, what you would call the perfect summer; You had spent it with your friend Sarah in Spain, her family owned a stunning little cottage near Barcelona. The golden beach and the hot sun brought you back with a stunning tan and even a few freckles decorated your face now. Due to many trips to the mountains and the regular exercise of swimming, playing beachball and evenings dancing on the streets beneath moonlight, you had toned up and lost some body fat. A late, maybe even a drunk decision to get a new haircut and the obsessive amount of the new clothes, that completely reinvented your sense of fashion.

The time abroad away from your family felt like a gasp of freedom to you. You loved your parents and even your brother James, if he wasn´t annoying you, dearly, but that summer you felt grown-up and independent. You found new assets, hobbies, interests and confidence to further follow them. You hadn´t planned it, but your glow up transformation was born.

You came back just a few days before school was starting and somehow, you even looked forward to it. A new found motivation to become the best version of yourself pushed you to new limits. Not even the fact that Sirius Black had moved in with your family, could shatter your positive attitude.

 “Mom, where did Dad put my luggage, I brought a few souvenirs I wanted to give you!”, you asked while looking through your backpack for a hair tie. Your mother, who had already settled back in the kitchen, her natural habitat, to get some iced tea, shrugged.

“I don´t know, darling, didn´t he put them in your room already?”

Nevertheless, it felt good to be home again.

Your father entered the dining and kitchen area from outside, a suitcase of yours in each of his hands. Just as he was about to call your brother for help, James jumped down the staircase and patted your father on the shoulder. “In a second, dad?”

James, who always had been taller than you, eyed your astonished. “Who is that girl in our home? Is that even my sister anymore?” You chuckled as he gave you a quick hug.

“Shut up James, you´re just jealous that you´re still pale like a snow owl!”

While the two of you started your casual process of sibling bickering, Sirius carefully stepped down the stairs as well. From the back, he observed your figure.

All those years, you had been James´s sister or the younger Potter, but for the first time, you didn´t perish next to James. Actually, you overshone him. James, who was athletic due to the Quidditch practice, still had a crooked and flabby posture. It didn´t help that he was used to swagger through the halls of Hogwarts. But you? You remained with your head held high, your shoulders relaxed and your tanned skin freshly glowing.

“Y/n.”

You turned to find Sirius starring at you; you couldn´t point his look, but you gave him a polite, regardless smile. “Sirius”, you greeted him. Your voice wasn´t rude or cold, still it didn´t match the voice you´d use to talk to James. “Or should I call you brother number two?”

A painfully small grin was brought to his lips. Over the course of years, the two of you barely exchanged words. But yet, you were a constant part of his life. Yes, he had spent many Christmas holidays with your family. He most definitely spent more time with James than you. You were his best friend’s sister, right?

But why did it suddenly bother him, that you called him brother?

“Y/n, Sirius is staying in the guest room from now on. We didn´t use the room anyway, did we?”

The Potter residency had an altogether combined number of four floors; the basement with storage and washing area. The main floor with kitchen, dining and living room, leading to the outdoor terrace and garden and your parent´s bedroom. The second floor with James´s bedroom, your father´s study room and of course, the guest bedroom, which now belonged to Sirius. Last but not least the attic, which was renovated to your room. A point which had caused James and you to argue for several years; the attic was an amazing room and much larger than other bedrooms in the house. James lost the argument due to very weak points. To quote your mother, James spent more time outside doing mischief than actually staying in his room.

You were more relieved than ever to have not only your own room, but basically your own floor. You didn´t mind Sirius, but you needed your space and you didn´t wanted to be involved with their pranks.

“James, help me with my suitcase, will you?” You exclaimed, but your brother already made his way to the kitchen. By his moving pattern, you knew he was up to no good.

“Mom, don´t you and Dad usually spent the weekend at Cindy´s?” You couldn´t help but rolling your eyes at his comment. The last weekend before school begins; James´s house party.

Your parents knew he´d like to bring friends over at that weekend, they didn´t know about half of the school coming and the amount of beer and fire whisky.

“James?” You sighed, but your brother was pursuing his own goals.

“I´ll help you”, Sirius suddenly spoke up and hurried next to you. He took the suitcases without much effort and immediately started carrying them upstairs. On the stairs, you passed the Black boy to open the door to your room for him. Sirius noticed your swift movement and was reminded of James playing Quidditch. Clearly you both inherited that gene. Sirius put down the luggage and couldn´t help but eye your room with growing eyes. The high wooden ceiling, which was decorated with fairy lights and pictures and painting on the walls. You had a secret talent to be good at drawing and detailed sketches of plants, you had learned about in school, hung over your desk. Pictures of you and James at the age of toddlers and family portraits from Christmas. In one of them was even Sirius. You realized how he didn´t leave your room and eyed him warry as he starred at the pictures.

“I´ve never been to your room.”

“Don´t get used to it.” You heaved your suitcase up on your bed to start the sorting out process and Sirius turned away from the pictures, raising his eyebrow. “It´s my room.”

His eyes glided over the silk sheets of your bed and he couldn´t help but wonder, how you looked when waking up in the morning by rays of sunshine falling through the windows. Have you watched him playing Quidditch with James from those windows? Ever so slightly he shook his head to get rid of that thought. You´re James´s sister, he reminded himself.

There weren´t really rumors about you in school, unlike James´s reputation. But there was one thing Sirius knew all too well; you were not to mess with. What your brother inherited in talent, was put together with an almost deadly preciseness. He saw you battling a student in his year once, you won without even breaking a sweat.

“The new hair suits you”, he suddenly added before leaving your room and closing the door behind him. Your mother had pin pointed every single detail that had changed about you, but you´d never guessed that heartbreaker Sirius Black would comment on it…

 James Potter was awfully good at talking people into doing what he desired. And James Potter desired a more memorable house party each year, thanks his ego. Previously, you had spent the weekend at Sarah´s, but after an entire summer, you were left home as well. Against your own anticipation, you didn´t mind. Was it the fact, that you had partied and danced more the entire summer than anyone could imagine? Maybe.

“Y/n, you look out for James, don´t let him do stupid things!” Like a house party? Lingered on your tongue, but you smiled bitter sweet. “It´s hard to look out for somebody as stupid as James.”

Your mother wrinkled her eyebrows, but your dad let out a laughing grunt. “They´ll be fine”, he reassured your mother, before kissing you on top of your head and heading out.

“It´s hard to look out for somebody as stupid as James”, James voice filled the air while he imitated you. He and Sirius came down to the living room, a box of somewhat decorations in their hands.

James was everything but stupid, even though there were times, where you questioned his IQ. He took out old wine bottles with candles in them and packed away your mom´s favorite cutlery and vase. One thing less to worry.

“Tell me, Y/n, do the Spain kiss good?” He continued to mock you.

“Better than the British”, you answered sweetly. A sour taste spread in Sirius mouth, but James pressed his jaw together. He hadn´t expected the answer from you, his sweet innocent little sister.

“Should I worry about you tonight?” He asked a little more serious now, but you ruffled through his precious locks. “Why? Afraid I´ll crash your party?”

“Who are you and what have you done to my baby sister?” He yelled after you, while you left the room to go upstairs, chuckling.

The marauders were first to arrive; Moony, Wormtail and obviously Padfoot and Prongs himself. Remus also brought Lily Evans, your brother´s secret, not so secretly girlfriend. You watched as they arrived one by one from the window at your desk. The golden boy and his gang, all complete.

The past few days, you had taken your time to do whatever you pleased. Your mother didn´t force any of you to have breakfast or lunch together, due to the fact that you all had different sleeping patterns. You had spent it at your desk, getting ready for school, journaling about your holidays, sorting out pictures and old clothes. In the garden helping your mother put together bouquets of flowers or riding your bike around your favorite trails and sceneries. Really you hadn´t seen much of your brother or Sirius.

You took your time getting ready, the Marauder´s already starting off with drinking. You had invited Sarah and when you saw her and her older sister, who was in James´s year, arriving, you finally made your way downstairs. James, Sirius and Remus were grouped around the kitchen aisle, debating sport games with three more guys from Gryffindor. Matt Atkins, Hogwarts second bad boy after Sirius, eyes suddenly grew big as he ran dry. His remarkably sharp jaw fell down and his mouth open. “Who is she?”

You casually strolled down the stairs, even wearing some strapped heels together with a new dress from Spain. A rather hard punch let Matt yelp, James annoyed eyes bringing him to his knees. “That´s my sister”, he muttered with his teeth grinding.

The golden boy was about to be pushed from his throne by his own sister.

You gave the group of boys a knowing smirk before welcoming Sarah, who was glowing with the same tan as you. “Seems like Spain has been muy beneficioso per nos.”

Your laughter filled the air, as not only the marauder but also several other male creatures watched the two of you chat. “How´s Gabriel?” You asked her instead and Sarah blushed. Her apparent summer fling had made it clear, that his feelings were a little stronger than just a fling.

“He wrote me a letter with a poem”, she blushed. Before continuing the topic, a boy joined the two of you. “Ladies, can I get you something to drink?”

James was quick to appear next to you, a sudden wave of protectiveness had overcome him. “She´s my sister and she doesn´t drink.”

“Yes, yes she does.”

Lily, who had joined her boyfriend, snickered at your response. James watched you wide eyed, as did the boy, walking to the kitchen with Sarah after dropping the comment; “Not from you though.”

Sirius, who´s blood alcohol level was already high enough, started smirking as you approached. The feelings he had pushed back and buried, arose in him.

“Y/n, care for a drink?” “Yes, Black, I do.”

As he fished two cups for you and Sarah, the group starred at you. Matt Atkins was first to speak up again. His initial shock about Sirius approaching you, was put back after he remembered that he lived with you and James now. Remus and Peter watched the scene, secretly exchanging a bet of how quickly you would decline Atkins.

“So, Y/n, tell me how was Spain?”

You leaned on the counter top, a trick that had earned you free drinks in bars before, and smiled.

“Hot.”

Sirius passed you the cups and you nodded thanking. His senses tingled, an explosion rushing through his veins. He wasn´t to construe it the past few days, but drunk words are sober thoughts and Sirius´s attraction towards you, grew with each second. Peter slid the money to Remus, Matt Atkins had no chance.

The party continued into the evening and quickly into the night. You were sure that at least 50 people were there, with a few outside maybe more. James, who didn´t enjoy himself as much as he´d like to, was also too stubborn to admit it. You didn´t like how he watched, almost babysitted you, lingering ready to scare away any potential boy flirting. It was until Lily finally swept in and took his mind off you.

Outside remained a small bonfire, which was coming to an end, but you still decided to catch some fresh air. You had more cups than your brother knew about, but he was kissing Lily in the corner and didn´t realize your slight staggering.

James wasn´t stupid, but stupid enough to completely miss the fact that his own best friend was falling in love with you. And he was following you outside.

“Y/n Potter, you surprise me.” Sirius voice was low and a little rough, which was explained as he pulled out a cigarette. You took another sip of who knew what mixture and smiled innocently at him. “Why´s that, Black?”

You never called him Black before, until this summer. An unconscious defense mechanism.

It had taken Sirius five days after your initial arrival to realize that he´d liked you way more than he should and now there was no turning back. He was acting on pure instinct now and so did you. But your instinct told you, that Sirius Black was a heartbreaker.

“What do want, Black?” You asked whispering as he slowly came closer, his hand reaching up to tuck back strands of your hair. This was dangerous, but you liked playing with fire. “You.”

Your laugh was bitter.

“We're nothing more than friends. You're not my lover, more like a brother. I´ve known you since we were like ten.”

You left him behind in the approaching cold from the night and the dying fire. Sirius cursed at himself and ruffled through his hand. “Fuck!”

How could he have been so stupid? You were his best friend´s sister! You were James´s sister! Of course, you didn´t see him in any romantic way and now he not only embarrassed himself to the bone, but probably ruined any kind of friendship with you. He threw the leftover cigarette into the fire, there was only one solution left; alcohol.

 Don't mess it up, talking that shit

Only gonna push me away, that's it!

When you say you love me, that make me crazy

Here we go again

 Sirius Black was astonishing good in hiding feelings and even better at drowning them. At least for the next hour or so. That was until the music box suddenly played a Spanish song with a typical reggae beat and laughing, you pulled Sarah onto the dancefloor in the middle of the living room. Oh, how you had learned to swing your hips at the rhythm.

James was burning in fury and he wanted to punch every single pair of eyes laying on your figure. Luckily, he couldn´t and much too quick for your dismay, the song ended. The room echoed in applause and howlers, and giggling you left the stage with Sarah. The two of you were used to being drunk together and lazily you found your seat on the bathroom floor.

“James isss going to kill youuuu”, Sarah laughed as she not so gracefully, kneeled onto the floor. It didn´t help that after you sat down at the brim of the bathtub, fell over crackling.

“Oh my god!” Sarah suddenly exclaimed startled. You leaned forward surprised, legs still hanging over the brim. “What?”

“We don´t have anything to drink anymoreeee! I´ll be back in a second, just stay here!”

You leaned back, head against the wall, softly humming in response. “I don´t even think I´m able to leave, I´ll wait!” For a few seconds, you closed your eyes; enjoying the buzz of the liquor and the music in the background. You heard the door open and close again.

“Merlin Sarah, you´re flying when it comes to-.“ It wasn´t Sarah, it was Sirius. You eyed him with furrowed brows. “Did you at least get me something to drink?”

He had a cup in his hands and eyed it, pondering to give it to you, or drink it himself. But you leaned forward, grabbing his arm and then snatching the drink from his fingers. He found himself starring into your big eyes, not wanting to look away.

“Don´t you have enough boys outside to bring you drinks?” He asked and you shrugged while taking a big sip. “But you´re here, aren´t you?” The sentence made his heart beat quicker.

“Don't go look at me with that look in your eye”, you then added and avoided his glance again.

“Why not?”

“You know why, but apparently you really ain't going away without a fight.”

He suddenly turned to you, pushing one of his hands against the wall, the other one trailing down to your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin and you felt goosebumps crawling down your spin. He was leaning, yes hovering above you and his eyes wandered back and forth from your eyes to your lips. Stubbornly, you looked up to him.

“You can't be reasoned with, I'm done being polite. Haven't I made it obvious?” You pushed yourself a little up from the bathtub, your face only inches away. But the look on your face was stern and certain. “Haven't I made it clear? Want me to spell it out for you?

F-R-I-E-N-D-S”

Sarah pushed open the door and rolled her eyes, she had obviously noticed the boy´s attention towards you. “Back off, Black.”

Sirius was caught off guard by her, which gave you space and time to pull yourself out of the tub, leaving him sitting there.

 The night only slowly continued after your clashing in the bathroom. Remus watched his friend with plaintive eyes. He had realized the silence and even more oblivious, his sad stares into your direction. It wasn´t hard to guess really, but he understood his reticent mood. You were his best friends’ little sister and he knew, James would kill for you. If anyone were to break your heart and if that anyone was Sirius, the friendship could be over.

On the other hand, there was one thing Remus knew, Sirius had never acted like this around a girl.

“You shouldn’t give up yet.” Sirius glanced back at him and rolled his eyes.

“She´s sees me as a friend, I´m like a brother to her.”

“You don´t dance like this in front of your friend. Y/n and James both know how to get the things they want. It´s probably a family disorder”, Remus chuckled. But he became stern again, laying a hand on his friend´s back. “She´s playing with you, you know it. And I have to admit, she plays better than you, Padfoot. You liked this girl way before, before the summer, before she started flirting with you today.”

“I didn´t-“

“Yes, you did. Or why did you stress out about getting her a Christmas and birthday gift every year since knowing James? Why did it bother both you and James, about Kevin making that remark last year? You broke his nose, in case you forgot.”

Remus was right, he was way too often for Sirius taste. He liked you more than a friend from the second he laid eyes on you. He swore himself to protect you, but now he was the endangerment of hurting you and it scared him.

People left the party; it was past 3.a.m. and Lily started putting away empty cups. He knew Sarah would sleep at the Potter house tonight and just in second, he caught sight of you carrying a blanket upstairs. “You´re the best, Moony and I hate you for it.”

He hurried up the stairs and caught you just in front of your room.

“Y/n, wait!”

You sighed heavily. “Sirius, I´m tired and Sarah´s laying on my bathroom floor throwing up.”

He tried to remember every formal etiquette ever taught to him while establishing and taking together his bravery. Hundreds, yes thousands of pranks and yet, he never had been this nervous. You eyed him wary. “Have you got no shame? You looking insane. Here we go again.”

“I´m sorry for acting like a dick.”

The apology took you a step back, surprised.

“Don't go look at me with that look in your eye.”

His tongue brushed against his lip. “Why not, Y/n? Afraid to admit it?”

“For Merlin´s Sake, get that shit inside your head, Sirius! We´re just friends.”

His hand lingered on the wall to your back. It was the second time he had encircled you, but this time around, you didn´t see an outlet. Maybe you didn´t want one either. You felt his breath tingling against your skin and against your anticipation, the scene felt intimate and fragile to you.

“I like you, Y/n. I´ve liked you for a while now and I suppressed it. You´re right, I´m heartbreaker, and I knew, if I was to break yours, I wouldn´t be able to live with myself.”

You felt your shaky breathing, the dim light coming from downstairs barely gave enough away.

“You made it obvious. You made it very clear. But I wanted- needed you to know this; you were and never will be just a friend to me.” He gulped, lowering his glance.

“And I´m sorry, if that´s going to push you away.”

You dropped the blanket to the ground, throwing your hands around his neck and pulling him down. The kiss was passionate, but dripping like honey; sweet and slowly. His hands grabbed your waist and you inhaled his deep musky scent.

You leaned away from him with caution, sighing. “Sarah´s vomiting and I´m making out, I´m a terrible friend.” Sirius chuckled lowly, his nose brushing against yours again.

“I´m glad we´re more than friends then.”

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•The Grey Area•

Part One: •Fallen Angel•

Summary: You're Enji Todoroki's prized possession, his Angel. Given this name because of your pure, white wings. Your quirk is truly unique, until you come face to face with Enji's new friend and hit man, Hawks. His presence shakes you, his abilities intimidate you. The roll he plays in your life? That's up in the air.

Pairing: Keigo Takami x FemReader, Endeavor x FemReader

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, descriptions of death, sexual themes and implications, mentions of harassment, (Eventual smut, as well as other warnings- they will be at the beginning of each chapter.)

Word Count: 4,471

A/N: I'm gonna write this shit til I get sick of writing it. Not to suck my own dick but I am in love with this story idea so we're just gonna keep rolling til it feels right to end it lmao.

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Silk may be the worst material ever invented. It slips and slides and hides absolutely nothing. Your lungs deflate as you slide your hands down the front of the horrid thing you've been asked to wear. It was laid out on your bed for you, with a small note that said, "Get dolled up for me." It isn't signed, it doesn't need to be.

It's a note from the man that more or less owns you. He likes to say he takes care of you, you like to say he holds your leash. At the end of the day, coming to him was what you needed to do to survive, so you did it. You shake the thoughts of how you came to be here from your head, ignoring the dreadful remnants of a time when you were desperate enough to turn to him for protection.

Enji Todoroki lives one of the most complex double lives in existence. He’s a magnificent hero, topping the charts and staying there. He saves lives, lets his flames shine bright, he's a beacon of hope.

He’s also an incredibly feared underground crime lord. When the flames are off, he's no longer heroic, he's no longer honorable. He's bloodthirsty, his friends are few and his enemies are many.

Keeping these two realms separate is quite the task, but he pulls it off with his vast wealth and by calling in the seemingly limitless favors from those he’s helped out of sticky situations.

The supposedly heroic faces you’ve seen slinking around his estate were jarring at first. The mighty do indeed fall, and they tumble right into his lap. They’re always after something, a loan, various narcotics, maybe some illegal steroids to increase their performances.

Enji loves a bargain, he loves to string those poor saps along until they’re too confused to agree to anything that’s reasonable. It’s horribly entertaining, as backwards as it all is, you’ve grown fond of the way he befuddles every hopeless individual that finds themselves desperate enough to seek out his help.

Usually, you’re there by his side. You block out the conversation as you serve drinks, laugh at the bad jokes, and most of all, look pretty. Your job is to be his greatest manipulation tactic. Give the suckers something to drool at, get them drunk, stay out of the way so Enji can lock in whatever deal he’s making.

You ruffle your hair, straighten your dress, and take one final glance in your mirror.

There’s a familiar tightness in your chest when you acknowledge the real reason you’re used as something to gawk at.

Your wings.

Two broad, unruly, attention grabbing, white wings emerging from your shoulder blades. Little speckles of brown and black exist among the sea of white feathers that fall all the way to the floor. The feathers at the tips always look pitiful, since their entire existence is spent dragging the floor.

They’re useless things, heavy and cumbersome and completely nonfunctional. You could probably fly if you wanted to, if somebody would teach you. You never stood a chance at that though, your parents couldn’t even begin to do so, and Enji certainly won’t waste energy on it. No, he likes having you on the ground. Safe and sound, much more convenient to keep you without a cage.

The bones of them often ache, obviously needing to be used, desperate to do their job. They most resemble the wings of a Barn Owl. Along with the wings, your quirk provides you with exceptional vision and hearing. Sometimes it feels like a sixth sense, like you can tell when things are going to happen before they actually do.

This, of course, makes you invaluable to Enji during his meetings. You’re able to pick up on nervous ticks, listen to the whispers, and tip him off. He does love keeping you around for that, you’ve assisted him innumerable times, and he always rewards so generously. He keeps you comfortable, spoiled even, anything for his Angel.

Enji’s Angel.

It was never very official, he just started calling you by it, and you started answering to it. In your younger years it was almost affectionate, slightly comforting. Now, it’s a scarlet letter, a stage name, belonging to somebody who doesn’t quite exist.

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The meeting is absolute torture. Some schmuck is sitting across from you and Enji, blubbering his way through some bullshit about how he’ll have the money next week. You’re perched on Enji’s lap, reclining against his chest with your chin up high.

You’re all sitting around a large oak coffee table in Enji’s office, drinks in hands, guns in holsters.

“I swear, the guy I know, he owes me, he says he’ll have the money by this weekend, maybe even sooner!” The sniffling client begs. He’s a pitiful little man, all short and greasy looking, with bulbous eyes that sit above a large aquiline nose.

“Oh, how reassuring, my money is in the hands of a friend of a liar,” Enji sneers, voice low and menacing, “Doesn’t that put you at ease, Angel?” His hand snakes around your waist, making his claim on you evident to everyone in the room.

The client brought two goons with him, both sit on the lavish loveseat, watching with putrid envy as Enji’s hands roam across your middle.

You run your hand up his massive chest, making a show of adjusting your hips in his lap. You flash your eyes up to his and roll your shoulders, wings rippling as you do. The room is taken over by a heavy, consuming silence.

You survey Enji’s face, void of flames for such a serious event. You hear hearts beat faster, breathing quicken, idiots, every one of them.

“No, I don’t think it does, sir.” You purr, hand playing with the collar of his grey dress shirt.

This whole charade used to make your skin crawl, feeling eyes burn into your flesh, knowing that if Enji weren’t here you’d be laid out on the table while the pigs around you took turns.

You expressed this once, crying and shaking as you begged Enji to stop bringing you into them. His only response was to demand that you tell him whenever somebody was making you uncomfortable, and he would gladly take care of it.

It only took one client, one dense motherfucker who put his hand on your thigh. The second his hand was on you, Enji put a bullet in his head. You watched the blood splatter, and the body hit the floor, but ripped your eyes away after that. You turned into Enji’s chest, clutching him as you realised it was all your doing, Enji had killed for you.

Since then, you vowed to maintain a facade of confidence in these meetings. If Enji were to kill, it would be because of his own corrupted motives, not for you, never again.

You no longer let the bile rise in your throat, you don’t look away from any perverse gaze. You keep your nerves steady, and you stare the bastards down.

One of the goons shifts in their seat, making Enji shoot him a warning glance as you continue to fiddle with his shirt.

“I don’t think it’s wise to leave so much money up to ‘maybe’ and ‘this guy’.” You sigh as you slide off Enji’s lap, keeping your hand on his chest as you slink around to stand behind him. He gives you a knowing look, full of admiration and pride, he does love watching you perform.

Show time.

You flutter your wings out to the sides, stretching them, making a spectacle of them. All three of the men watch with comically amazed expressions. Their jaws may as well be on the floor, you slide your hands onto Enji’s broad shoulders so you can rub small circles into his muscles.

“I agree, I don’t like all this ‘maybe’ bullshit.” the energy in the room thickens as he speaks, falling into heavy silence in reverence of the power his voice exudes.

"Angel, will you grab us some more drinks?" You draw yourself up tall, ignoring the eyes that gorge on your decolletage.

"Yes Sir." You lean down to place a sweet kiss on Enji's cheek, flashing a little too much skin for his guests.

"Isn't she lovely, gentlemen?" He wonders out loud, looking up at you fondly.

No, not fondly, possessively, greedily. There's no loving tenderness that comes with fondness.

The men nod quietly, all afraid to cross a line, none willing to speak out of turn.

"Do a spin for them, sweetheart." He grabs your wrist and pulls you around to his side.

Your cheeks and ears run hot as he lifts your arm for you to spin, leaving space for your wings. You give a smooth twirl, feathers and dress flowing around you with a subtle woosh.

"Men would kill for her, don't you think?" Another round of silent nods, another wave of tense energy.

"I have." It's a warning, loud and clear.

He waves his hand in your direction, dismissive and bored.

"Go on, Angel. I have to have a private word with our guests." You glide out of the room gracefully, walking slowly enough so they can all watch you leave.

You swallow the terrible feelings rising in your gut, knowing damn well how rarely people leave that room alive after a "private word". You find your way to the kitchen easily, a tray of drinks already prepared on the fine granite countertop.

Enji's estate is nothing short of magnificent, all expensive foreign materials, gold fixtures and crystal chandeliers. All supplied by his mass of illegally acquired wealth.

One of the sweet little maids nods at you, gawking at your wings as always. You have a strange relationship with the staff at the house, they always treat you like some skittish animal. Afraid that you're unpredictable, even dangerous.

It's always seemed odd to you, but you've grown to understand it. None of them know where you came from, nor how you ended up in Enji's good graces, let alone a cherished prize to him.

On your way back down the hall, you hear the shouting of men, not an usual occurrence, but this time it makes your blood run cold. It sounds much more… painful, then usual. Cries for help mixed with curses and strangled yells. You freeze when the door rattles with such force, the only explanation can be that a body was thrown against it.

Then, there's silence. Silence, followed by sick laughter. You know Enji's voice too well, his rich tone fills your ears, but there's one other. Did he have an accomplice? It's not uncommon for Enji to have all his bases covered, so it's possible one of the goons was a double agent.

Your feet find their function again and you pad quietly towards the door. You take a second to breathe deeply, preparing yourself for the inevitable bloodshed you're about to witness.

You rap your knuckles on the door very quietly, wouldn't want to disturb the dead.

"Angel? Is that you?" Enji's voice calls as his laughter settles, the other man went silent as soon as your hand met the wood of the door.

"Yes sir." You say, trying to keep your voice soft but still wanting to be heard.

"Oh shit, get this out of the way."

A body.

You hear something slide then drop, and your chest squeezes with guilt. One day you won't have these feelings, one day seeing someone drop dead will evoke no more feeling than watching dead hair fall to the ground after it's trimmed. At least, that's what Enji tells you.

The door cracks open, a wall of a human standing on the other side of it. Enji beams down at you, the smallest amount of blood decorates his gray collar.

"Why do you always get so messy when I leave?" You tease, despite the sick feeling in your gut.

"It's a messy business." He counters, holding the door for you to step into the room. You expect the slit throats, the smell of blood, and the horrid joy in Enji's face. What you don't expect, is the creature poised in the corner of the room.

A creature with wings. No, not a creature, a man. With menacing, vibrant, crimson wings. His face is nothing but sharp serious lines, highlights of gold with intense shadows. He's covered in slim fitting black clothing, giving him a tactical and militant look.

He looks so powerful, and so beautiful. The only thing you can think to compare him to is a fallen angel, heavenly, but haunting.

In his hands, he holds a… sword? Then he steps further into view, and you see the blade shift. A feather. With a smooth, deadly twitch of his wrist, he flicks the rigid feather. It sends blood splattering across the floor where he stands.

His glowing eyes watch you, waiting for you to react, maybe waiting for you to scream, run away and hide. You can't, though, you're entranced. He has wings. Your own twitch behind your back, suddenly feeling even more cumbersome and useless after seeing how athletic and beautiful his own are.

As gruesome as the scene is, he's magnificent, stunning in such an overwhelming way. His eyes rake over your body, but it doesn't feel perverse, it feels like he's sizing you up, estimating your abilities.

Because he is.

"Angel, this is Hawks, he's a very good friend of mine." Enji explains, relaxing back into his chair as you and Hawks continue to watch each other.

You would never know it, but his breath hitched the second he saw you. Enji had told him about his Angel, but his description did you no justice. To Hawks, at least, you look capable, intimidating even. Your wings are equal in size to his, but compared to your smaller frame they look so fierce.

Neither of you has seen or heard of someone with a quirk like yours, or even remotely similar. So you stand there, amazed, in fear, sizing each other up.

"Isn't she something?" Enji's voice pulls you out of your trance, your eyes finally breaking from his friend's.

Hawks just hums, eyes still locked on your form as you set the tray of drinks down in front of Enji. He pours one for himself, then one for you, and one for Hawks. You take a glance around at the gore surrounding you, and shake your head at the drink.

"Not tonight, I'm tired." You try to sell it as best you can, but Enji sees right through you.

"Her stomach isn't very strong yet, sensitive little thing." He says to Hawks.

When you glance over to him, his reaction unsettles you. He grins, a broad, breathtaking thing. He's amused, embarrassed for you. How silly of you to be so bothered by a fucking murder scene.

Aside from the dead bodies, you can't stand another second under the predatory gaze of Enji's new friend. The whole scene makes you more uncomfortable than anything has in a long while. It's very apparent by Enji's lack of weapons, and by Hawks' feral appearance, that Hawks is some kind of hit man.

"Get some rest, then." Enji says dismissively.

You kiss him on the cheek, earning a rare smile from his usual straight lips. There's no affection behind your kiss, but there is loyalty, and he knows that.

Doing your best not to seem like you're in a rush, you keep your head down and walk steadily towards the door.

"Nice to meet you, Angel." His voice is like caramel syrup, dripping over you and heating you up.

You hate it.

You give him nothing but a turse nod then duck out the door, trying to keep your heart in it's cage, trying to keep your hands from shaking. What the hell was that?

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You spend some time in the library before heading to bed. The fireplace crackles and pops, casting beautiful, dancing lights on the dark oak bookshelves. It's not a massive library, but it's decent. Full of books that have been collected by Enji, but not read. You do the reading, he does the acquiring.

Not tonight, though. Tonight you just sit, you sit and overthink. You can't seem to shake the uneasy feeling this "Hawks" character gave you. He was so primal looking, so unhinged, so… beastly.

The contrast of his beauty is what keeps punching you in the gut. He was nothing short of stunning, like a marble statue brought to life by an enchantress. That's even without his wings. God, his wings. He must look spectacular in the air, so majestic.

You stuff the thought down, deep down. The longing in your chest is enough to make your eyes sting with tears. Flying. A feeling you've never known, but the instinct burns beneath your skin. You wonder if even knows how lucky he is…

You grab onto those thoughts before they run away, standing to your feet with a stretch and a ruffle of your own wings.

You just need sleep, you need to shake this off. Enji has plenty of "friends", plenty of lowlifes and murderers that he keeps close. Hawks is no different, he'll linger for a bit, then disappear under mysterious circumstances, and you'll never hear his name again.

The thought should bring your comfort as you travel to your bedroom, but as you wander through the halls, your chest aches. Somehow, the idea of not knowing all you can about this stranger makes you itch. Which in turn, makes you detest his presence even more. There's no reason for such a fascination… aside from your resemblance to him.

The sound of your bedroom door latching behind you does bring you some piece, lifting some of the weight off of your lungs. Until you hear the slightest ruffle echo from the direction of your window.

The hair on your neck stands on end as you draw your wings up to their full size. Your shoulders are rigid, fists clenched as you whip your head around to identify the sound.

"Do you always sleep with the door unlocked?" That sugary voice falls on your ears once again, raising goosebumps all over your body.

You don't answer, you only watch, inching backwards towards the door. There could be only one reason one of Enji's friends would corner you like this, the thought makes your heart beat to the point of nearly breaking through your chest.

He's perched on your windowsill, feet dangling into the room, wings relaxed behind him as the wind catches his scarlet feathers. The curtains away around him as they catch the cool breeze, the whole scene gives him an almost ghostly look, especially with the pale light of the moon as the only illumination in your bedroom.

"Easy, kid." He slides off lazily, arms crossed as he saunters towards you, "I just wanted to talk."

His lips quirk up into an easy smirk, something that makes your insides stir.

"Talk quick, then get out." You snap, pressing your back against the door, drawing your wings in around yourself protectively as your arms wrap around your chest. He stops nearly a foot from you, his own wings spread wide, almost like he's showing off.

The energy is thick, pressing on your lungs as you watch his face. He looks down his nose at you, not judging, but observing. His eyes are lit with a patient look, something soft but relatively unreadable. His proximity overwhelms you, even up close, you're hard pressed to find a single flaw.

There you stand, shrouded in scarlet, him in white. Both waiting for the other to speak, or move, or even breathe. Desperate for some evidence that you were both real and not some apparition sent to mock your poor mortal brain with an image of unparalleled perfection.

Wild, dazzling, gilded eyes search your face. Predatory pupils slit as he takes in every detail he can. His chest rises, and he speaks. He utters a simple, "They're beautiful." and everything shatters.

A cadence of feelings builds within your chest, tuning up like an orchestra. All unorganized noise, arching and mixing, impossible to focus on anything in particular.

Then the most beautiful part, the settling of the chaos. All of the instruments find their notes as they fade out. The anticipatory silence settles within you, preparing you for the moment when they all roll into the first cord of their symphony.

You don't feel right taking the name Angel, not after this, not after you've seen one. Your reverence for his beauty is short lived, though. As soon as you remember the way his eyes were wild with bloodlust, the way he had taken lives with his own feathers.

Admiration is replaced with apprehension. However, the strongest feeling is curiosity, morbid, forbidden curiosity.

You shove the compliment to the far corners of your brain, ignoring the fire it stokes in your heart.

"Talk or leave." You say shortly.

"Not a fan of flattery?" He asks, quirking a thick eyebrow.

"Not a fan of coercion." You reply, arms drawing tighter around your chest.

Hawks pauses for a moment, considering your answer.

"What are you a fan of?" His smile grows a bit more as he turns away from you on his heels, looking almost bored. You stay glued to your door, wrapped around yourself, completely frozen.

"Well, I'm usually a fan of not having my room invaded by murderers." You sneer, attempting to ignore the way his body moves so elegantly as he investigates your room with fabricated intrigue.

He scoffs a bit at your feisty retort, looking over his shoulder to give you quick up and down with his eyes. He wanders back to the window, back to you as he takes a look out.

"A murderer. That's a bold accusation, sweetheart." He turns around again, backlit by the moonlight.

"Can you use em'?" He asks, nodding behind you.

The question bites at your insides, it twists your guts up onto angry knots.

You shake your head, you can't say it out loud, you can't admit it.

His face falls the slightest bit, less amused, more aware. Perhaps he feels sympathy, imagining a life without the freedom of flight.

"I see." He says quietly, "A dove?" He wonders out loud.

His prying starts to eat at your patience, you already feel intruded upon by him sneaking into your bedroom, and now he wants to dissect your anatomy? Yet, you still find yourself drawn to the conversation, hanging on his words, hoping to gain information about him in exchange for information about yourself.

"Owl." You say simply, easing off the door a little so you can spread your wings some, "The markings give it away."

He nods, taking in the messy brown and black speckles at the tips.

"How did you do that with your feather?" You ask, works spilling out a little too fast.

Both of his eyebrows shoot up, surprised by your sudden engagement in the conversation.

His only reply is by drawing himself up by his shoulders. Then, miraculously, one of his feathers flies from his wing, darting straight for you until it pauses in front of your face. You flinch slightly before it pauses, then you stand transfixed, watching the small crimson blade levitate before you.

You want to reach out and grab it, find the string that's holding it up, find the answer to this magic trick.

"Pretty cool, huh?" He says, full of confidence as he sways back over to you, "You can touch it." He says gently.

So you do, you take it into your hand gently. The texture is shocking, it's soft and silky, much more pleasant than your coarse and textured feathers.

"How?" You ask, amazed by his abilities.

He shrugs and turns around again, pacing back to the window. You take a mental note of his inability to stand still for longer than a few seconds.

"I just… can." He says it so matter of fact, like it's the obvious answer.

Now that he's more relaxed, not holding a feather dripping with blood, he seems almost... Friendly? He certainly seems less frightening, less aggressive and formidable.

You hold the feather in your palms, waiting for the next trick.

"Keep it." He says as he settles back down onto the windowsill, sitting like he was when you first found him.

He stretches an arm around to brace on the outside of the window frame, leaning back into the open air of the night. For a brief moment you panic, knowing you're on the third floor, but then you just feel stupid for being concerned for a person with functioning wings.

"Why?" You ask, closing in your hands as you look up at him.

His smile is devilish, he rolls his shoulders back and lifts himself up to his feet. He crowds the large window, filling it with his lean body and those powerful wings.

"In case you need me." He winks and gives you a lazy, two finger salute before letting himself fall away into the sky.

Your chest lurches as you dart to the window, desperate to see him in action, desperate to see someone fly.

By the time you reach the window, though, he's nowhere to be seen. Evaporated into the stars, not even the sound of beating wings left as evidence.

You glance down at the feather in your hands, and notice it twitch to life before it floats up to hover in front of your face again. Your chest fills with an absolute mess of unorganized, chaotic feelings that you can't even begin to pull apart and make sense of.

The feather flicks under your chin, tickling the skin there with its pointed tip. You snatch it roughly, irritated with the teasing, perturbed by his nonchalance. You slam the window shut before huffing over to your dresser, you rip a drawer open and shove the feather between your clothes.

You slam it shut as the raging sea of emotions beats against your chest, drowning your lungs as well as any cognitive brain function.

You can't make sense of any of this shit, you can't imagine how anyone could have ever made it up to your room without Enji's knowledge. Unless… he was let up… but that doesn't make any sense. None of it does. It's all so cloudy, you feel thousands of questions swarm your brain, and you don't possess a single answer.

The only thing you know for sure, is that you have to find out more about this fallen angel, you have to find out more about Hawks.

[mavericksy]

Back Where He Belongs (Kiribaku)

Summary: Kirishima tries to stay up late to wait for Bakugou to come back from his first night patrol.

Words: 1388

Kirishima shook droplets of soapy water from the bowl and picked up a towel. He turned his back on the kitchen sink and instead gazed over the kitchen island, where noise from the television buzzed in the quiet room.

He watched silently as the two news presenters discussed a recent political controversy, trying to wobble his lower lip into an optimistic smile.

“And so, the question is, should the prime minister have…”

He hoped that the old adage ‘no news means good news’ was ringing true tonight.

He turned back to the sink, placing yet another clean bowl on the side. He looked down dolefully at the scant remaining pieces of cutlery lying at the bottom of the washing up bowl. He sighed and picked up a tablespoon, turning back to the TV.

“But it just speaks to the growing social unrest in this country…”

A noise from outside the apartment door caught his attention. He stopped smothering the spoon- which must have been bone dry at this point- and fixed his eyes on the entryway. There was a series of shuffles and clanks. Light footsteps slapped past the door, probably made by the old lady down the hall in her house slippers or the young dad in his canvas sneakers rather than Kirishima’s beloved in his heavy boots.

He sighed and put the spoon down on the side. Seeing the sky beyond the windows turn deeper and deeper shades of blue, filling his apartment with thick shadows, he walked over to the light switch on the wall and pressed the middle one, making the lights over the island flash on.

The white light radiated across the open plan room, illuminating how empty it was. Magazines laid strewn across the glass coffee table, but nobody was reclining in the red vinyl couch to read them. Nobody had moved Kirishima’s towel from the treadmill since he had finished using it several hours earlier, or turned to give him a half-hearted earful about putting his things away.

Trying to focus on the latest human interest story, he kept turning his head towards the television as he lumbered around the kitchen putting the dishes away, but his gaze kept wandering towards the large windows behind the flashing screen.

A tray slipped from his hands.

“Shit-” His hand darted towards the falling sheet of metal, trapping it between his forearm and the white cabinets before it could clatter against the floor. He reached up to put it in the cabinet above the sink, blinking as it connected brashly with the other trays.

He rubbed his eyes. His muscled arms felt heavy in their sockets, and he was beginning to need to lean against the countertop to keep himself from keeling over. He glanced at the clock on the wall.

01:41

With a great sigh, he chucked the remaining forks and spoons haphazardly into the drawer and ambled towards the TV to turn it off. The broad grin of the host grew sharper as he neared the screen, only to wink back into relative blurriness as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“What do you think of the…”

He cut them off abruptly as he pressed the button on the side of the screen, drawing his hands away from it slowly to rub his eyes, mouth stretching into a cavernous yawn. When he opened his eyes again, the smooth lines and shapes of the couch greeted him, but he knew better than to try and squeeze his broad shoulders and long body onto its hard, unforgiving frame. He stepped past it, patting the back for support on his way to the main light switch.

He took one last look over the empty room.

Click.

Allowing himself to stretch and yawn fully, he swished his way over to the bedroom in his daytime sweatpants, making an effort to yank off the button-up shirt he had grabbed earlier for warmth, but not much else. It hit the floor behind him with a gentle whumpf, but he barely registered the noise as his feet rolled towards the expanse of dark cotton bedsheets and a half-rumpled cover.

His head crashed into the pillow. An exhausted groan trickled out of him as his eyes roamed across the opposite wall. Dark shapes prickled over a large motivational poster, the words barely legible in the light stolen from the streetlamps several storeys below. As he struggled to make them out, his right hand closed around a pair of dog tags hanging around his neck, trapped under his thick torso.

The metal was warm from him wearing them close to his skin all day. Some last vestige of thought at the back of his mind told him he should take them off, in case the chain strangled him to death in his sleep- or, worse, in case he damaged them overnight.

His hand clutched them tighter.

Be better than the…than the…

The posters words continued to elude him. He woke up facing that poster every morning, yet the shapes of the bold white letters grew hazier and hazier the more he stared at them.

His eyelids fluttered. He inhaled heavily into the pillow, drawing the duvet cover tighter around him with his legs.

There was nobody at his back. The only thing between him and the bedroom door was the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He gripped the dog tags tighter, letting his eyes roll back into his head as he waited for sleep to take him.

“Hey…”

A whisper rasped across the room, so soft he almost didn’t catch it. At once, he scrambled to roll over, kicking his legs as they tangled in the sheets. The room was almost pitch black, but the last breath of the streetlamps had cast the other man’s face in the dimmest of grey. His lips were pressed together, and his eyes were sloped downwards, following the drawn-out lines of his mouth and jaw as he leaned over the mattress.

Kirishima licked his lips, not realising how dry his mouth had suddenly become. He sensed Bakugou’s deep red eyes flicker over him, and saw from the orange digits of the clock on the nightstand that it was 03:16.

“I didn’t mean t’wake you…” Bakugou mumbled, kicking his clothes to the side. He reached out as he flopped onto the bed, fingering the dog tags. “You shouldn’t sleep with those on, you know.”

His index finger brushed Kirishima’s chest. With that simple touch, a last reserve of energy coursed over him, and he felt his arm jerk out to grab his forearm and pull him in. Bakugou’s warmth engulfed his torso as he dragged him on top of him, lying chest-to-chest. He wondered if he’d be able to feel his heart hammering underneath his skin.

His hands fastened behind Bakugou’s neck. Bakugou’s entire body relaxed as he settled almost instinctively on top of him, his hands curling inwards on either side of his head. The shaved side of his head brushed against Kirishima’s as he tucked his chin underneath his jaw, so close Kirishima could feel him squeeze his eyes closed.

“It was just a normal patrol,” he grunted, his chest flexing into Kirishima’s as he spoke.

“I know,” Kirishima whispered. “But it’s the first time you’ve been gone at night.”

“You miss me or something?”

Kirishima coughed out a laugh, his breathing somewhat restricted by the pressure of his partner’s body.

“I was worried about you.”

“Yeah…?” Bakugou shifted his hips, trying to buck the cover further over him. Kirishima pulled it upwards, not caring that it left his own feet poking out. “Well, you shouldn’t have been…dumbass…”

“I know. But I was.”

“But why? You know I’d never let anything bad happen to me…not while I’ve got you to live for…”

Kirishima’s chest puckered as he laughed again- silently- tightening his grip around Bakugou’s sides and letting his forearms squeeze against his warm sinews of muscle. He nuzzled his temples against Bakugou’s hair, pressing a light kiss beneath his ear. Bakugou’s chin dug deeper into his shoulder.

An easy smile flickered over his face, the movement completely disconnected from any sense of tiredness, as he gazed up at the blackness of the ceiling.

“Because that’s what you do when you have somebody to love,” he whispered into the night.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965089

✨requests are open! feel free to drop me an ask! ✨

[angelicichor]

Okay, here we go again, hope y’all ready.

Slashers dealing with their S/O having a mental break down pt.2 in which I’m a horrible person and Bubba baby I’m so sorry.

TW: self-degradation, mental trauma, mental break down, depression

Michael Myers (OG):

♦ The very moment the infamous Shape of Haddonfield had spared your life on that fateful Halloween night you knew that your existence would get a whole lot harder.

♦ You’ve read Doctor Loomis’ book, it created a clear image of this being before you in your head, this devil, who took people’s lives to satisfy some gross urge inside himself, some repressed emotions, some perversion, who knew.

♦ Yet as the man with the devil’s eyes moved into your house and you got to spend time with him, willingly or not, you learned there was more to him than the psychiatrist claimed. It was hard to tell what exactly you saw in him, it might’ve been pure Stockholm syndrome after being forced to stay indoors for a week just after meeting him, but you grew a bond with this murderer.

♦ It clearly wasn’t love, but rather adoration, maybe friendship, it was impossible to decide, really, somehow you doubted there was a title for what you two had, so you just decided to call it a voluntary hostage situation.

♦ It was stupid and Michael just sighed heavily through his mask when you’ve told him about the name, but it was SOMETHING.

♦ And you needed a lot of somethings to deal with him, with who he was and what hiding you at your place made you. 

♦ You’ve suffered sleepless nights because of it, all too aware what was going on when Michael was gone, noticing all the missing knives, the axe from your shed, the rope, even the blade from your lawnmower. You’d stand up in the morning only to find his bloody coveralls on the top of your dark clothing, ready for washing, while he was walking around in your ex’s pants.

♦ But even though your mind told you of all the atrocities this man committed, you couldn’t pull away from him. Something keeping you in place and you feared it was the anxious awareness that if you betrayed him, he’d know, he’d find you and he’d end you in a heart beat.

♦ Each day your sane mind told you to call the police and get under witness protection, get away from this soulless monster, start anew and once you’re old and already satisfied with the life you’ve led, you can write a book about it and live the rest of your days in luxury from your sales.

♦ But it wasn’t that easy, because the twisted part of your self was attracted to this now familiar danger. His body, his touch and his voice, only sounding for you, dark and raspy, making you tremble whenever he called out your name.

♦ You craved his dark affection, his toxic touch and those piercing eyes gazing into you with a primal possessiveness to them. He had marked you his way too many times.

♦ And within the walls of the house you used to feel at home in you felt lost, starring into the pool of red beneath your feet, still shuddering from what happened, your gut clenching at the realization that it had been the second time, too.

♦ He killed someone in front of you. 

♦ Yet this time you felt nothing, an empty, raging void sucking your heart in, as you zoned out of everything, not even able to think, an empty husk.

♦ There was some distant sensation, something dark pulling forward, a part of you tried to push it away, but it was weak and as you heard the floor boards behind you creak, it lost.

♦ “Michael… Can you… kill me?” you asked, voice devoid of emotion, cold and distant, lost, without purpose and sitting before a window you didn’t notice his reaction, the way his body stuttered, head tilting and brows furrowing under the mask. He never had it in him to take it off in front of you for longer than a minute.

♦ And you noticed it starring back at you, unmoving and that brought a tired half-smile towards your pale face, a breath of a broken laugh leaving your chest, but not mouth, giving your body a single shake. 

♦ Of course he wouldn’t take it off, why would he, for some stupid play thing like you? You were too stupid to even understand why he wore it in the first place, with his looks he could have anyone he wanted, but he settled for you, why? You were pretty sure it was only because you hadn’t annoyed him that much when he tried to kill you, he just thought you were simple and stupid, perfect to use and throw away once he got bored, but now you wished so hard that he’d get it over with and move on.

♦ “Michael, I’m tired.” you murmured, and if listening to your words your brain let the wave of exhaustion wash over your face, body and soul, letting that one feeling go, your hands grasping at your hair, again blind to the twitch in his hands.

♦ “I’m grateful that you let me live then and… I adore you in a way I guess, though don’t ask me why, I don’t really understand myself.” you didn’t see him, but heard his footsteps, coming closer, but slowly, almost hesitantly. But you were sure he was just mocking you for being weak in front of him, drawing out your anxiety, the other feeling that slipped through the iron curtain your mind had set.

♦ “I just can’t handle it anymore, I know I’m pathetic, a coward, but I’ve been bearing with your… tendencies for so long… I’ve accepted you because there’s some fucked up part of me that wants to be with you but… I can’t handle being your toy, Michael… not anymore. I have feelings, too many of them, and they just… “ you didn’t get to finish, as The Shape pulled at your shoulder harshly towards him. 

♦ His throat clenched when you didn’t even make a sound, your tired, blank stare welcoming him instead. “Please, Michael. I can’t risk everything for someone who can never care for me.“ you spoke still, the darkness in your heart leaking, drop by drop, filling you to the brim as you smiled still, letting tears run down your cheeks. And at the angle he held you at you couldn’t even see the anger his eyes conveyed, but you could sense it. “I know this isn’t your fault.” And all too suddenly it was gone. “But I need you to let me go now. You’ll find someone better, prettier, maybe smart enough to give you enough stability to take get rid of this mask… Because god, you know I’m just a dumb little thing.” you huffed a laughter and yet he was still, unmoved, just like he always was, so you risked it, grabbing his hand and pushing your neck into it, anger overtaking your eyes. “Just fucking finish the job, Myers.” you cried, closing your eyes the moment his fingers tightened around you neck, squeezing tight. 

♦ And the feeling of relief in your gut was just sickening.

♦ Yet as you waited for your pipes to close, for a snap of your neck, for the stinging pain of his knife, nothing came. Instead your head spun with the sudden sensation of both of your cheeks being grabbed, painfully, but almost gently.

♦ You dared to open your eyes and froze instantly.

♦ “No.” Michael spoke from above you, digging his nails into your soft skin, his expression fixed into pure rage and you gulped. “You’re mine.” The growling of his voice made you tremble, eyes tearing up once more, landing on his rough fingers. “And you will be till the day I die.” He pressed his forehead against yours, his blue eye making your very souls shiver as it’s gaze connected with your own, letting you soak in the pure obsessiveness of it’s nature.

♦ And you nodded gently, struggling to catch air, clawing at his dark shirt in a desperate attempt to ground yourself to something, anything.

♦ And for once, Michael reached out to you without the intent to harm, pulling you into his chest and sitting still, letting you steal just of tiny bit of his emotion.

♦ And you whimpered in joy, realizing just how horrible of a person you were.

Bubba Sawyer:

♦ You didn’t mean to scream.

♦ Or at least not at the person you did.

♦ Both Drayton and Nubbins looked at you appalled, as their sweetest family member let his head lower, taking in your words.

♦ This whole day was horrible from the start, you waking up with a headache, no motivation, the old man calling you down to trick you into feeding grandpa, then Nubbins came, insisting on showing you his knife and attempting to cut you with it, much to Drayton’s disapproval. 

♦ You’ve been walking around irritated as all hell the whole day, but once dinner rolled on, everything was just too much. Four screaming, kicking people were shoved towards the table and sat down, much to their protest, muted by the duck tape around their heads.

♦ Then Nubbins decided that it would’ve been a great idea to rip the gags off! With a knife! Laughing maniacally through the whole thing and the screams that mixed in with it soon after really didn’t help your migraine, neither did the ceremonial smashing heads in with a hammer, as Drayton missed on purpose to scare the poor, poor girl that was chosen to be first.

♦ And of course somebody had to wiggle out of the rope and hold a knife to your back, not realizing that you could, in fact, defend yourself by grabbing a plate and smashing it in his face.

♦ Then there was that chainsaw, oh, it was family, alright.

♦ Family of loud, annoying noises swearing to rip your poor brain to shreds, because there were no pain killers ANYWHERE in the house, of course there wouldn’t be! Drayton took them almost every day to ease his back pains, even though everybody knew damn well he was just tense and needed to find somebody to massage him, because neither you nor Nubbins would do it and Bubba… was a wild card.

♦ The poor boy.

♦ He just caught you at your worst moment, when you were about to tip over, having noticed that you were agitated the whole day and babbling to you in his sweet, darling voice, asking if you wan”ted to go rest.

♦ And that high pitched series of noises was enough for you to raise your voice.

♦ “CAN’T YOU FUCKING SHUT UP?!” You shrieked, not even pointing the complaint at him, but with the whole situation, it landed right at his heart.

♦ And you were god damn heart broken the moment you realized what you’ve just done.

♦ “Oh no…” he shook slightly, eyes focused on the ground as you stood up from your chair and fretted towards him. “Bubba, baby, I’m so sorry I-I didn’t…” you started, reaching out towards his masked face, but his sudden hold on your hands stopped you, making you look up at him in worry.

♦ He was pouting, but in that way that let you know he was angry and this time it was your turn to hang your head, pure shame flooding your heart.

♦ Bubba’s big, meaty and incredibly warm hand shifted to somehow fit into yours and with annoyed grumbles he pulled you to follow him and you did, ignoring Nubbins singing about you being in trouble.

♦ The big man brought you to your shared room and lightly pushed you onto the bed, making you exhaust a small huff as you hit the springy mattress. You sat up and to your shock you found Bubba kneeling down in front of you, lips still pouting, but head forcing it’s way onto your lap with a dissatisfied whine.

♦ You immediately started stroking his head, giving him small kisses in the process, calming him down as you explained your day to him, hoping he could forgive you.

♦ And when he took his boots off and climbed on the bed with you, pulling your small frame into his strong arms, you felt your whole body soften and tears ran down your cheeks, your whole being getting pulled into the worst crying fit you’ve ever had, even as a baby.

♦ And being the sweetheart that he was, Bubba was soon joining you in your messy love confessions and needy attempts at cuddling, which just ended with you sitting up, legs wrapped around each other’s waists (which was mostly just Bubba’s body making your disappear, like a true magician) and falling into a fit of crying, kisses and mumbling.

♦ When Drayton finally came to check on you, you were both asleep, eyes red from all the crying, but grinning like damned fools even while deep in dreams, hugging as much of each other as you could.

♦ And somehow three hours later your migraine was just a thing of the past, your new found motivation leading you to stand up and make everybody a tray of cookies.

♦ They deserved it, those beautiful bastards.

[wooflesthatwoof]

day 12 | flesh

day 12 from @31daysofwayhaven

Pairing(s): Nate Sewell x gender neutral!Detective Warning(s): Blood/injury, implied death Words: 1622 Summary: The detective heads to an abandoned house on the edge of town to help Tina with a case, Nate gets there only a few seconds late Notes: apparently i don’t know how to do monthly prompts with consistent word counts

 Sunlight streaming through the small bedroom window forces Nate awake, though it does little to motivate him to get up— especially with the gentle warmth radiating from the person curled up at his side. 

 The detective shifts, grumbling at the light and pulling their blankets further up. 

 “Still not a morning person, then?” Nate asks with a quiet chuckle.

 “No.” The reply is muffled from both the pillow and their arms. 

 “Well,” Nate shifts away, pressing a quick kiss to their forehead as he stands up, “we do have things to do today, so I’ll be waiting in the kitchen until you’re ready.” 

 They groan again, although this time they push the blankets away and roll out of bed. “I was only staying if you were.” 

 Nate offers a soft smile. He was fully aware that they would’ve stayed for hours if he did, which is precisely why he got up so quickly. 

 His smile brightens as the detective makes their way across the room just to lean on his shoulder, burying their face in the crook of his neck and wrapping their arms around his waist. 

 “What do we need to get done?” Their voice is barely audible, even with Nate’s supernatural hearing.

 He gives another kiss to the top of their head, smiling as he speaks, “Nothing too much, Adam wanted to check in before our upcoming mission and I told Felix I would help him with reports.” 

 “Help him or do it for him?” The detective chuckles quietly.

 He shakes his head at them, though he laughs as well. “Help, doing it for him doesn’t teach him anything.” 

 They shrug in response. “‘Watch and learn’ is a phrase for a reason.” 

 “You just wish I would do paperwork for you.” Nate teases with a light chuckle.

 “But you’re so good at it.” They laugh quietly, pushing off his shoulder and standing up with a small smile. 

 Nate still doesn’t know how they manage to do that. How they can make him fall in love all over again every single day, how all it takes is a smile to remind him how much he truly does love them. 

 He’s pulled away from his thoughts as the detective presses against his chest again, this time seeming to try and press as much of their skin to his as possible.

 “It’s cold, you’re warm.” Comes their mumbled explanation, which Nate smiles at.

 He can’t help but give a small chuckle, reaching around to tug them impossibly closer and leaning in to trail kisses from their chin to their collarbone. “Is this warm enough?” The whispered question is entirely unnecessary when he can feel the heat sparking from their skin. He takes pride in knowing he’s the cause of it.

 The detective nods in response regardless. 

 Nate laughs again, giving them another quick kiss. “Well, as much as I wish I could help you,” his hand dips to hover over their hip, just barely not touching them, “a shower would be quicker, and we really do need to leave before we’re late. You know Adam would never let us hear the end of it if we were.”

 They give a loud groan, grumbling a quick “You’re doing that on purpose” and having to physically push themself away to take a step back from him. Unfortunately, shoving themself off instead of walking away has the added effect of nearly sending them crashing to the floor as they trip over their dresser. 

 Nate catches them before they fully register that they were falling. One hand holding theirs, the other wrapping around their waist, leaving them in a position that would be quite romantic if the arm Nate wasn’t holding wasn’t hovering inches above small glass and ceramic decorations. 

 Finally processing everything that happened in only a few seconds, the detective smiles up at him. “Thank you.”

 “Of course.” Nate smiles back, pulling them up to stand properly. He’s the first to move away this time, not giving the detective another chance to trip themself.

   “Hey, Detective?” Tina pops around the corner, a small look of concern on her face.

 They glance up with a hum. 

 “You know that case that just came in?” She leans against the door frame, her entire face knitted into an expression of worry and anxiety.

 They nod, “The one about the old Brooke house?”

 She nods as well, “Yeah, the whole thing gives me the creeps. I’m supposed to swing by before my shift ends to check it out, but…” She ends the sentence with a frown.

 “Want some backup?” The detective offers a quick smile, already pushing back from their desk and grabbing their jacket.

 Tina flashes a smile in return, looping an arm over their shoulders. “You’re the best, you know that?” 

 The old Brooke house is every bit as creepy as the detective remembered, abandoned and run down after Mrs. Brooke and her two daughters moved out years ago. No one’s dared to move in after that, especially since kids started spreading rumors about it being haunted. They almost miss when they could brush off those rumors as absolute fantasy. 

 They frown as they step out of the car, staring up at the peeling paint and cracked, boarded up windows. “Tina?” They call over their shoulder, continuing as she glances up, “Mind if I call Nate before we head in? Figure somebody should know where we are, just in case.” 

 She gives a teasing chuckle in response, “Oh I’m sure that’s the only reason you’re calling your hot vampire boyfr—“

 The detective cuts her off with a joking punch— to which she responds with an equally joking betrayed look— and pulls out their phone to call Nate.

 “Detective.” Nate answers, a smile evident in his tone.

 “Hey,” They glance over at Tina, who is currently making faces at them for no purpose other than being distracting, “I’m just calling to check in for a second, Tina dragged me out to the old Brooke house for a case.”

 “The abandoned one on the edge of town?” Nate asks.

 They nod, quickly realizing he can’t see that and earning a quiet snicker from Tina. “Yeah, we shouldn’t take too long. I’ll call you again once we’re finishing up, if it takes me longer than an hour could you swing by?”

 “Of course.” His reply is instant, he quickly adds, “Please be safe.”

 “I will, see you soon.”

 Tina yells over their shoulder as they go to end the call, “Say hi to Farah for me!” 

 They faintly hear Nate chuckle on the other end before the call clicks off. They sigh softly, only partially because now they have no reason to put off going inside, and turn to Tina. “Ready to go then?”

 She grimaces. “Not really, but we kinda have to.”

 Nate paces anxiously in the warehouse common room, it had been an hour and a half since the detective called. He checks his phone again. He turns it off, sets it on the table and walks away. 

 He picks it back up immediately.

 Farah stares at him from the corner, “Are you okay?”

 “I’m fine.” Nate answers quickly, shaking his head a second later. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”

 “You know, I’m sure Adam’ll understand if you leave to go check on them.” Farah offers a reassuring smile, which honestly does help— if only by a little bit.

 Nate hesitates for a second, before nodding and turning to leave. 

 There’s nothing about the old, abandoned house that appears inviting at all. The warehouse almost looks better than it does, if only the house’s walls were crumbling the slightest bit more. 

 With how it looks, it makes sense for Nate to be wary of it, but the smell of blood— three sources, two human and one distinctly supernatural— certainly doesn’t help. 

 He immediately sprints to the door, which opens as soon as he gets to it. He’s met with a sight he instantly wishes he could forget, as the detective stumbles out into the sunlight while clutching their arm to their chest. It’s the same arm that nearly shattered the tiny ceramics and little glass pieces that morning, only it was bleeding horribly and the skin was torn and twisted deep enough that Nate wondered if they could still feel it at all.

 Fear flashes in the detective’s eyes as his shadow covers them, though it’s quickly replaced by relief as they look up to see him.

 Nate doesn’t say anything at all as he grabs them and runs, only stopping by the detective’s car when they try to pull their hand away.

 “Tina, where’s Tina?” They glance back towards the house. “She was supposed to be out before me, Nate she—“

 He cuts them off, “Wait here, I’ll find her.” 

 Tina leans against Nate’s side as the two of them walk, which is about all that she can manage with how bloody and beaten she is.

 A shout from outside draws his attention, a voice he’d recognize anywhere calling for him. He stares at Tina as he speeds up, moving as fast as he can with her still standing.

 Her scream forces him to look up. 

 Following her gaze, Nate nearly collapses entirely. 

 The supernatural who had previously been lurking in the house sits hunched over, the detective is pinned underneath it. It turns its nightmarish head towards the door to stare at Nate and Tina. Its eyes are dark and narrowed, glaring at them as it moves an arm— far too long to even vaguely resemble a human’s— to further cover the detective. It snarls at them, seemingly protective of its catch.

 There’s small scraps of still-bleeding flesh hanging in its rows and rows of teeth.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Strawberry Cream and BBQ - 19

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

Overview: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected.

Word Count: 2,283

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Future smut, Angst, Best friends to Lovers

Warning: Fluff, a little itty bitty angst.

Master List

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 (Final) - Move in Day: A SC&BBQ Drabble

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

You held the laundry basket against your hip, arm stretched out to the side as you walked down the hall to the last room at the end of the hallway. An earbud was in one ear, listening to your favorite music, occasionally nodding your head to the beat of it.

Hoseok’s heat had ended the other night, making it the first time in three days that you got to sleep longer than a couple hours. True to his word, he hadn’t been able to control himself after marking you, showing you another side of him that you never expected but you greatly enjoyed.

Entering the room, you hurried the best you could to the only empty washing machine, setting your basket on top of it to claim it, wincing while doing so. The only down side to rough sex meant that you were sore, and having a mate who enjoyed seeing you covered in hickeys, also meant that underneath your clothes your skin was dotted with various purple love bites.

Inside the laundry room, there were six washers and six dryers, five of which were already taken. The complex provided the machines, but the tenants had to use their own detergents and softeners, which you didn’t see as a hassle as some of the older tenants did. Against the left wall was a six-foot table in length, and a handful of black folding chairs incase anyone wanted to stick around. But there wasn’t anyone else in the room despite the machines running, so you didn’t feel guilty about setting your basket on the table.

You hummed along to the song as you got the water running, turning to separate the clothes. For the last three days, Hoseok and you were stuck to staying in the bedroom for the sake of keeping the rest of the furniture safe from your sexcapades. He already lived up to his promise of needing a new headboard, and you weren’t even positive if the sheets were salvageable at this point. With a shudder, your nose scrunched up at the thought.

As the washer filled with water, you tossed in a load of dark clothes, a mix of yours and Hoseok’s clothing. This was perhaps, the least exciting thing you’ve done since he came to stay with you. But it was the like nothing had changed. You were still you, the same woman who hated throwing all her laundry in the wash at once, unlike your neighbors who would rather toss it all in instead of separating them.

Since the task was so simple, your mind wandered to Sue and your friendship. You weren’t ready to say that it was dying, but you knew that it was nothing like it used to be. It felt like you were seeing her in a new light, one that painted her in a new light. During the last three days, your phone and Hoseok’s had taken turns with receiving messages from Sue, sometimes only minutes apart as she alternated between texting you. For obvious reasons you didn’t respond back. The only time you even touched your phone was when Hoseok went to go get snacks and food from the kitchen for you during the breaks. He didn’t let you leave the bed unless it was for the bathroom, but that was because he saw how sore and exhausted your body was.

You couldn’t help but shake your head, remembering how he had whined when you tried to go to the kitchen the first time after the first couple rounds. He knew exactly what was going to happen but you were being stubborn. It was a good thing he was right behind you when you stood, legs giving out at your attempt to stand. You had to reassure him more than once that you weren’t in pain.

Speaking of pain. Reaching up, you gently touched the bite mark on your neck with your fingers, only flinching a little. It was still sore and needed time to heal. How long it would take, you weren’t entirely sure. A sense of pride rushed through your body knowing that his mark was permanently there. You spent years, trying and failing to find the perfect man, only to realize he had been there all along. Tossing in the last shirt, you closed the lid. Maybe watching all those romance movies was starting to reflect on your life.

“Oops, I didn’t know someone was in here.”

Turning to look over your shoulder, you watched as two women entered the laundry room. They appeared to be a mother and daughter, sharing the same brown hair and thin nose. You knew the mother; her name was Mrs. Whitney and she lived three doors down from you.

“How are you doing hun?” Mrs. Whitney asked, adjusting her teal framed glasses as she went to the dryer against the right wall.

“Pretty good.” You answered, smiling when she looked your way. “Just trying too find the motivation to get a majority of the laundry done today.”

Mrs. Whitney chuckled as she put a basket on the floor. “Mind sending me some of that motivation when you find it?” With a glance over her shoulder, she gestured to her daughter who was sitting on one of the chairs, her eyes glued to her phone. “Better yet, send it to my daughter instead. Somebody doesn’t know when to set her phone down and help her mother.”

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. Instead you grabbed your own basket and tapped your fingers against the handle to give your hands something to do.

The daughter, realizing that she was being spoken about, lifted her head and forced a smile when your eyes met. She appeared to be around your age, young enough to have pink highlights in her hair and get away with it, but you didn’t immediately recognize her.

“You asked for company,” she told her mother.

“Yes, I did,” Mrs. Whitney agreed. “But I was hoping that you’d put the phone away too, Beth.”

Beth rolled her eyes, but she did put her phone in her pocket. “What would you like me to talk about?”

Leaning against the washer, you felt a pang of sympathy for Mrs. Whitney. You weren’t extremely close to her, but you were friendly enough to stop and have a conversation with each other if you weren’t press for time.

“Well, I think we have a new tenant living on this floor. I’m not sure what his name is, but I’ve seen him coming in and out. He’s a hybrid.”

You tilted your head to the side, biting back the smile that threatened to take over your face. No matter where you went, Hoseok managed to be the main story to any conversation as of late. “Actually,” you softly interjected. “That’s Hoseok. He’s staying with me while Sue, our friend and his owner, is away on the study abroad program offered at the college.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that Beth suddenly straightened up, her gaze focused on you.

Mrs. Wright on the other hand, just smiled. “Studying abroad? Well that’s exciting. Wait, Beth, don’t you have a friend doing that too?”

“Yeah, I’m friends with Sue too,” Beth explained. “She’s over in Hong Kong.”

If a dark cloud had the ability to form inside a building, you were willing to bet there was one hovering over your shoulder. You couldn’t recall ever seeing Beth, but the longer you look, she did seem familiar. She probably was friends with Sue. Even though it was a small town, the college attracted students from all over the state. If anything, you might have seen her in passing on campus.

There was just something about her that made your pulse race. Not like how it did when Hoseok was near. No. She gave you the same feeling you experienced every time you had to lock up the bookstore at night and had to walk around back to the parking lot where you kept your car. You felt nervous around her.

“Well isn’t this a small world,” Mrs. Whitney spoke, capturing your attention again.

You gave her a shaky smile, quickly nodding. “Yeah, small world.”

Shutting the dryer, she moved her full basket on to the table, pushing it against the wall to have space to fold her clothes. From what you could tell it was mostly whites and a dozen or two socks.

“That Hoseok, he seems around your age,” Mrs. Whitney sent you a knowing grin, obviously missing the mark that was on your neck. You knew that she meant well – things tended to go over her head sometimes – but she truly was a sweet woman. For the first few months after you moved into your apartment, she was the only one to say hi to you and offer help when you needed it. “Is he seeing anyone?”

Beth snorted, drawing her mother’s attention. “Might want to clean your glasses mom and take a look at her neck. He’s seeing someone alright.” As if to prove her point, she pointed at your neck, her eyes narrowing when you reached up to cover the mark with your hand. But Mrs. Whitney saw it before you could hide it.

“Oh, I didn’t realize…” Mrs. Whitney’s hands grip tightened on the washcloth she had been folding. “I’m sorry hun, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Whitney.”

The room went silent for a moment, the atmosphere so tense that it felt like it would suffocate you at any moment. Beth sat back in her seat, a smug grin on her face as she pulled out her phone.

“You know, he seems like a really nice man,” Mrs. Whitney softly said. “And as long as he makes you happy, then I don’t see any reason to dislike him.”

Looking up, you saw the gentle smile on her face that was meant just for you. “Thank you, Mrs. Whitney. Hoseok’s about the sweetest man you could ever meet.” Her smile widened as she began to fold her clothes once more, and you took that as your cue to leave.

You rubbed the mark once more before uncovering it, feeling Beth’s stare on it as you wished Mrs. Whitney a good day, hurrying out of the laundry room as fast as possible without drawing attention. Taking a shaky breath, your body moved on autopilot, the steps to your apartment already ingrained in your mind as your thoughts went elsewhere.

This wasn’t what you were expecting when you went to go do laundry. Obviously, there were still people who didn’t see hybrids as equals, but you didn’t think you’d run into someone who thought that way so soon. Especially someone who was a friend of Sue.

It didn’t change your mind or your feelings for Hoseok, you didn’t want to bother with people like Beth. What hurt was that she already had her mind made up about hybrids, and despite how sweet and understanding her mother is, she didn’t seem to be changing her mind anytime soon.

As you walked back into your apartment, you were still thinking about Beth when Hoseok walked out of your now shared bedroom, dropping a black garbage bag on the floor.

“Bad news,” he announced, scratching the base of his dog ears.

Raising an eyebrow, the corner of your lips curved into a smile as you guessed what was in the bag. “We need new bed sheets?”

“I’m thinking we should buy a bunch, that way if they get ruined, we don’t have to constantly go out to the store.” He had the decency to look partially guilty, but it was still amusing. Walking around the bag, he went to take the basket from you when he frowned, his tail stilling as he took in the not so happy look on your face. “Strawberry, is everything okay? If it’s about the sheets, I’m sorry. Ripping them was the last thing I planned to do.”

You shook your head though, effectively cutting him off. “No, it’s not that. Do you recall someone named Beth Whitney?” You asked, setting the basket on the floor. “Pink highlights, apparently a friend of Sue?”

He frowned as he thought about it, moving closer so he could slip his hand into yours. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t picture her. I might’ve met her at some point, Sue and Colin always had people over. Why do you ask?”

“I ran into her and her mom in the laundry room,” you answered, stepping into his embrace. His arms went around your back as he looked down at you. “She was very interested in the fact that you were staying with me. Beth, that is.”

Hoseok tilted his head. “Well, that’s weird.” But he kissed your forehead and your body relaxed at his touch. These three days had been amazing, and to see you suddenly so sad didn’t sit well with him. “I wouldn’t worry about it though. She’s probably someone who’s nosey. Sue always had a few friends who couldn’t mind their own business. We on the other hand, have to go shopping for a new headboard and sheets.”

That made you chuckle, and as you went to retrieve your purse, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling. It was like a cold breeze that never died down. You tried not to think about it, and when the two of you left, Hoseok wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you headed for the elevator. His touch warmed you up, but you could feel a pair of eyes on you that didn’t go away until the elevator doors closed shut.

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

/1/ /2/ /3/ /4/ /5/ /6/ /7/ /8/ /9/ /10/ /11/ /12/ /13/ /14/ /15/ /16/ /17/ /18/ /19/ /20/ /21/ /22/ /23/ /24/ /25/ /26/ /27/ /28/ /29/ /30/ /31/ /32/ /33/ /34/ /35/ /36/

A/N: AYYEE This is a long one (~3,000 words) but the smutty ones tend to be that way. This night concludes rather successfully! Explicit content warning applies. 

Chapter 37.

“What was that… police courtesy card you gave Ben?” Noble wonders as we make our way down Seventh Avenue. The cold has us huddled side by side while we walk, hands buried in coat pockets. It’s a long walk from the karaoke bar in the Village to Noble’s hotel, but the chilled late night air helps sober us. “What is that?”

“Oh!” Vinny shouts from up ahead. Arm linked with Bianca’s, he turns to laugh at me over his shoulder. “Ben got the Jamie Reagan Black Card?”

“Shut up,” I groan. “He was a nice guy, alright? You’re one to talk, Vin.”

“What was it?” Noble questions again.

“They’re nothing,” I answer. 

“They’re like a friends-and-family get out of jail free card,” Vinny explains. “We’re allotted so many and we can give ‘em out to people as a courtesy.”

“Does it have your number on it?” Noble asks.

“No,” I tell him.

“I gave Ben my number!” Bianca calls out.

Noble ignores that and looks at me. “You never gave me one.”

“Nick doesn’t have one of your PBA cards?” Vinny turns and slows his pace so that we catch up to him.

“He doesn’t live here,” I contend. “And it’s not really a get out of jail free card. But if somehow you wound up in jail, it’s probably for good reason and my card’s not gonna do you any good.”

“Look man--” Vinny moves for his wallet from his back pocket. “You can have one of mine--”

“Oh, my god.” I cut my eyes up to the sky. “Ridiculous.”

Noble reaches out and takes the plastic card. “Thanks, Vinny.”

“You ever get pulled over in the five boroughs, you tell ‘em Officer Cruz from the Twelfth Precinct has got you.”

“I will, man.”

“You dumbass.” I laugh at that reassurance, lunging forward to shove Vinny’s back. 

“What about me? Where’s my card?” Bianca wonders as she lifts her chin to blink up beside him.

Vinny pulls her in closer, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leans down to her ear. There he mumbles something that makes her open her mouth in surprise and tip her head back with a loud laugh. I can only imagine what kind of police courtesy he offered her instead.

“So Vin--” Noble starts. “How are you getting back uptown. We wanna flag a cab, or--?”

“Rude!” Bianca accuses, glaring back at him. “God, Nick.”

“I’m not being rude! We’re all the way downtown so I was just curious--”

I have to laugh as I shake my head. Noble is always willing to play host for anyone except the guy who’s apparently trying to sneak his way behind a closed door with his sister. 

“Nah. It’s late, it’s cool.” Vinny points over his shoulder toward the subway station down the block. “I’ll jump on the 1.” 

As we draw closer to the Greenwich, Vinny looks up at the unassuming brick building, its heavy wood doors that sit back on the quiet block. “Oh yeah,” he muses. “I definitely remember this call. You went back to the scene of the crime, huh Reagan?”

“What can I say?” I tease, with a wistful glance at the facade. “I figured I should follow up on that noise complaint. And then, y’know, things happen.”  

Noble points at Vinny when I say that. “What’d I tell you? Shifty.”

“My boy was motivated.” Vinny chuckles. 

“I was diligent. In my police work.” I attempt an innocent retort, my hands spread, but it only makes the other two guys crack up. 

Vinny claps his hands hard as he doubles over, sputtering a laugh. “Alright, I’m gonna let you guys get after it.”

I’m just drunk enough that I don’t berate him for that comment. Because… I mean, yeah, let’s be honest.

“Oh lucky me,” Bianca laments. “Thank God for headphones.”

“Hey, it was great to meet you, Nick,” Vinny offers as he steps closer to Noble and they slap each others’ backs in an embrace. I’m kind of impressed at the way Vinny smoothly wraps things up. He’s not trying to make a deal or sweet talk his way upstairs. I won’t question it.

“You too, man,” Noble says. “Thanks for coming out with us tonight. You were a real sport.”

“Anytime. I had a blast.” Easing away, Vinny reaches over and smacks his palm hard against my chest. “And you know I got Reagan’s back up here.”

“I appreciate that,” Noble smiles. “You gotta watch him.”

“Come on,” I exhale a soft laugh and start to guide Noble toward the doors. “Later, Cruz. I’ll see you Monday.”

“N-No-no, hang on,” Noble hesitates even though I’m urging him to turn away so that Vinny can at least have his own space to say goodnight to Bianca. 

“I’m coming up, Nick,” she assures him with this annoyed insistence. “My god. Can’t I walk with him to the train?”

“No,” Noble denies her. “He walked with us here. And now we’re done.”

“Oh my god,” I mutter, rubbing my fingers across my brow. 

“Yo, we’re good. We’re good,” Vinny decides and I know he doesn’t want to assert himself in any kind of tense brother-sister contention. “Bella, it was wonderful to meet you.” With open arms, he leans in for a hug, kissing her cheek on the way and she reciprocates, stretching up to squeeze him back. “Thank you for a great night--”

“Come on.” I repeat, tilting my head and tugging Noble away at the bend in his arm. 

Vinny briefly leaves her with some kind of murmured message at her ear before they pull apart. 

“Bye Vinny,” Noble calls out while I roll my eyes. 

Vinny turns down the street and the three of us head inside the hotel.

***

“No, you can’t.” Noble doubts me. 

I pull open the bathroom door and let the light there filter into the otherwise dark bedroom. He stands beside the bed, the both of us undressed to t-shirts and boxers. He concentrates on his phone until music starts to float from the speaker on the nightstand.

“I can too,” I insist from the other side of the doorway. I shake my toothbrush and replace it on the rim of the sink before giving my face a quick glance in the mirror to slide my hand across my jawline.

“I’ve got like, twenty pounds on you,” he reasons. “And what, three inches?”

Turning, my brows pull together and I look at him like I’m offended. “What?” I scoff. 

He spreads his hands as he comes closer. “You’re supposed to say in all the right places.”

Smacking the bathroom light off, I approach him in the bedroom. “I can too. You think I grew up with two brothers and never learned how to powerbomb somebody.”

“Something tells me you were the one being powerbombed.”

“Well yeah,” I laugh and then point to him. “But don’t doubt my size, man.”

“Oh, I don’t. I doubt my own size because I eat a lot of bread--”

“I’d do a fireman’s carry,” I start. “Over the shoulder. Power drop. Finisher.”

“Let’s see it--”

Lunging for him, I grab onto his forearm before dropping to one knee. I shoot my arm between his legs, urging him to fall over my shoulder.

“No-no-no--” Noble protests before he cackles his loud laugh and I start to lift him off the ground. “Holy shit, dude!” His voice almost cracks he’s laughing so hard.

I balance him there across my shoulders as I get to my feet, grounding myself. Jostling him a little, I bounce him up once just to freak him out.

“How are you doing this?” He cries out. “Oh my god.”

“You thought I couldn’t pick you up,” I explain. “Watch, this is some Jake the Snake shit. Ready?”

“No!” He keeps laughing through his panic and I have to chuckle with him while I maneuver my way closer to the bed.

“How many inches have you got on me?” I question him.

“None!” He calls out.

“Huh?”

“I’ve got nothing on you, man.”

I tilt him over, leaning with him until I flip him to the bed and he lands hard on his back. Following in close on my knees, I can’t resist a fakeout elbow drop to his chest before I collapse at his side. “You okay?” I smile through my breathless question.

“Yes. In my adult life, I don’t think anyone’s ever picked me up,” he tells me as he shifts to prop himself up on his side. 

“Yeah, well you challenge me like that and that’s what happened.”

“Can you teach me how to do that?”

“Yeah, we’ll work on it.”

Moving a leg over my thigh, he slides on top of me. “You’re a real sneaky badass and I’m into it.” 

Grasping the sides of his head, I lift up a little to touch my mouth to his. But he easily sinks into me, crawling over and he settles there, letting his weight pin me to the bed with a heavy let’s-get-fucking-lost kiss. It feels so damn good beneath him, the slow rock of my hips as they lift against his.

I push up the sides of his t-shirt and he ducks out of it before I toss it to the floor. He does the same for me, urging me upright to pull mine off before we collapse once again on top of the covers. 

My hands skate up the broad plane of his back, over taut curves of smooth muscle and I hold him to me. It’s like I need the pressure of him in order to release all of the tension I hold onto.

Eventually his mouth pulls away from mine and he dips his head, nudging beneath my jaw to touch a slow, warm kiss to my throat.

With a lazy stretch, I appreciate him there. I curl my fingers in his messy hair, then angle my head to watch as he moves lower.

“We need to be quiet, huh?” I slant a smile at him in the darkness. “We probably sounded crazy as shit just then.”

He chuckles. “I don’t care. The door’s locked. Let her think you’re pounding me like a fucking savage.”

“God,” I say in an amused exhale. “You’re such a fucking sleaze and you wish.”

He laughs at my accusation. “Well alright then be quiet.” Glancing up from underneath thick eyelashes, he lowers his mouth to my waist and presses his lips there.

“Well I didn’t mean--”

“Ah--” He stops me as he grips the edge of my underwear and starts to inch it down. “You’re quiet.”

I pinch my lips together as I look at him, already tilting into him as he slips my hard-on from my boxers. 

Easily he gets rid of them before he strokes a loose fist up my shaft and positions his knees on either side of my leg.

A sharp inhale draws into my chest when I feel the warmth of his tongue. It drags along the head of my dick, slowly consuming me as I arch my neck and let my eyes fall shut at the sensation.

He dips lower, I sink further into the heat of his mouth. I reach down and run a hand up the back of his head remembering his instructions to stay quiet but, ah fuck. The praise escapes me anyway in an airy whisper

I groan in approval when his hand wraps around my cock. He gets it slick with his tongue and guides my length further between his perfect lips. “Oh my god. Fuck yes.” I breathe the words as I push my head back against the bed.

Slowly, he releases me but still teases the ridge of my dick with the tip of his thumb. “What happened to being quiet?”

I sigh, my chest lifting with a heavy breath. “I am.”

“Shh--” He warns me before that hot mouth slips around me once more.

Suppressing a gravelly moan, my chest tightens. But who am I fucking kidding if I think I can restrain the noises, the desperate encouragement and pleas that threaten to escape me?

I feel him come closer, pushing his shoulder beneath my thigh as he urges one leg to bend beside his head. His other hand is there, running a palm hard up my inner thigh and down underneath my hip.

God, I love it when he’s all over me like this, massaging my balls, teasing between my asscheeks with a fingertip. The slow bob of his head owning me completely.

“Oh please, please.” I barely whisper the begging request. I don’t even know if it’s for him or the universe or what but fuck I want it so bad. “God, Noble, make me come,” I murmur, tilting my chin up, my mouth falling open with a hard shaky breath. “Don’t stop.”

With a low, aroused groan, he shifts, pulling off of me just enough to whisper a throaty god damn of his own before his mouth descends again. His wet fist strokes the length of me while he parts the cheeks of my ass with his other hand.

I can’t contain a desperate moan and I let one arm fall across my mouth. The tease of his fingertip while he just fucking works me with his other hand is making my head spin. It’s been a while since he’s given me head like this. Everything he does to me sends me over the edge, but this drives me there in its own intense, skillful way. It’s hard to compete with its unraveling effect on me.

My core clenches. Hard exhales twitch my abs and I have to squeeze my mouth shut once more before I get loud. The sounds of my near-climax just growl inside me, hot and barely controlled.

Yes, yes yes, ohh just like that. I’m gonna come. I don’t even know if I say it out loud or not.

When it overtakes me, I know I call out this rusty, rough groan. My brain doesn’t catch up in time to muffle it somewhere. I struggle to restrain my breath as my muscles contract, again and again with an orgasm that keeps its grip on me longer than I expect it to.

Finally, my sighs shift to a quiet laugh when his mouth tickles the overly sensitive head of my cock. I flinch there on my back and sit up to look at him. “Oh my god, okay okay--” I chuckle. 

Chest heaving, I flop back down, panting deep as I try to blink the room back into focus. “Oh my god,” I murmur absently.

Noble moves away for a moment while I just lay there and recover. The idle downbeat from his music helps to temper the rush of my pulse as my breath subconsciously begins to match it.

Soon, the bed dips with his weight beside me. He starts to pull the covers down and I lift my hips to settle in with him. Freezing outside but warm and relaxed in this bed, it feels so good with him, to wear nothing underneath these sheets and feel him up against me.

He simply lets a little amused twitch pull at his lips. I trail fingertips along the wave of hair at his forehead and manage a calming breath. My enamored gaze catches his and something about the wordless look from him as he hovers a whisper away from my lips makes my throat clench. 

The way I can tell how bad he wants me in the glow of his eyes is such a damn turn on. He dips toward me, rests his forehead against mine and eases in closer. 

We fall into one another, long lingering kisses that heat up with need in the dark. My hands rake through his hair. His coast up my side and down my thigh before I slide my leg open. Beneath the covers, he moves on top of me once more.

So much time is spent just feeling, immersed in the stroke of hungry mouths, stung lips and the rise and fall of his solid form against my own. 

The pressure of his hard-on against my hip begs for me and I reach down to grasp him there. A choppy exhale that I feel across my lips rushes out of him. 

Our touches get the other ready, still unspoken, relying on our other senses to direct us. Pausing an easy moment for the condom he had waiting nearby, we’re back into it. From beneath him, I slink further onto my back and urge him inside of me, slow but fuck, so intense when he fills me like this.

My mouth parting, I arch my neck. A low groan is on the verge of cracking in my throat but Noble drops his forehead there and hisses and breathy Shhh… across my skin.

I just exhale hot instead, picking my head up to find his mouth. 

He sighs hard into my kiss, tugging for control I’m not quite willing to give up. I need him to just take it. His hand wraps around my forearm, squeezing hard before he slaps it to the bed. Pinning it there beside my head, he straightens his arm and drives himself deeper inside me.

I gasp to swallow new air, my chest burning, a heavy exhale leaving me. Shamelessly, I offer up my other arm, bending at the elbow beside the pillow.

He grasps that wrist, a hard pressure there that makes me all his. Then he loosens his grip to slide his hand into mine. 

Rhythmic, panting breath mingling, we ride each other like that until I can feel his urgency start to build. He lets go of my arms and I hold him to me. The tension gripping him, he chokes on an airy whimper and comes -- hard and relentless -- until he’s completely broken.

[turning-the-kaleidoscope]

“Words Fail”

this was written for @physical-manifestation-of-spite ’s Dead Sea AU, which is absolutely heartbreaking and has decked me more than once. it breaks my heart i just,,, jdkflgdfg wow it breaks my heart. so much so that i was really inspired to write this lil something. 

thank you for the heartbreaking AU!! i don’t know how well this turned out but i tried my best, I hope you like it!! <3 <3 

[major character death ahead, just in case anyone’s sensitive to that]

Frankly, Reigen never expected to get this far.

He never expected to be able to become someone. To become a businessman. To become a person motivated by something more than “boredom.” And when he got into the psychic business, he knew it was only a matter of time before he, the most non-esper person you could ever meet, was struck down by more than he could handle. Death was just another walk through the park. It’d never scared him because he’d never had anything to lose.

He has things to lose, now.

He has everything to lose.

The blast is so bright that it blinds Mob’s face from him, but not before he sees the kid’s eyes, blown wide as realization sets in, hand outstretched, mouth open. There’s no shout, no scream. Or maybe there is and the explosion is drowning it out. Hell if he knows.

He feels the heat of it first, burning and then overwhelming, until it chokes the air from his lungs and winds smoky tendrils around his throat. Somewhere, distantly, he feels the pain of it. Burning like the sunset as he and Mob headed down sidewalks to their favorite ramen shop after a long day of work. The smoke makes his eyes burn, too, like they’d burned when Mob accepted him as who he was, who showed him that he was somebody. That he was enough. Not perfect, but. Enough.

He wants to speak but the burn sucks the air from his crushed lungs and the words get stuck on the heat in his throat. He wants to say it’s not your fault, but there’s so much pressure, so much heat, so much chaos that he’s barely thought the words before they’re replaced with a much closer, much more real kind of pain.

He can’t tell who’s screaming, himself or Mob.

He wants to apologize.

The one time he thinks his words might actually mean something, he finds he can’t speak at all.

It’s one of those things.

One of those things you have a list for, but don’t realize you have a list for. One of those things that’s so inconceivable that the thought of it happening had never once crossed Mob’s mind. One of those things where you don’t think, “Oh, that could never happen,” until it actually happens and you’re thrown headfirst into denial.

One of those things is happening, now, and Mob’s heart climbs into his throat, slowly at first and then all at once. The flames burn the air bright and fill the room with smoke. Distantly, he hears Touichirou’s voice, though he can’t make out the words. He’s on his feet but he doesn’t remember how he got there.

The blast dims and disappears and Reigen’s body hits the floor like a broken marionette.

A beat passes in silence.

“Sh… Shishou?”

Another beat passes.

“Sh-Shishou, I-I--”

“Do you understand, now? The difference between us?”

Touichirou’s voice seems to come from far away. The rest of the world rings and spins. The ground buzzes like a plucked bass string.

“What do you gain by caring for others? All they are is a weak spot in your side. A vulnerability.”

“Reigen-san?” He can barely hear his own voice. It doesn’t sound like him. The body on the floor doesn’t look like Reigen’s, either. Reigen would never be that still, that quiet. “R-Reigen-san--”

“You can give it up now, boy. Nothing you do now will bring him back.”

“I’ll teach you how to use your powers.”

It clicks into place. Slowly, then too fast. The gravity of what just happened runs to slam into him. It grabs him by the throat and forces him to look closer. To realize.

Something twists and snaps in him. He isn’t sure what it is. It could be his heart and he wouldn’t care.

[ A N G E R ]

He doesn’t remember when he got to his feet. His body doesn’t feel like his own. He has no thoughts. The floor beneath him doesn’t feel like anything.

[ G U I L T ]

Through a tunnel, he sees Touichirou’s empty eyes and empty face with empty features and an empty heart. He sees a monster. He sees a murderer.

[ R A G E ]

Distantly he hears Reigen’s voice. Those words--that warning--words he lived by. Words he always held close to his heart. Reigen wouldn’t want him to do this. Reigen wouldn’t want him to do this. Reigen wouldn’t want him to do this.

Reigen isn’t here, anymore.

[ Ṛ̗̥̰̙A̧̠̖̻G̪Ę͖̺̠̟͚ ̞̀R̛̠E̳G̷̩̞RE̱̳T̖̥̦̝̖ ̼̦P͇̩͚̯̯̲̬A̛I̯̞͈̤̮N͚͎̱̮͞ ̼̱̫̘G̘̹̺U̡I̧̗̯̰͖̳ͅLT͎̣̬͍̼͘ ̣̣͙̩͠B̮̠L̠̣̰̣̦̗A̛̭͔͉̳̙M͕͚͉̭̲͉̙̕E҉̱̮̦͉͔͉͔ ͔̬͚̬̬ͅḪ̺̰̦̖̞U̘̫͉͚̙̯R̮̰͔̝̠T̞̝͉̤̮̹ ̣̬̜̦̼̮̖F̞̰̣̀E͕À͕̙̖Ŗ̭͎̞̲̤̰ P̵̲̯A̞̖͖͉̬̥I̪͕͚̟̟Ņ͚̣̠̤̥̣͔ ͓G̴̼̮̪U̢͉̲͇I͈̻L̰T̷̥͎̟̺̤ ̞̭̼͕̠̱PA̗̺͎̭̼̲ͅI͎̩͉̙̟̮N͓͚̣͇͢ ̺̳̣̹̤̜̰A̧N͔G̱̟͙͚̟͘Ṳ̦͘I̜̦̘͈̻S͓H̜̥̖ ̱̺̠À͈̗̺͚N̹͇̮̯̠̦͢G͢U͇͔̫̜̱̻̠͞I̲̰̫̘S͓̦H̗̦͈̝̺ ͇̼̞̟̙̺̭̀A̼̙̺͓̝̗̝Ǹ̙̳͖̪͖G̱̳̭͍̺͙̤U̠͍͕̭̣̳̣I͎S̠̜͓H̢͔ Ḥ̶̬A͇̻͙͓̺T̞̹̭̩̼͈̻R̠̤̩̝̹͢ͅE̥D̬ ͚̯̺̗̰̹H͕̠̟̙͜Á̬̰̞̰̫͓T̶̤̳̫R̠̥͖͎̦E̸̮̯̦͖̞̝̜D͓̫̼̣̥ ̦H̯̞̠̫͔͢A̘̠̭Ț̢̞̳͍̰̲ͅR̯͔̱Ȩ͈̯̝̙D͕͚̮̖͖ ̻̘͎̫̖͎̕H̱A͎̯͙̙͙͚̱T͟R̵͖̩̭E̩̤͓͠D̨̩̤͍̣ ̜̫H̝̹̺͓͝ͅA͚̤̣̲̲̼̥T͢R͉̥̱̙̙̟̮E҉̱̬̮D̯̟͎̯̣͈͖͟ ]

The world as he knows it explodes and burns, and he explodes and burns with it.

Shigeo is missing.

He never came to the office that day, when he’d been there consistently for the past three months. Upon inquiry, Ritsu couldn’t tell Serizawa much of anything, but there was something distant about the look in his eyes, like he should’ve said something but really didn’t want to. Serizawa asked a couple others he knew, but their answers were more or less the same.

No one knows where Shigeo is.

And, it’s that reason that leads Serizawa to the one place where he knows he’ll find him. On a high, grassy hillside, dying rays of sun stretched like shining ribbons across rolling fields. It’s close enough to the ocean to smell the salt in the air, feel a cool breeze, but its crashing waves can’t be heard from here. There’s only quiet.

Shigeo is sitting before a stone shrine, its shadow cast over him with the sun behind it. He’s wearing a hoodie and jeans instead of his uniform. The breeze caresses his messy hair. His knees are drawn up to his chest and his arms are wrapped around them.

Serizawa stops short but close enough, silent. Shigeo doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t, either.

“... I, um…”

Shigeo’s voice is small, and it cracks on the end. He takes a second before starting up again.

“I-I’m sorry I haven’t… visited, yet. I-I meant to, I promise, I j--” He stops short again, this time squeezing his knees closer to his chest and resting his head against them. “... I’m sorry. I… I thought about this for… for a long time. Before coming here. But, now, I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

Serizawa tries to swallow the lump in his throat with little success. He feels like he should do something, say something, but can’t find a single thing worth saying.

“... I-I guess, I should… I should probably say thank you,” Shigeo manages, struggling. Serizawa can’t see his face, and he’s not sure he wants to. “Thank you for… f-for everything. I don’t think I’d be who I am now, without you. I-I don’t think I would’ve gotten as far as I did. S-So… I just…”

The wind is cool, but the setting sun casts warmth through the grassy fields, and there’s no mistaking it.

“... I-I hope you realized it. How much you did for me. H-How much you did for everyone you met. I hope you--” Voice breaks. He takes a shaky breath. “I-I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re at peace. A-And, I hope--I-I hope you realize how much you mean to all of us. How much we all love you.”

The lump in Serizawa’s throat is choking him, now. But before he can say anything, Shigeo hauls himself to his feet, eye-level with the inscription of Reigen Arataka carved into the face of the shrine. The wind blows a little stronger, but somehow, warmer.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Shigeo says, a promise. “I-I’ll… I’ll come back whenever I can. I-I’ll bring flowers next time, I-I think. D… Do you like flowers? I…”

Serizawa holds his breath and moves forward, drawing closer, until the distance between them is no more and he can reach out and settle a hand, cautiously, on Shigeo’s shoulder.

Shigeo flinches, and his head snaps around, wide eyes meeting Serizawa’s. It strikes Serizawa for a moment, that he might’ve been expecting someone else, but he pushes that thought away as far as it goes and squeezes his shoulder.

The panic ebbs from Shigeo’s eyes, and he turns his gaze toward his shoes. Serizawa can’t see his face again, but there’s the slightest of trembles beneath his hand.

“... I’m sure he would like anything you brought him, Shigeo.”

Shigeo swallows hard, bringing an arm to wipe at his eyes. “You think so?”

“I do.” He squeezes his shoulder again. “No, I know he would.”

A silence falls between them, broken only by the rustle of grass as the wind cards its fingers through it. Serizawa isn’t quite sure how long they stand there, but soon the sun is gone and it takes its warmth with it, leaving the chill of night in its wake.

“... Come on, Shigeo. I’ll walk you home.”

Shigeo is already nodding, wiping at his eyes again, and Serizawa squeezes his shoulder one last time before lowering his hand and turning away. Shigeo lingers a moment longer before jogging to flank him.

“Can…” Shigeo’s voice doesn’t break this time. “Can we come back again tomorrow?”

A tight smile tugs at Serizawa’s cheeks. “Of course we can, Shigeo. First thing.”

Shigeo nods and Serizawa turns away.

It might’ve just been his imagination, but he thought he felt a warm touch on his shoulder as they drifted further from the shrine. He turned to see if, perhaps, it was Shigeo, but no. Shigeo was, however, reaching to touch his own shoulder with a faint, broken kind of smile.

The warmth accompanies them through the darkness and all the way home.

[yourpharma360]

How Ambien Works ?

The Ambien defense was also utilized in the event of Julie Ann Bronson, a flight attendant from Texas.  Bronson took a few Ambien to help her sleep.  She went to bed early, and was drinking wine earlier in the afternoon.  She awakened in jail, still in her pajamas, barefoot and terrified.  She was horrified when she had been told that she had run such as an 18-month-old woman who suffered severe brain damage as a result of the mess.  "It was surreal.  It was just like a bad dream."  In May of 2012, Bronson pleaded guilty to the felonies of intoxication assault and failure to stop and render aid.  "I did the crime but I never planned to do it," she testified.  "I wouldn't hurt a flea.  And if I would have hit on somebody, I'd have stopped and helped.   Ten decades bronson faced, but as a result of this Ambien defense, she will serve six months in prison and have ten years of probation.

What is Ambien 10mg 

It was only in Patrick Kennedy's 2006 middle-of-the-night vehicle accident and explanation to arriving officers that he had been running late to get a vote the eccentric side effects of Ambien began to receive national attention.  Kennedy claimed the sleeping aid had been obtained by him and had no recollection of those events and Buy Ambien Online Overnight .

On March 29, 2009, 45, Robert Stewart, stormed to the Pinelake Health and Rehab nursing home in Carthage, North Carolina and opened fire, killing eight people and wounding two.  Stewart target was his estranged wife, who was employed as a nurse.  She hid in a bathroom and was unharmed.   Though there was evidence that Stewart's actions were premeditated (he allegedly had a target), Stewart's defense team successfully argued that since he was under the effect of Ambien, a sleep aid, at the time of the shooting, he was not in control of his activities.  Instead of the fees Stewart was convicted on eight counts of second-degree murder.  142 -- 179 years was received by him.

Ambien Overdose

As a result of this Schweigert verdict, an attorney used the Ambien defense by asserting his client's arrest had been shifted six months following by the drug's labeling to overturn a 2006 DWI conviction for a New Jersey woman.  The court agreed, stating it would be an"injustice to hold her accountable for the side effects of a popular and readily available medication that she was lawfully prescribed and properly handled." Not many prosecutors will consider the Ambien defense, and its position within criminal rules that are established is tenuous.  It doesn't actually fall under"voluntary intoxication," in which somebody is responsible for their intoxication and some other events that happen as a consequence of that intoxication.  The Ambien defendants took the medication, but they weren't aware they were drugging themselves in a means that could produce anything other.   The defendants knowingly took the medicine, because they're recorded as potential side effects in the information, and also the responses weren't unpredictable.  In the end, there's the"unconsciousness/sleepwalking" defense, where the individual is not responsible for the crime if he did not intentionally cause the sleepwalking or unconsciousness.  So that this defense does not really apply the whole motivation for taking Ambien at the first area is to create unconsciousness.

Ambien 5mg vs Ambien 10mg

After its approval, Ambien Dose rose to dominance in the sleep aid industry.  Travelers declared by it to fight jet lag, and girls, who suffer more insomnia purchased it.  Sanofi, the French manufacturer of Ambien, made $2 billion in earnings in its summit.  In 2007 Ambien's generic version was published, Zolpidem, and in less than $2 a tablet, it remains among the most prescribed medications in the usa, outselling painkillers such as prescription and Percocet strength ibuprofen. Not everyone who engages in bizarre behavior of accepting Ambien as a result ends up in trouble.  And a few people today enjoy the large they get from the drug so much they are willing to miss the blackouts and effects that result.  Recreational users started out taking the drug to treat insomnia, but discovered that if they fought the sleep-inducing effect of the drug, they could get really high.  "It's like having that drink in the pub when you realize you need to go home -- I would combat the pill's effects and stay up, often telling my friends mad things like how to turn the light inside the room in energy, or the way that paintings of forest scenes in their walls were actually drawings of mermaids bathing themselves into blood," writes one young woman whose dependence on Ambien caused increasingly bizarre and alienating behavior.  She continued staying awake regularly until one morning she awakened with a cut and two black eyes across her nose and taking the pill.  Her cushions were bloody, and a stranger was, wrapped in a rug, on her floor and naked.   This situation jarring, was not sufficient to get her to give Ambien up; the high was too good.   It wasn't until she was discovered wandering the Brooklyn streets in the middle of the night, almost nude, that she managed to give it up.

Guideline For Ambien 10mg 

Ironically, you are likely to succeed with the Ambien defense should you injure or kill someone than if you crash into a car or a tree.  DWI laws just need the prosecution to show that the defendant got and was loaded into a vehicle to drive.  There's no requirement.  When someone is hurt, nevertheless, it is up to the prosecutor to demonstrate that the suspect was conscious enough to become guilty of the crime.  It's hard to claim that they have knowledge of their actions, if people on Ambien are behaving in an automatic, or unconscious state.  That's why people prefer Lindsey Schweigert get permits while Donna Neely, that was sleep-driving on Ambien and murdered a mother of 11, was acquitted of vehicular manslaughter. Tiger Woods was also famously associated with Ambien when one of his mistresses claimed that she and the golfer could have"crazy Ambien sex"  Ambien reduces inhibitions and erases memories, an perfect combination for someone who's cheating on his spouse.  The buzz created by the drug seems to boost sex.  One girl described feeling"quite relaxed and sensuous" when she had sex on Ambien.  "I suddenly have floaty energy.  .  I am tired, but lively.  It's almost like I'm at a state.  I could compare it somewhat to weed, but nothing I've done really contrasts, in all honesty."

Ambien is one of the best dose 

Lindsey Schweigert took one Ambien Sleeping Pills  prior to getting into bed at 6pm.  She woke up with no idea how she'd gotten there.  In the following weeks, Schweigert pieced together the events of the night.  She'd gotten out of bed, drawn a tub, and left the house.  After leaving her house she began driving to a local restaurant but crashed shortly.  She was explained by police as glassy-eyed and swaying.   The flipside to Ambien's supposed attributes is the fact that it's becoming increasingly used as a date rape drug.  Actually, the single case of"sleep-sex" that appeared at an 2008 medical journal review of case reports on Ambien-related sleep behaviors involved the Ambien taker being raped.  The identical absence of inhibition together with amnesia which makes it possible for people indulge in behavior that is dishonest, to commit offenses, and also have sex on Ambien is an ideal formulation for a sexual predator.  Ambien is also readily accessible and more widely accessible than rohypnol, the drug related to date rape.

Ambien Overnight 

Schweigert had.  She had never been in trouble with the law and was scared of losing her job and having a criminal record.  Prosecutors initially wanted to inflict a six month jail sentence as well as other punishments, but Schweigert's lawyer contended that Lindsey's bizarre behaviour on the night in question was a result of a drug which cautioned right on the tag that"After taking AMBIEN, you may get up from bed whilst not being completely awake and perform an activity that you do not understand you are doing.   In fact, the attorney argued, Schweigert must have been taken to jail, not to a hospital.  Prosecutors dropped the charges and enabled Lindsey to plead to the lesser charge.  

Shortly Ambien users resisted Sanofi because of eccentric behaviours while.  Based on attorney for the class action suit, Susan Chana Lask, folks were eating things like buttered eggs and cigarettes, complete with all the shells, while under the sway of Ambien.   He blames Ambien, but for lapses in his memory within five decades and an extended period of writer's block.  "...a great deal of my memory is gone.  If you've ever taken Ambien, I don't know, but it's kind of a memory-eraser.  This shit wiped out five decades of my life.  People might tell me stories, and it's like,"I did that?"   Eminem has maintained a few of his writing from this period, confessing to Rolling Stone that"It fucking out me...Letters all down the page -- it was like my hands weighed 400 pounds.  I have that shit.  As a reminder that I don't ever wish to go back."

Final Words

A part of the category of drugs known as hypnotics, ambien, was accepted by the FDA in 1992.  It was designed for short-term use to fight insomnia and was a welcome change in the prevailing sleep aid at the moment, Halcion, which had been implicated in psychosis, suicide, and addiction and had been banned in half a dozen countries.  Ambien works by activating the neurotransmitter GABA and binding it at precisely the exact same place as the benzodiazepines such as Xanax and Valium.  The extra GABA action triggered by the drug inhibits.  To put it differently, the brain is slowed down by it.  Ambien is effective at initiating sleep working within 20 minutes.  Unless it's taken in the release type, it does not, however, have an impact on sustaining sleep.

[lxveille]

posture

mingyu x reader

word count: ~ 1950 warnings: alcohol, profanity, mild jealousy a/n: tall!reader, bc one can only read about members towering over mcs so many times. and also vee encouraged me. blame her.

You lean into the bar to order another drink. For a moment, you consider adding a shot on top of it. It only takes another glance out to the dance floor for you to think fuck it, and tack a tequila to end of your order before telling him the name of your open tab.

With a nod from the bartender, you stand back up straight and tap your nails against the bartop. The mood you’re in is hardly the one you’d intended to have when you were getting ready to go out tonight. Only half an hour ago, even, things had still felt as good when you’d first headed out.

The tequila shows up in front of your first, and you take it with a half-hearted cheers directed towards one of the strangers on bar stools you’d squeezed yourself in between. With the empty glass back the glossy wood of the bartop, you turn to look back out at the crowd. Looking out over the heads in the crowd, it’s easy enough for you to spot where the friends you came with are. Most of them are still gathered around the floor-side table the lot of you had claimed upon coming in. Except, of course, for Mingyu, who is still tucked into the middle of the dance floor with one hand on the hip of the girl he’s flirting with. He’s practically doubled over in order to talk into her ear over the loud music. You can’t help but roll your eyes and wish you’d doubled down on tequila.

There’s no reason for you to be jealous. Mingyu is your friend. Your funny, kind, handsome friend you have a huge, blistering crush on. And one of the rare guys in your social circle you consider to be in your dateable height range. But just your friend, all the same. So what if you were hoping the right song would come on tonight for you to make a move on him tonight? So what if you’d had intentionally chosen a dress he’d complimented once before?

“--- for those?”

“Huh?” You manage to make it sound like a curse word as you turn your head towards the voice. It’s the guy you’d vaguely directed your tequila at before downing it. He points towards the empty shot glass and the fresh cocktail in front of you and leans in towards you to repeat himself.

“Did you already pay for those?”

You look him over before rolling your eyes. “Yeah, they’re on my tab.”

“Maybe I can buy the next round?” he suggests. Some part of you says you could give this guy a chance; either to get your mind off how Mingyu’s probably only a line away from making out with that girl or to hope he’ll look over and see. But from the way you already stand more than a head over the stranger and how comfortably his legs dangle over the floor from his perch on the stool, you suspect he’d take back the offer as soon as he stood up.

“I’m good,” you shout over the music, and grab your glass to head back over to your friends. Making your way through the crowd, you hold your drink up over the swaying shoulders and heads of those already dancing and remind yourself not to look the direction you last saw Mingyu in.

It comes as a surprise, then, when you get back to the table and find Mingyu back with his own beer and seemingly deep in conversation with Soonyoung again. As if he hadn’t been out on the dance floor at all. You take a hefty sip out of your glass.

“I thought you were going to the bathroom?” Minkyung asks once she spots that you’ve returned. She’s halfway through her own drink, plastic straw stained by her lipstick and a few guys at the table over from you gawking obviously at her.

“I did,” you answer, “And then I got more to drink.” She sends a knowing glance towards Mingyu and then looks back at you with a sympathetic smile.

“Clearly, it didn’t work out for him,” she says, leaning into your shoulder, “You could still shoot your shot.”

You sigh and tilt your head to rest on top of hers. “What’s the point? He’s clearly into tiny girls.”

“Do you think his back ever hurts from bending down to their level?” Minkyung asks with feigned sincerity. It succeeds in drawing a laugh out of you, nearly risking spilling part of your drink when you sway away from her. She gives you a grin, though there’s a tinge of embarrassment on her face at her own words.  Soonyoung turns around at the sound of your laughter cutting over the booming bass.

“What’s funny?” he asks, with the kind of eager curiosity for everything that comes entirely too quickly to him after only one drink.

It must be the tequila that motivates you to answer, “We’re just pondering whether or not Mingyu’s gonna give himself a permanent backache with the girls he hits on.” Soonyoung blinks, lips parting around a question he can’t quite seem to form. Behind him, Mingyu’s attention seems to have perked up -- though with enough confusion on his face for you to suspect he’d only just made out his name.

He takes the few steps needed to put himself in talking range with you and asks, “What?”

As if it took him saying that one word for you to even realize what you’ve said, you look over to Minkyung with mild panic. She shrugs and waves her free hand towards the two guys in a way that seems to say this is on you. Sure enough, Soonyoung is already repeating back your statement to Mingyu.

His brows crinkle and he looks quickly between you and Minkyung before apparently deciding to settle upon you as the main culprit.

“What’s that supposed to even mean?” Mingyu questions.

You bring your glass up to your lips, like the right answer could be found in liquor. Or least as a stall tactic.

“Did Soonyoung hear you right?” he asks instead of repeating himself, centering himself in front of you as Minkyung tries to make grabbing Soonyoung’s wrist and dragging him away from the two of you something subtle.

“Depends. What’d Soonyoung say?” You tap your nails against the side of your cup, keeping your drink only a few inches away from your mouth as if it were shield.

Mingyu hesitates, unsure if you’re playing oblivious or genuinely unsure. “Something about me fucking up my back…?” he decides to give into it either way.

Something in hearing him say it makes you smile, nearly giggling, in spite of what might be left of your better judgement. “Well, I mean, it’s not wrong with the way you have to slouch over for some girls.”

“Since when do you care about my spine’s health?”

There’s something purely strange with the universe that Kim Mingyu is asking you that at half past midnight in the middle of a bar blasting dance songs. And if the look on his face is any sign, he’s just as aware of that fact as you. Your mind traces back your earlier thoughts of just how little this night was playing out as you’d hoped.

“I’m just saying, like… It’d be better for your posture to pick on somebody your own size,” you find yourself saying.

Mingyu smiles -- possibly even chuckles, but it’s difficult to tell over the music. “People say that about fighting people, you know.” It’s a fair point, you know. It’s also, you decide, entirely the alcohol’s fault that you’d used that expression to begin with. Or least the alcohol’s fault that you’re saying any of this to him at all. Though if his tone is anything to go off of, at least Mingyu isn’t as annoyed by your commentary as you’d first feared he’d be.

You shrug one shoulder and take another drink from your glass before setting it down on the table behind you. “Whatever. You get the point.” With any luck, it sounds disinterested rather than bitter.

He looks skeptical. And then, he turns to look over his shoulder at the crowd on the dance floor. His eyes come back to yours, and he gives a slight shrug that feels like reflection of your own facade of indifference. “It’s not like there’s always a whole lot of options for girls I’m not a giant to, you know.”

Frustration threatens to bubble over inside you and have you saying something entirely too obvious. (Something perhaps along the lines of ‘I, you absolute fool, am right fucking here’). The booze has you settling for doing something dumb and even more obvious.

You take a single step up to him and curl your fingers into the front of his shirt and tug him close enough to kiss. There’s a small sound of surprise from him in that split second between your hand on him and your lips meeting his. Or perhaps it was the start of a word that you’d cut off in your sheer determination to get him to recognize you as a goddamn option.

Before anxiety or regret can creep up on you, Mingyu’s hand finds its way to your waist. You lean into him a little more, your grip loosening on him in favor of gliding up to the back of his neck. He’s warm, with the taste of his beer filtering into the kiss as he pushes back closer to you. There’s a sweetness to it all the same -- though perhaps it was only lingering sugar from the rim on your drink.

You don’t fully register your moving feet until your back hits the edge of the table. For a moment, nothing could make you break away from him. But then there’s the unmistakable feeling of something wet seeping through the fabric of your dress. You one hand on Mingyu’s shoulder as you pull away from him and look back at the table. Sure enough, your drink has been knocked over along with someone else’s.

“Shit,” you blurt out, and turn to set the glasses upright and scan the table for napkins. Mingyu’s fingers squeeze at your hip as he peeks over your shoulder to see just what had interrupted the two of you.

“That’s your fault,” he declares suddenly. You turn your head sharply to give him a look of disbelief. He’s smiling. A self-satisfied, delighted smile that has you wanting to forget what he’d said and kiss him all over again. He moves closer to your ear and adds a little lower, “I’ll take care of it if you go close out your tab.”

It only gives you all the more reason to give him an incredulous look. He raises a brow at you, and his expression shifts to something better called a smirk. You give him one good look over before letting yourself smile and nod once. “We’ll get back to the whole fault thing, though,” you claim, pointing an accusatory finger his way.

Mingyu moves the hand on your waist up to catch your lifted hand, and uses it to pull you in for a second, briefer kiss. “Hurry up,” he murmurs to you as he breaks it off. It’s tempting to fire some stubborn remark back at him, but the look in his eyes makes you more inclined to go ahead with his plan of getting out her sooner rather than later.

This isn’t exactly how you planned this night on going. But at this point, you’re not about to wish it went any differently. Except, perhaps, for wishing you’d worked up the nerve to go ahead and grab him by the collar a little earlier.

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder Ch. 5

A/N: Oh, boy! I’ve personally been waiting on doing this chapter. There’s a bit of a curve ball in our favorite couple’s journey back together. If y’all thought y’all hated me in Chapter 1, then get ready for this chapter. 😘😘😘

Word Count: 2.2K

Warning(s): Slow burn, plot progression, few errors/typos

The months following Yaa’s most recent encounter with her ex-boyfriend left her more hurt and emotionally distant than before. She didn’t go out like she usually did; her nights out were substituted with take out and binge-watching movies and TV shows. She wasn’t as bubbly as she usually was. In an attempt to distract herself from her pain, she turned to her drug of choice: work. At any given moment, Yaa was more than likely working if she weren’t sleeping or eating. She took on a heavier workload and miraculously met success with the cases she worked on. As the year came to a close, Yaa had realized that her year had been trash. She lost the love of her life over some fuck shit and realized that her love life, if you could even call it that, was a joke.

Everyone around Yaa hated to see her in such a sad state. She’d said she was fine but everyone knew she was suffering. So much so, her family surprised her for Christmas in D.C. and stayed with her for a week. While the surprise visit definitely boosted her spirits, she continued working her frustrations out. She’d felt played—she’d allowed the supposed love of he life to take advantage of their relationship twice. She was physically, emotionally,and spiritually tired.

Her luck changed with a call from Tanisha one afternoon.

“Clear your schedule for New Year’s Eve: you got invited to the Black Gatsby soirée by Mr. Gatsby himself.”, Tanisha stated in a matter of fact.

Yaa took the phone away from her ear and stared at it, fully aware of Tanisha’s distant voice calling her name. “Girl, what?”

“You heard me. Mr. Gatsby has invited yo fine ass to the Black soirée on New Year’s Eve.”

“Mr. Gatsby? Bitch, you know he’s a fictional white character from a book,right? Not just any book—my favorite book. Francis Scott Fitzgerald would somersault in his grave if he knew a Black man was tryna play his character.”

Tanisha snorted. “I know. For the sake of anonymity, that’s what he’s referring to himself as. Just come to Cali and live ,bitch. I’m sick of seeing you all sad and overworked and shit. You deserve more; you’re 24 and full of life. Ring in the new year with a refreshing turn up. Live a little, bitch. I’ll be calling again this week to make sure you’re coming.” Beep beep beep.

Yaa spent the rest of that day thinking about what Tanisha said. Who was Mr. Gatsby? What did he want her ? Finding out his identity and his motives were the least of her worries. As rough as her year was, she deserved to party like it was 1922. Live a little, bitch.

———

Yaa spent the next month speculating who this Mr. Gatsby character could be. He’d sent many gifts On what would’ve been her and Winston’s first anniversary, Gatsby sent 3 dozen of her favorite roses— pink, white, and yellow— to her office with a note:

You deserve more today. Think not of what should be, but what is now.—JG

For Christmas, Gatsby sent Yaa a gold circle necklace with a single pearl dangling from the middle of the circle. Same note. These grandiose gestures left Yaa shook: she’d been out-extra’d by an anonymous admirer. She immediately ruled Winston out because he just wasn’t a frivolous spender and though he was being a fuck nigga at the moment, he was too humble to even think about doing all the things Gatsby had done for and sent her.

Tuesday, December 30, 2014, Malibu, California

Matt picked Yaa up from the airport per usual. On the way to Malibu, he picked Tanisha up as well. While en route to the house, Tanisha caught Matt up with the tea involving his ex-turned-best friend.

“Wait...so there’s a secret admirer...calling himself ‘Gatsby’...only communicates through Neesh...and is inviting you to a New Year’s party?! What the hell?”, Matt recalled.

“Well, I’ll say this: she knows who he is, but he’s not giving up his identity just yet.”, Tanisha suggested. Yaa’s neck whipped to look at Tanisha’s smirking face; she wasn’t lying.

“So, it’s not Wins? Confirmed?”, Yaa asked.

“I’m absolutely, positively certain it’s not Winston, sis. Buhlee dat!”, Tanisha assured.

Something told Yaa to check her mailbox. True, she didn’t have reasons to have mail after being away from her Malibu home for not even two months, but it never hurt to look. When she looked inside, she was met with a matte black envelope. The words “ Khalida Y.D. Abdullah, Esq.” were beautifully calligraphed on the front of the envelope in gold ink. She turned the envelope to see “JG” stamped in gold wax. Homeboy puttin’ in that work. Before she opened the envelope, she noticed a medium-sized box wrapped in a similar matte black wrapping paper.

“Boy, this nigga tryna gift you clean out yo draws, I see.”, Matt observed as he picked the box up for Yaa, scaring her.

“You sound a pinch jealous, Griff.”, Yaa teased.

Matt rolled his eyes, “Whatever. I gave you the world and a Super Bowl ring, woman. Remember that.”

“Correction: you gave me one of my two rings. Don’t play with me.”, she playfully snapped back, kissing his nose as he walked into the house with the box.

He gently sat the box in front of Yaa’s usual spot on her L-shaped sectional. Tanisha finally joined Matt and Yaa in the living room and took notice of Gatsby’s packages. Yaa kicked the box over on its side.

“The hell you do that for?!”, Tanisha demanded.

“Bitch, this coulda been a well packaged pipe bomb for all its worth.”, Yaa answered.

Tanisha wagged her finger at her best friend. “Somebody needs to ban Forensic Files from your Netflix queue.”

Yaa rolled her eyes as she began opening the envelope. Whoever was responsible for the letter was very abreast to detail. The letter was typed on a typewriter, a personal bonus for Yaa as she was the proud owner of a vintage typewriter.

Yaa--

By the time you read this letter, you will already be back in sunny California. Also, if you are reading this letter, then you have instinctively followed directions. In the box is a special gift for tomorrow night; I hope you enjoy them. Secondly, upon your and Ms. Holloway’s arrival, there will be two attendants escorting you to your VIP section. The people at the door will know exactly who are. When you go to coat check, ask the attendant for directions to “The Pit”. Upon your question, you’ll be taken to through the VIP entrance. Your access code word is bubbly. Can’t wait to see you.

JG

The Pit? That sounds familiar. Hella familiar. Yaa moved to the box. The matte black wrapping paper was too pretty destroy, but fuck it. Her eyes shot open when she saw silver strappy heels in the box. “Oooh, this’ll go perfectly with my dress for tomorrow!”, she yelled out. The turn-up countdown had commenced.

NEW YEAR’S EVE

Tanisha and Yaa had a sleepover and went straight into preparation mode for the evening when they woke up that afternoon. After getting their hair and makeup done, the two returned to Yaa’s house to change. “Sis, can you zip me up?”, Yaa yelled as she sashayed to the other side of the hall. Tanisha responded back that she was coming but then stopped and began to whistle at her best friend’s floor-length dusty rose gown. The embellishments gave the gown a modern Gatsby remix. She wore the silver shoes Gatsby sent. Her locs were styled into a curly chignon and accessorized with a pearl headpiece.

“My goodness, Yaa!”, Tanisha complimented.

“Why, thank you, old sport.”, the two shared a laugh.

Mr. Gatsby sent a 1921 Rolls Royce to Yaa’s front door. Mr. Collins drove the two friends to the party’s location--an art gallery? Mr. Collins wished the girls a good night and happy new year as he pulled off. “ AN ART GALLERY?!”, the two squeaked in unison.

The art gallery was like any modern art gallery: polished light hardwood floors, white walls, semi-dimmed lighting and enough colored canvases to stir up many a conversation. There was a lively gathering taking place in the gallery, making the journey towards the back of the gallery less suspicious. Yaa and Tanisha made a beeline to the back stairwell. Gatsby warned Yaa that there’d be a bodyguard armed with a riddle-like question that only she would know the answer to before they could go down descending flight of stairs, the pair was stopped by a bodyguard in a tailored suit.

“Wait a minute, ladies. You can’t go down there.”, the bodyguard bluntly stated. Before Tanisha could tell the bodyguard about himself, Yaa covered her mouth. “Gatsby knows who we are.”, Yaa assured. The bodyguard shook his head. “Suuure...tell me, Doc, how you want that pit beef sandwich?” How dare he challenge my trivia. “Medium rare, extra horseradish, dummy.” The guard nodded and let them pass.

After knocking on the dark door four times, it opened to a dimmer foyer. The coat check attendant, a bubbly young woman, turned to them. “Whatcha need, sweetheart?”, she asked taking a sip from her martini glass.

“Can you show me how to get to the Pit?”, Yaa asked. The attendant nodded her head towards the other coats, “Right this way”. The two friends walked behind the counter, where the attendant pointed into the coats.

“Happy new year, ladies”, the attended said as she pulled some of the fur coats away from each other, revealing a door and opening it.

The other side of the door was the rabbit hole to a fucking circus. Beautiful Black bodies donned their Cotton Club’s best. The biggest names in entertainment, sports, and music made this chocolate El Dorado their haven. The blue and purple backlights provided just enough light to highlight the various shades of melanin against their outfit. The guests on the dancefloor in an almost ritualistic unison to the musical drug the DJs hooked them onto. The two attendants escorted Yaa and Tanisha past the many 8-person tables full of people hypothesizing on who they thought Gatsby was.

Further down to the right was the bar. The purple backlit shelves displayed the finest and rarest spirits anyone could legally obtain. Scattered around the club were about 15 cigarette girls and hostesses distributing drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The pair had finally arrived to their VIP section: a semi-circle couch with a hookah on the small table, all cloaked underneath a sheer white canopy.

Everyone in attendance left their inhibitions and year-long worries at coat check. With the year Yaa had had, she deserved first dibs for dancefloor access. A wild break-up, major career moves,two emotional breakdowns and surviving her first year of practicing law summarized Yaa’s 2014. There was no way in hell she would go into 2015 and her 25th year of life stressed. Her longing to go on the dancefloor was finally satisfied when the DJ began playing The 2 Live Crew’s “Hoochie Mama”. The two friends gave each other the all-knowing, pre-ratchetry look before running out and strolling to one of their shared ratchet hymns. Yaa strolled her worries off; her smile widened the happier she got.

At the song’s end, the two laughed their way back to their section.

“Tonight has been too surreal and it’s just...10:19.”, Tanisha commented.

“It’s just 10:19?!”, Yaa whipped her phone out to confirm the time. It was now 10:20. But, there was also a message sent from Winston Duke about 45 minutes ago: “I wanna go into this New Year on a clean slate. Let’s talk over lunch. 1:30? Shoot me a suggestion or three.”

Before Yaa could internalize her ex’s text, she felt a physical presence looming over her. She was spooked by a medium-built, average height,brown-skinned brother with a fade. His black eyes were striking, yet welcoming. They reflected blue from the club lights.

“Dr. Abdullah?”, he inquired loud enough to be heard over the blaring music.

“Speaking?”, she answered back.

“Mr. Gatsby would like to see you now.” Yaa’s stomach nosedived into her back and her palms began to sweat.

“O-ok.”, she stood and began walking with the man.

Yaa was escorted through a door that led into a dark hallway. The hallway was dark except for the light that passed through the four frosted glass doors on either side of the hallway. At the very end of the hallway was a solid wood door. Yaa was let in by the man and was left alone in the modest office.

“Please, have a seat.”, a raspy yet familiar voice suggested. He continued his cell phone conversation. The back of the chair was towards Yaa.

“Yeah...right. Uh huh? Tell Cross I’m not taking an-y-thing less than 140. Oh, of cour—right. Well, my guest has finally arrived. Alright, give Erin my love. Yeah, happy new year to you and yours as well. Buh-bye.” He hung up the phone. “Forgive me and my inconsideration for your presence, Dr. Abdullah. People are really tryna conduct business with folks when there’s maybe two hours left in 2014. Damn, shame.”, he said reaching for the chilled bottle of Dom Perignon. Upon hearing his voice, Yaa nearly doubled over from shock; all the clues were coming together. Pit beef sandwiches? The Pit? No wonder everything sounded so familiar. It was Baltimore.

The gentleman finally stood up from out of his chair and sat on the desk, placing the glasses next to him and winking at Yaa. Suave ass negro. “I’m certain you’re surprised to see me.”

Her shoulders bounced as she chuckled to herself. “That, I am, Mr. Gatsby. Ooh, I’m killing Tanisha when I see her.”

The Tag List is the Bee’s Knees!

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @dramaqueenamby @oshasimone @destinio1 @teheeboo @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

[littlewerewolfsmutoven-blog]

Ready, Set, Focus

Explicit | 2,913 words | Power Dynamics | archive of our own

Summary: Scott doesn't have any grasp on how to control his newfound werewolf urges, including anger and lust. Derek offers up himself as a helpful solution.

Scott peddled hard, shoving his feet down against the resistance of his bike pedals whilst he veered through the dirt road of the Beacon Hills Preserve. His ferocious emotion boiled over—hot and heavy—fueling his motivation and unyielding anger as he continued alongside the road to the soot-covered bones of Derek’s old house.

Derek’s persistent interference into his life was grating. Scott just wanted to be a normal person, in a normal town, with a normal girlfriend. He wanted to forget about getting turned into a werewolf. Just a couple weeks ago, werewolves were a myth. But now, everything was fucked…and Derek was hellbent on sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Derek was hellbent on being the lasting reminder of what Scott wanted to ignore…and Scott was finished with it—he was finished with Derek.

“Derek!” Scott roared, hopping off of his bike. He tossed the metal down onto the wild weeds of Derek’s poor excuse for what some people would attempt to call a front lawn. “I know you’re in there! Step outside! You’re starting to piss me off even more!”

“Get pissed.” Derek mocked dryly from where the sun threw heavy shadows down onto the rickety porch of his ruined house. “It’ll help to prove my point.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you’re trying to prove.” Scott responded. “I want you to get the fuck out of my life and stay the fuck out of my life…for the rest of my life!”

Derek jumped off of the wooden porch and swaggered over to where Scott was angrily standing—fists balled up in an empty, childish display of weak anger. It made Derek want to roll his eyes and wave the entire situation away. But he couldn’t. It was more than clear that Scott needed some sturdy foundation for being a werewolf. And Scott’s lack of self-control and lack of logical thought was dangerous.

“Your temper—it’s going to get somebody killed.” Derek announced smugly, pointing his finger into the meat of Scott’s chest. “It could get your friends killed, it could get your little girlfriend killed, and it could get you killed.”

“Really—? Because I just want to let it get you killed.” Scott sneered, leaping forward into Derek’s sturdy frame.

Scott’s eyes flared bright beta yellow, his fangs and claws elongated, the hair on the sides of his face thickened, and he roared out—knocking Derek down into the dirt and dead grass. He clawed violently into the fabric of Derek’s shirt, ripping it into shreds, whilst trying to dig the sharpness of his claws into Derek’s chest.

Derek shifted, getting his legs underneath where the front of Scott’s body was pressed against his own, and then kicked the unskilled beta off of his muscle. He watched as Scott flew through the air—bashing into the thick wood of a tree with a pained cry. And as Scott picked himself up from the ground, even angrier than before, Derek calmly recollected himself, stood up, and dusted his torn clothes off.

“You’re out of control. You’re feral. You’re unpolished, unskilled, outmatched, and ignorant to what I’m supposed to teach you.” Derek clicked his tongue unsympathetically. “You need to channel your anger into something that can handle it—something that can drain you and send you on your way with a levelheaded mind.

Scott charged at Derek yet again, reaching out with his claws. However, Derek quickly dodged the attack and spun around—kicking harshly against Scott’s backside and watching the outraged beta collapse momentarily against the ground. Derek reached down and grabbed a fist full of Scott’s sweater fabric, hoisting the boy up into the air, and then dragging him into the shadowed husk of the Hale house.

Derek dropped Scott onto the dust-covered floorboards of the house’s charred foyer, clapping away the dirt from his own hands as he let Scott simmer. He beamed down towards the beta, focusing in on how Scott’s heartbeat refused to come down, how Scott’s pores continued to ooze out wrath, and how Scott blatantly continued to fight against words of advice.

“I’m – supposed – to – meet – Allison – tonight.” Scott growled, piercing his yellow gaze up into Derek’s blue. “

Derek scoffed. “And that’s your problem.”

“Allison isn’t a problem. You’re the problem!” Scott retorted.

Derek hovered over where Scott remained hunched over on the floor, nudging the boy’s rips with the bluntness of his leather boot, just enough to flip Scott over onto his back. He stared down at Scott’s heaving chest and glowing eyes. He analyzed the lines of anger that prominently creased on the skin of Scott’s sweat-beaded forehead. Derek was amazed at how unwilling to listen and learn Scott was.

“It’s hormones, dumbass.” Derek said, kneeling down so that one of his knees rested in-between Scott’s spread thighs. “You don’t think with your head, you think with your dick….and it’s going to keep fucking up your life until you learn how to separate the two.”

Scott roared out again, this time, kicking Derek away from his body. Derek flew into the air and smashed into the wooden door frame that had seemingly retained enough structural integrity through the fire; because Derek’s heavy body didn’t into shatter it into sawdust. Instead, Derek’s back hit against the solid wood—momentarily stunning him.

Derek shook the stars out of his dazed head, prepared to counter with another attack. But then, Scott lunged forward and pressed himself up against Derek’s body—pinning the two of them back against the wooden door frame. Derek waited for a moment to see what Scott was going to do or what he was going to say, but surprisingly blanketed the entire situation when Scott ultimately decided to dive in for an animalistic kiss—which nicked at Derek’s bottom lip.

As surprising as the kiss was, it wasn’t one-sided. Derek quickly figured that if this was going to get Scott to listen and drain his anger into something—a vessel—that would be able to absorb it and file it away elsewhere—it was fair game. So Derek bit back, harshly licking into Scott’s mouth, gnashing their teeth together, swallowing down each other’s moans and growls.

“You’re listening—” Derek breathed, digging his claws into the plump meat of Scott’s jean-clad ass.

“Shut up.” Scott said, with a rolled growl tunneled inside of his throat.

Scott grabbed onto Derek’s shoulder, using them as leverage, then flipped the bigger wolf around. He shoved Derek forward into the wooden door frame and wall that they had already been pressed up against, but made sure that they were no longer face-to-face. Scott ran his nose and lips against the side of Derek’s neck —breathing in the scent of musk and power, and then thrust his bulging crotch against Derek’s thick ass.

“That’s right.” Derek urged. “Nice and slow. Don’t rush. Center yourself, focus on control, don’t get overwhelmed.”

Scott seemed to whimper, reaching his hands down and around the front of Derek’s waist, quickly unfastening the button and zipper to Derek’s tight jeans. Whilst he continued to nose at Derek’s neck, Scott tugged down Derek’s pants —far enough down so that Derek’s bare ass could properly thump itself out of the pressed confines that it had been stuffed into.

“Get them wet.” Scott said, bringing his fingers around to the front of Derek’s face, letting Derek’s draw some of them into the wetness of his warm mouth.

Derek sucked and finessed Scott’s fingers, moving slow and bobbing his head around in controlled motions—almost as if he were giving somebody sensual head. Scott’s claws eventually retracted and Derek felt the beta’s wet digits slide out from where they had been settled between his pressed lips, only to make a reappearance at Derek’s bare hole.

Scott immediately tried to shove in a couple fingers where Derek was still resistant and not yet worked over, prompting Derek to click his tongue in disapproval. It made Scott growl out in frustration, which only made Derek respond negatively for a second time, this time with words.

“Control, Scott. Center yourself on patience. Find it.” Derek explained, grinding his ass back against Scott’s slick fingers. “Start with one, your index finger, take your time…fuck me slow, fuck me loose, then fuck into me with more.”

Scott huffed, but followed direction. He eased his slicked up index finger into Derek’s tightness, making sure to control his speed and fight back against the desire to ravage Derek’s hole with more and more. But as time passed, Scott worked his way up to using three fingers, fucking them slowly in-and-out of Derek’s body, listening carefully to the trembling exhales of breath that poured out of Derek’s mouth.

“Curve them.” Derek instructed, gently rocking backwards into Scott’s fingers.

Scott did as he was told and curved his fingers, reaching forth into Derek’s prostate. At first, Scott didn’t think his curved fingers were doing anything, but then he felt Derek’s heartbeat flutter from deep inside. He touched something. So he did it again and again. He pressed deeper, yet retained his slowed movement, dragging moans out of Derek’s mouth which grew increasingly louder over time.

And then Scott felt Derek’s entire body flutter around his fingers. Scott was overpowered by the incredibly sudden smell of arousal, and desire, and desperation. The potent smell of cum flooded the air. He continued his pace, continuing to curve his fingers into Derek’s ass, and watched Derek’s orgasm spew out against the soot-darkened wall.

When Scott felt as though enough time had passed between Derek’s orgasm and the older wolf’s breathing returning to normal, Scott tugged his fingers out of Derek’s hole and reached around to grip at Derek’s jaw —spinning the man back around for the second time. He stared deeply into Derek’s eyes, noting in teary gleam that sparkled alongside the bright beta blue, and then smiled.

“Drop down.” Scott ordered. “Take out my cock.”

Derek sunk down to his knees. He hooked his fingers onto the beta’s loose jeans, lifting up Scott’s shirt just enough so that he could see the tanned abs and lines of lean muscle that dipped below the waistband of the washed denim. Slowly, he pressed his mouth to the dusting of soft hair that trailed down from Scott’s navel to his jeans, lapping his tongue against the salty-sweat of Scott’s stomach.

Eventually, Derek undid Scott’s jeans like he was instructed to do so. He tugged them and Scott’s boxers down the beta’s hairy legs, letting them rest untouched at his ankles. Scott wasn’t big, he wasn’t small. He was average in length and girth, but the slight curvature to Scott’s cock was undeniably unique. Derek wanted to know what that would feel like pressed deep inside of him.

As Scott’s fingers slipped into Derek’s hair, Derek took Scott into his mouth. He let the heavy head of the beta’s cock initially rest against the pad of his warm tongue for a moment, and then took more of the length inside of his mouth. Derek took Scott right down to the hilt, gagging slightly, but allowed himself to pull back and forth gently enough to find a pleasurable rhythm. And Scott seemed undeniably responsive to it.

Scott tried to increase the pace by tugging harshly at Derek’s hair, which only prompted Derek to pull back and glare up into Scott’s eyes—carefully reminding him that everything that was happening was less about pleasure and more about learning how to find control and contentment when barraged with overwhelming surges of emotion. And although the slow pace annoyed Scott, a warm mouth on his cock was still a warm mouth—regardless of speed.

Derek pulled off of Scott’s cock with a lewd pop, wiping his forearm across his own mouth to clear up some of the saliva and pre-cum that had drooled down the corners of his lips. Scott groaned at the loss of stimulation, but Derek didn’t care much. He wrapped his fist around Scott’s throbbing cock, slowly stroking at the length, preparing himself for the final part of the lesson and a completed absorption of all the anger and animosity that Scott had been carrying inside of his body.

“I’m going to ride you.” Derek explained, pulling Scott down to the ground — laying him flat against the hardwood floors. “You’re going to want to take control, to dominate me, to pound all of your energy into my body, use me, and bend me to your power…but you’re going to control yourself and let me ride you.”

Scott just nodded and stared up expectantly to where Derek stood up and completely undressed himself. And then, Derek stepped above Scott’s body, turning to face away from Scott, and slowly lowered himself down onto Scott’s spit-slicked cock. Derek slowly took in every inch of Scott’s length, feeling the curvature press tightly against his inner walls in a way that he hadn’t even experienced with somebody else before.

As Derek started to bounce himself up and down on Scott’s cock, finding a steady rhythm, Scott’s palms flew to grip at the sides of Derek’s waist. His claws dug slightly into the delicate skin of Derek’s body. It just felt so good…he needed to grab onto something…he needed to control Derek, take him, and use him….it was an impulsive feeling that surged through Scott’s body, making it hard to formulate thoughts and actions.

“I said, ‘control’.” Derek alerted, prying away Scott’s hands. “Restrain yourself and give yourself over to what this feels like.”

“I—I can’t.” Scott grit through his teeth, fighting back against the urge to snap his hips upwards into Derek’s body. He watched his cock spear into Derek’s body, watched the wobble of Derek’s thick ass, and wanted nothing more than to see it wobble harder and bruise with faster thrusts.

“You can, you will.” Derek reassured. “Focus on control, focus on restraint, I’ll take care of you. I’ll drain you.”

Derek rolled his neck and shoulders —stretching out his tension. He continued to bounce around on Scott’s hardened cock, feeling the way that it carved deep into his body. He could actually feel the head of Scott’s cock strike against his prostate, which fired shots of static throughout his body. It was a pained pleasure, something that Derek quickly found himself addicted to taking. He didn’t want to stop…and he really didn’t have to, because the longer that he could ride Scott, he more control he could gift the beta.

And whilst Scott remained laid out, palms quivering against where he tried to keep them planted against the wood floors as he fought back against the urge to take Derek for himself, Derek quickened the rhythm —hungry with lust. He started to slam himself down harder onto Scott, letting the beta spear deeper into his body. Derek could hear the meat of his ass violently bash down onto Scott’s hairy thighs and he could hear the squelch of Scott’s drooling cock fucking in and out of his hole.

“Derek—” Scott gasped, watching the way that Derek’s ass swallowed up every inch of his cock. “Derek….”

“Focus!” Derek shouted, breathlessly staring down to the way his own hardened cock bounced around and spewed out another powerful load whilst he worked himself around Scott. “Let everything flow into me. Drain into me. Fuck into me. Breed me, Scott.”

With a grunted howl from both betas, Derek slammed down onto Scott’s cock —cementing himself in the position, grinding down, clenching around Scott’s length, and refusing to let up. The pressure was intense. Derek could feel Scott’s load pump into his body like a slush of hot lava, coating his insides and drowning his prostate with an inescapable surge of precious heat.

Derek felt Scott’s body convulse underneath his weight. He zeroed in on the heavy patter of Scott’s delighted heartbeat and continued to allow the beta to pump out every last drop of feral anger and foolish desire into his body. He wanted to make sure that Scott released everything that he had to give.

It wasn’t a quick process, either. Scott continued to spew heavily into Derek’s ass without any signs of slowing down the flow. Scott’s orgasm was so plentiful, so much that Derek eventually felt the excess seed ooze out around where he remained clenched down around the beta’s hardened cock. He could feel Scott’s brew make a mess of where they remained together on the ground —all over Scott’s hairy thighs and all over the back of Derek’s thick ass.

“That was good.” Derek commented, standing up from where he was seated down on Scott’s cock. “You did well.”

Derek composed himself, spinning around to face towards Scott’s direction. He could still feel his hole fluttering around where Scott’s cock had been lodged and found strange comfort in the slick ooze of beta cum that leaked down the back of his thighs to pool around his feet. He stared down to Scott, smirking to himself slightly as he observed the mess. Scott looked like a drenched rat —coated heavily in sweat and a flood of his own cum.

“Can I stick around?” Scott asked, sitting up from the ground—tucking his knees up to chest.

“Aren’t you going to be late for your little date with Allison?”

“Yeah—” Scott acknowledged, seemingly unconcerned. “—but I want you to teach me some more. I don’t think I got all my anger out.”

[paintedface]

takes some time

summary: you encounter your ex, the infamous lance tucker, and despite the nasty breakup, you feel him drawing you back in

pairing: lance tucker x reader

word count: 4257 words

warnings: angst, a bit of shaming, a lot of fluff (don’t worry, i still have a heart)

notes: hello! thank you so much to the beautiful @cumonbucky for motivating me constantly on this fic, and sharing my love for lance the dickhead.

it’s been 5000 years since i’ve posted a fic, and unfortunately there may not be fics for a while due to a europe choir tour and a two month camp that I go to in about a month (the latter being without wifi!!) and I’ll try to schedule some things, but in the mean time, enjoy this lancey stuff

Permanent Tags are OPEN | masterlist

“Ah, Y/N Y/L/N, I didn’t expect to see you back here.”

You tense, before bringing yourself to turn around. You instantly feel a pang to your heart when you see the man before you.

“Lance Tucker. Well, I’m only here to talk to Hope.” You give him a bitter smile, jerking your chin in the direction of Hope’s office.

He smirks, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. “You sure about that? Or did you just wanna see me again?”

You have to tell yourself to breathe, or else you’ll tell him that yes, I did want to see you again. But you manage to keep your breath under control, though your smile drops.

“I was hoping not to run into you, actually.” You say levelly, eyeing him warily. His hand flies to his heart, his expression feigning hurt.

“Ouch, that’s not very nice of you, sweetheart.” He pouts, and you can feel your nails dig into your palms as he watches your composure begin to crumble in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t pretend to be nice, Lance.” You say harshly, your bottom lip beginning to tremble slightly.

Your shaking voice lowers to something barely above a whisper. “You’re the one who cut it off.”

Before he can say something, you turn to cross the gym sharply, where Hope is coming out of her office. You can’t give Lance the satisfaction of being able to break you. You quickly wipe your eyes before you greet Hope, her wide grin making you smile again, as she pulls you into a hug.

“Run into Lance, yet?” Hope asks, the two of you now in her office. You sighs, nodding in resignation and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, just before we came in here. I almost cried in front of him.” You mutter, still ashamed.

She raises an eyebrow, coming around the desk to sit on it, in front of your chair. “Shit, girl, you’ve got to let him go. He’s the one that should be crying like a fucking baby, for letting you go.”

Hope goes silent for a moment, before saying, “What actually happened? I know the vague details but I’m pretty much in the dark.”

Tears prick your eyes at the thought of reliving that goddamn night, and seeing him again just put more salt in the wound. “I…”

Her face softens instantly, putting a hand on your shoulder gently. “You don’t have to tell me if he was really that much of a manwhore.”

You let out a slightly teary laugh at her description of him, shaking your head. “It’s okay, I wanna tell you, because I know you slap guys better than anyone I know.”

Her grin is fast and sharp. “You’re right about that. Now tell me, so I know how hard to do it.”

8 months ago

“Lance? Wh-what are you doing?” You whisper, heart beating fast as you watch your long term boyfriend throw the last of his things into his luggage.

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Surely you knew it was coming to this. We were never going to last, Y/N.” He slings his jacket over his shoulder as your hands begin to tremble.

“Everyone knows that I’m too good for you, Y/N. Everyone.” Lance scoffs, before heading to the entrance. You can’t believe what you’re hearing, because everything seemed fine yesterday and now it’s just crashing down. Tears are filling your eyes at a rapid pace as he opens the door.

“Oh, and don’t try calling me. I don’t need your voice clogging up my voicemail.” He says swiftly, before walking out without sparing you another glance.

Your breath feels like it’s been torn out with a fist, as you let your tears flow freely, knees feeling as if they’re about to buckle at any moment. You let out a sob, and another, and another, because you don’t know where you went wrong.

Hope’s mouth is agape as you finish your story, looking down at your lap so you don’t cry again at the memories.

“Fuck, Y/N, that’s horrible.” She murmurs gently, in contrast to her teasing tone beforehand, hugging you closely.

You bite your lip to keep the tears in as you wrap your arms around her, burying your head in her shoulder.

“I didn’t know he was such a dick, but how can you even stand to talk to him now? You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You shrug, pulling away reluctantly. “I probably did and…”

“Girl, stop.” Hope gives you a glare and you shut up. “You’re one of the best people I know, you’re so fucking kind, funny and beautiful and I would honestly date you if I wasn’t dating Ben.”

You give a weak chuckle, standing up. “Ben’s good, fuck off. Don’t ditch him.”

Hope gives you a smile, flicking her fringe out of her eyes. “I won’t. I’ll go speak to Lance as you make your escape, I’ll make sure to make him bruise.”

She heads out of the door before you, instantly crossing the gym towards Lance, who’s doing one handed push ups on the gym floor. You quickly dodge out of the building, not wanting to be caught by the man. Because from the conversation you had with him before, he’s out to make your life a living hell.

“Hey sugartits.” Lance gets up from his push ups to greet Hope. Before he can even properly stand up, he sees Hope’s arm move, and the next thing, he’s stumbling to the side, his cheek throbbing in pain.

He groans, hands flying up to cup his cheek, glaring at Hope. “What the fuck, Hope?! What did I do this time?!” The sting was growing, and he knew that it, for sure, was gonna at least leave a mark for a couple of days.

If looks could kill, Lance would’ve been dead, right on the spot. Hope’s hands are curled into fists, and for her small stature, she could be intimidating when she wanted to.

“How the fuck could you have done such a shitty thing to Y/N?! And have the goddamn audacity to even talk to her when she came back?!” Hope yells, her voice increasing in pitch and volume. Lance winces at her harsh words, looking away, eyes lingering on the exit of the gym.

“I don’t know.” Is all he says, and Hope scoffs, reaching out to shove him lightly in the chest.

“Bull shit, you don’t know. I thought you were the perfect damn couple! Her kindness outweighed your dick personality, and you made her laugh so much. I know something went down between the two of you, but I didn’t know it was just you.” The anger in her voice lowers, and she shakes her head. “Why?”

He bites his lip, gesturing helplessly with his right hand. He knew he couldn’t give Hope a half-assed answer, because she’d fucking know. “I thought it’d be for the best. She’s...better off without me so I made her leave. I made her leave.” His voice cracks on the last sentence, and Hope’s face softens, if only a little.

“Lance, you gotta know that I still hate you, but if you loved her, you should’ve stayed with her. You think she’s better off without you but you hurt her more than you helped her. You made her so happy, Lance, when you guys were in a relationship, it was like a sappy teen movie and though it was so fucking cheesy, it was the happiest I’ve ever seen either of you.” She crosses her arms, looking up at the taller man.

Lance sighs, left hand massaging his increasingly red cheek. “I didn’t know what to fucking do. I was gonna fuck it up at some point, right? So I did it the way that everyone expects me to; to ditch them because I’m so far up my own ass.”

“Yeah, but you could’ve talked it out if you did fuck up at some point. You didn’t even give her a choice, and you hurt her in the process.” Hope’s tone gets harsher at the end and her eyes widen in surprise at the sight of tears at the corner of Lance’s.

“I loved her, Hope. I still fucking love her, but I went and ruined it, and I don’t know how to talk to her anymore.” He whispers, mind going back to your interaction earlier that day, heart clenching at your expression.

Hope tilts her head, and he can see the gears turning in her head. “I have a plan, but I’m only doing this for Y/N’s happiness, not yours. I still won’t forgive you and I never will, especially if you fuck it up this time as well.”

“Wait, really?” Lance asks softly, and she nods, walking towards her office.

“Come with me, dickbreath, and we’ll talk strategy.”

7 months ago

Like he said, you never called him. But every night, Lance had his phone in his hand, his only connection to you now, waiting for your name to appear on his screen, but it never happened.

He’d been living like this for a month, eat breakfast, go to work, have lunch, come back home, have dinner and and then just think back over all the memories he ever had with you. It’s his fault, he knows, but he knew that he couldn’t call you. He broke your goddamn heart, for fuck’s sake, as if you’d pick up.

He sighs, putting the phone down as his eyes flickered over to the picture frame on his coffee table. It’s a picture of you and him, on your first anniversary, when you went to a pop up carnival. He has his arm wrapped around your waist closely, lips hovering over your hair as you smile brightly at the photographer, the bright lights of the ferris wheel illuminating the two of you.

Lance picks up the photo, tears slipping out of his eyes as he smiles at the memory, but mourns the loss of the thought of never having a moment like that ever again. All because of him.

Present day

“Hit me baby one more-“

You scramble to get your phone to stop your Britney Spears ringtone, pressing answer and holding it up to your ear.

“Yes?”

“Main bitch! I have somebody I want you to meet.” Hope’s cheerful voice blares through the phone’s speaker and you grimace, settling back onto the pristine hotel blankets.

“I don’t want to meet anyone, Hope. I just wanna take a bubble bath tonight, because I bought a shit ton of bath products from the mall.” You sigh, crossing one leg over the other.

“Yeah, that’s fine, I scheduled your blind date for tomorrow night.”

“What?! You already booked it?!” You screech, sitting up straight.

Hope laughs from the other side and you groan. “Hell yeah I did, it’ll be at 7:00pm, Sylvio’s, that fancy restaurant you like, don’t you dare be late. I’ll be there to introduce you to the date.”

You huff, shaking your head even though she can’t see it. “And this date, did you rope them into it?”

There’s a moment of silence where you think she’s hung up, but then she speaks. “No. He was more than willing.” You sense that there’s more meaning behind those few words, but before you can ask, the line clicks off.

Sighing, you set your phone down and you get off the bed, heading towards your bathroom. You need that bath now.

A nervous smile comes across your face as you look at yourself in your mirror. You’ve done well, choosing out a dress that looks elegant yet modern, and that defines your form beautifully. You haven’t done much with your hair but you’ve styled it slightly, along with some subtle makeup to accentuate your features.

You check the time again, before grabbing your purse. Your Uber’s coming in five minutes, and Hope would murder you if you were late. Quickly checking things over, you exit your apartment block, quickly getting into the car and getting on your way to Sylvio’s.

You’ve had a few dates on your own accord, not Hope’s, after your break up with Lance, but that still doesn’t change your nervous mindset. What if they don’t like me? What if I make a bad impression? What if… The worries are endless, but you try to make conversation with the driver, to distract yourself. He makes for a pleasant talk, bidding you a kind goodbye and good luck as you step out of the car.  

Your low heels click across the pavement, pulling the heavy door of the restaurant open. You can see Hope instantly, her blonde hair pulled into her classic ponytail, accompanied by Ben. You smile and wave at her, and she beams, heading over to you.

“Y/N! You’re here!” She embraces you, and pulls away, nodding to the steward at the front of the restaurant. “She’s with me.”

The restaurant is just as beautiful as you remember; delicate chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, the tables decorated with roses, candles and gold cutlery. Everything is set under a warm colour theme, making it feel cosy despite the magnitude of it all.

You look across the lines of tables, and your eyes land on a person that you know way too well. You stiffen instantly, feeling your chest tighten as you notice the empty seat opposite of him.

“Hope.” You whisper nervously, and she looks at you. “Lance is here.”

She raises an eyebrow, noticing your line of gaze. “Yeah?”

“I can’t fucking stand to see him necking with another girl, right next to me. I can’t. I’m not that strong.” You gesture to the empty seat, hands beginning to tremble. God, as much as he’s been an utter asshole, your stomach still turns at the idea of Lance being with somebody else, somebody better, than you.

“Well luckily, you won’t have to.” Hope says simply, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion, until Lance catches your eye.

And it feels like your heart almost stops, at the tentative smile he gives you as he stands up. Fuck, he’s walking towards you, Hope and Ben, with his eyes locked on yours.

“Hey.” He says, furtively glancing at Hope.

She sighs, crossing her arms. “Don’t fuck this up Lance, because I will personally rip your head off. Y/N,” Hope jerks her chin towards Lance. “Your blind date, Lance Tucker.”

Your mouth parts slightly in shock, heart thumping wildly in your chest, and before you can ask Hope what the hell is happening, her and Ben have already disappeared from the restaurant.

“I bet this is your worst nightmare, hey?” Lance chuckles despondently, his tone bordering heavily on something that sounds a lot like shame.

“I…” You trail off, eyes looking anywhere but his face, which unfortunately, is his gorgeous body. He’s wearing a dark blue suit with red accents, tailored to show off his lean figure, with a white shirt with the top two buttons undone. Typical, he obviously can’t stray from the American flag.

“I just...don’t know what’s going on.” You finish quietly, eyes trailing back to his face.

He gives you another nervous, small smile, gesturing towards the table that he was sitting at. “I’ll explain, I promise, because you deserve at least an explanation for...everything.” He says softly, pulling out your chair for you. You sit down, willing your legs not to crumble beneath you.

A waitress comes around to ask whether you’d like a drink, and you ask for a light champagne, whereas Lance gets a red wine. You then order your food, barely concentrating on what you’re getting.

“Did...Hope know about this?” Is the first thing you say when the waitress leaves. 

He nods, combing a hand through his hair. “She did. But she wasn’t trying to betray you or anything she was just…”

“I understand, Lance, but…” You gesture around his face vaguely, “why did you set this up? Last time we talked, you were sort of a...dick.” You end in barely a whisper and he sighs, eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes.

“Yeah, I was. I still am, and I was as well, back...back all those months ago.” He mutters, taking the wine from the waitress, handing you your champagne.

You take a hesitant sip as you wait for him to continue, letting the fizzy bubbles on your tongue distract you from what’s actually going on.

“So I...everything that I’m gonna say may seem insincere but god, Y/N, I swear I’m only speaking the truth. I don’t wanna be that classic fuckboy who pretends to be sorry, not anymore.” He says softly, leaning forward a little, and the edge of your mouth quirks up a little. He grins as well, but it fades as he drums his fingers on the edge of the table, not knowing where to begin.

“First of all, I’m sorry for the morning a few days ago. I just...I was scared, and I didn’t know how to act, and I know that sounds like bullshit but fuck, I get so nervous.” Lance bites his lip, before continuing.

“I didn’t mean anything I ever said to you, especially during our...break up. I promise you that. The thing is I...I never felt good enough for you, Y/N. You’re such a nice, beautiful, caring and intelligent person and with my history, I’ve always felt that I never deserved you.” He gulps, looking down at his lap. “I always had felt that I had never deserved you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, but you don’t say anything. “And I was scared that the press would come after you once they found out that we were full on dating. They always did that with me, whenever I was seen with a girl, they would drag her right through the mud, even if they didn’t know who she was. And I didn’t want that to happen to you, because I didn’t want to get you hurt.”

“Lance, that wasn’t your decision though. And you could’ve...talked to me, instead of tearing us apart.” You say quietly, and his head shoots up to look at you, eyes shining a little.

“I know, and I realise that now. Instead, I was the biggest dickhead and I hurt you more than the press ever could, because of my own insecurity. And for all of that, I’m sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry.” He plays with the cuff of his shirt, but his eyes are still focused on you, albeit teary 

The two of you fall silent, except for thanking the waitress that brings your food. Your meal is more than delicious, bursts of flavour inside your mouth, but your mind can’t savour the taste like it usually does. It’s so goddamn distracted by what the hell is going on, and whether or not to trust Lance.

Lance sneaks looks at you during the meal, the chatter of the other restaurant patrons surrounding the two of you. He looks nervous, almost scared, as if he’s a skittish kitten that’s afraid of making a wrong move and getting punished.

You ache to reach out and hold his hand again, because fuck, you know that he’s telling the truth, but you don’t know if you can accept it.

“I can...get why you did it, Lance.” You say, once the two of you have finished and paid. He raises an eyebrow, as if he doesn’t get why you’d get it.

“But I...you really hurt me, and I can’t get over that so easily.” You fiddle with the hem of your dress, not wanting to look at him, in case his reaction made you give in.

If you had looked, you probably would’ve. His face falls immediately, teeth digging into his bottom lip in harsh acceptance, nodding slowly.

“I know. I know. But thank you for...for hearing me out.” He mumbles, as you both stand up. Your heart clenches at his despondent voice, but you need time, and you know he understands.

“It’s okay. And...thank you, Lance, for telling me.” You offer him a small smile, before brushing your lips against his cheek lightly. He stiffens under your touch, not expecting it, but you can see his skin flush as you pull away.

You give him a tight nod, trying not to let on any more emotion, as you turn and walk away from him.

The next few days are horrible. You keep thinking back to that night, how much you wish you could go back and actually resolve it all. It may sound cheesy, but he’ll never leave your mind, no matter how hard you try to distract yourself from the situation. Hope’s been telling you how much Lance has been moping around the gym, and it just makes the guilt sink further.

You miss him, and fuck, you want him back. You know that you’ve accepted his apology, but you don’t know if you can wait any longer. You just want to hold him again. It’s almost like torture to you. Trying not to touch him in the past week has taken so much goddamn willpower, and you’re ready to let it go.

Dialling Hope’s number with slightly trembling hands, you hold your phone up to your ear. “Hope? Where’s Lance’s apartment?”

Lance wouldn’t be back from the gym for another hour, but you wanted to get there early, just in case. So here you are, sitting outside of Lance’s apartment for god knows how long already, hands shoved in the pockets of your sweater dress and eyes focused on your lap. You’re trying to figure out what to say, and there are reams of sentences that you could say, but you still don’t know how to talk to h-

“Y/N?” A voice asks softly, breaking you out of your thoughts. You look up, and oh god, it’s Lance. His skin is glowing from the exercise, his hair slicked back a little, and dressed in his classic tracksuit.

You stand up quickly, dusting off your dress, embarrassed. “H-hey.” You stutter out quickly, your coherent thoughts conveniently disappearing from your mind.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, unable to form anything to say. Finally, you just give in, deciding that actions speak louder than words, right?

He opens his mouth to say something but you’ve wrapped your arms around his body, almost melting into him at the feel of the press of his body against yours again.

You pause when you realise that he’s not hugging you back, and you instantly feel a pang of hurt in your chest as you pull away. You thought that he wanted you back, so why was he-

Warm arms pull you back into his chest, shattering that doubtful train of thought as he cradled you softly but tightly in his embrace, lips pressing to the top of your head. You rest your head on his chest, feeling your bottom lip begin to quiver as he delicately runs his hand through your hair.

“Hey, baby.” He mumbles, pressing you impossibly closer as you relax in his hold.

You bury your face into his t-shirt, hiding the tears that are suddenly building in your eyes. “Hey.” You whisper, voice muffled by the t-shirt. Lance lets out a weak chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I missed you.” His voice cracks a little as he speaks, and you tilt your head to look at him. His steel blue eyes are brimming with tears as well but despite it, he grins, and you can finally feel like you can smile back.

You wake up with a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, clutching you close as if afraid to let go. You blink, wincing as the light comes into your vision, letting out a soft yawn as your eyes focus on your surroundings.

You’re at Lance’s apartment. The memories of the past afternoon and evening come flooding back to you, and you smile, remembering how Lance treated you to a homemade dinner and then a beautiful bath, finished with holding you as the two of you drifted off to sleep.

“Y/N?” A hoarse voice speaks behind you, and you turn a little to see Lance staring at you, his voice still sleep-heavy.

“Morning.” You say shyly, and his mouth breaks into a wide, albeit tired, smile.

“For the record…” He tilts your chin up with his fingers, “I adore the sound of your voice. I used to want to…call you, even if it was just your voicemail, because god, I missed it.”

You tilt your head, cheeks warming a little. “Really?”

He pulls you flush against his chest, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as you stroke his fluffy hair lightly. “Yeah, really…I thought yesterday was a...a dream.” He murmurs, and you raise an eyebrow. 

“Why?”

He inhales sharply, gazing back at you. “Because sometimes it did happen, in my dreams. But it would always end in me fucking up again.”

You sigh at his remark, shifting a little so you can tap his nose. He wrinkles it and you laugh softly, his face lighting up at the sound of it. “I trust that you won’t fuck up again, and I’ll stay. I promise.”

“I won’t do anything to push you away again, I swear on my heart.” Lance breathes, and you smile as he hugs you closer, kissing your forehead.

The two of you have a lot to clear up, but you know that you’ll handle it together.

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