#somebody ask about the white collar au

[bleeding-seraphic]

The white collar au has a happy ending btw and that happy ending is narilamb being menaces

For clarification Narinder and Lambert are married this is just how they flirt in public, or as @jaroftears correctly put it, this is foreplay for them

[gladiatorcunt]

- # GIVE A FLY SOME HONEY !!

all roads lead to death valley

cw: southern setting & accents, sui ideation/thoughts, protected sex (are you proud of me), dead dove ending and undertones, sort of ambiguous, virgin cowboy!anakin x virgin afab!reader, ROTS coded!anakin, r2’s a horse, the force is in place of the christian God and is referred to as such at times, star wars being a fictional franchise in a star wars au fic, weird mix of a farm and a ranch, spanking, clit slapping, biting, reader’s inner freak has some crazy thoughts, mentions of humiliation and collaring/choking, anakin murders somebody (one scene of violence), what a heat advisory and the south’s sex education does to a mf, implied plus size and neurodivergent!reader, kidnapping????????????, mention of drugs, reader has a lot of internalized shame about where they’re from

wc: 4.2k (unedited)

what if instead of star wars it was called 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 wars

consider commissioning me!

Your unlucky streak rears its ugly head yet again. June was already shaping up to be a hot month, and your junkyard car wouldn’t start. You’re used to driving long stretches of road with nothing but livestock in fields to gawk at, it comes with the territory. But you couldn’t afford gas and decided to push your luck on the way back home, nevermind that the drive would be at least 20 hours. Moving to the city had its drawbacks, the road trip to and back being one of them.

“No, no. Come on, please work. Do you need me to fucking sing to you or something?” You groan, fruitlessly twisting your key in the ignition over and over.

Nope, “Tough shit.” Your engine mocks, death coughs sputtering out one after the other.

“ ‘You havin’ trouble?” A masculine voice shouts from behind you.

You get startled by the sound and gracefully slam your head up into the roof of the car as you turn around. You must look like quite the sight, clutching your now throbbing head and stumbling out of your broken down hand-me-down car on a long open road. Once you’ve blinked enough to adjust to the harsh sunlight, your eyes land on a tall muscular figure riding a horse. The clip clop of the horse’s dirty hooves on the gravel pierce your ears but the gentle sway of the man’s fluffy hair softens the blow.

“Um…. yes, sir. I am actually. My…. my car won’t start and I’m all out of gas.” You burn with embarrassment as you get through your explanation, trying your hardest not to throw up from the sheer social anxiety.

“Well that ain’t no biggy, I think I can help with that.” The man cocks his head and hops down from the horse, a white stallion with a few faded black-gray spots here and there. “Stay here, R2.”

You’re standing there dumbly, ignoring the tiny rocks digging into your shoes and the pounding in your skull as the cowboy wanders up to you. The sun bounces off his dark hat in a way that gives him a sort of halo, and you gape like a fish when he tips it down at you in a silent greeting, reaching out to shake your hand after. The silver spurs on his boots reflect sunlight directly onto your face, so you miss his open palm the first time.

His hand is rough, you can feel numerous old scrapes and cuts when you accept the gesture. But it’s so much bigger than yours, and there’s strange heat coming from his skin that you’re hesitant to pin on the southern summer sun. Too handsome, in a way that just can’t be possible, you quickly swipe a fingertip over his ring finger during the handshake and The Force must be looking out for you because there’s no ring. Not that you’re seeking anything out, but in the town you’re from, you’re lucky if anyone makes it past 18 without having a baby and getting hitched as a result.

Anakin tinkers away at your car for over an hour, finding more problems than just a lack of gas. Eventually he determines that you’ll die in this heat before you can back on the road, so he asks you to accompany him back to his ranch and he’ll send out one of his employees to bring your car around. You try to show him that you’re listening by ‘hm’-ing and nodding every so often, but it’s hard to rip your eyes away from a very attractive man bent over and sweaty while he’s fixing your car. You definitely do not want to cry when his flannel lifts up as he wipes the sweat on his forehead away with his greasy hand, revealing the slight softness over his muscles.

Since your car was no longer an option, Anakin grins as he gestures towards his horse, “R2’s a good horse, won’t give you any trouble. He likes to make a lot of noise and has an… acquired sense of humor, but I reckon we’ll get back just fine.”

He has you practice getting off and on the horse for a good while, the next step is letting you adjust to the feeling of being on one. You’d be embarrassed that Anakin’s having to teach you how to ride but his hands curl around your waist, keeping you steady and whispering in your ear to not be so stiff. Horses can smell fear after all, it’d suck to not only have your car be broken but your bones too. It’s a scene straight out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind that’s a tiny yellowed book sold almost exclusively in run down gas stations with a cover not far off from a porno.

Your cheeks are burning the entire way to the ranch, you relax as much as you can on an animal that’s a few hundred pounds of muscle with a searing hot body pressed right up against you from behind. It doesn't take long to get to your destination though, and before you know it sprawling fields bracket a mid size homey wooden building. There are some smaller pens for the cows to stay in and you follow their movement as an employee unlatches the gate and leads them out towards the left most field.

“They gotta switch pastures every so often.” He informs you, urging his horse into an energetic trot, “And it’s a good rule of thumb to have about an acre per cow.”

You tighten your hold on the reins and try not to focus on your fear of falling off. The pace of R2 isn’t one that you struggle to match but then again this is the first time you’ve ever ridden a horse in a long time. You’ve always been too skittish to do it regularly, and when you moved you got rid of the hobby entirely. You take a deep breath and let the horse’s movements travel through you, coming to enjoy the gentle jostling as you go. Anakin keeps his hands around yours on the reigns, making sure you don’t panic and seize up. R2’s not really beginner friendly unless he likes his rider, he has a tendency to just whinny and take off when the spirit moves him.

“The Force has done me good and given me a nice house on nice land, but it don’t mean nothin’ if i’m all by my lonesome. Ever since my dad passed and my ma’ died a few years after that, the workers and the cows are all I got, plus R2 of course.”

All right, he sinks into the jargon a little too much, but the way the sun accentuates the scar on his cheek makes it a charming quirk. You want to lick his teeth when he smiles, you think, before blaming it on an oncoming heatstroke. You’re no better than a man in this moment, and if you had seen him soaking up all of the attention in a crowded room in a bar you’d have no business being in, you like to think that you could pull him. You play with the slightly waxy feel of the leather reins, allowing the sensation of coarseness in the stitching to overpower any coherent thought.

“Why’d you name your horse R2?” You ask, ducking your head as you feel him guide the animal towards the stables.

“Oh uh, I was real wild over these sci fi movies from back when I was a kid. The hero had this robot called R2-D2, and I guess it just stuck with me.” He answers you with a shrug and a mild blush, curving his fingers around yours.

Your stomach warms at the feeling, but you refrain from returning the gesture, he probably isn’t even thinking that deeply about what he’s doing. He’s not obsessing over every square inch of skin that comes into contact with his own, not like you. You’re already missing the comforting weight of Anakin’s herculean body when he’s pulling the reins to stop R2 and hopping off, clamping his big hands around your waist and helping you down. You wobble for a bit and find your footing before you can pick up on how he momentarily froze in front of you, anticipating an easy opportunity to touch you again. Force, you really are stupid, bless your heart.

You glance up at him and start to say something but then you hear rustling in the bushes, Anakin must hear it too because before you can tug on his sleeve and tell him, he’s pulling his revolver out from its holster and striding off towards the sound. You’re quick to learn that he has a bit of a one track mind, especially when it comes to indulging the serpent twisting in between his ribs like a switchblade.

“I’ll be damned…”

You’re supposed to head inside and awkwardly linger around until your car is in good enough condition to get you back to Coruscant. The only thing is, you’ve now found yourself without your new security blanket, and your curiosity agrees with how much you don’t fucking want to speak to any of the people here without Anakin to hide behind. R2 loudly chuffs at you from his stall in the stables, either saying “That’s just how he is, leave him be!” or "What are you doing? You should obviously go after him!” You choose to believe it’s the latter, so you wander off into the distance, following Anakin’s lead.

You catch up to him quicker than you thought you would, and you have half a mind to scold him like a child if you weren’t catching your breath. All you can see is his wide shoulders because he’s hunched over something, your heartbeat quickens when you spot his gun being pointed at something. You circle around him to find a man squirming on the ground like a toddler, twitching every so often. Anakin seems almost enthralled by the desperate display, so he doesn’t notice you until you gingerly place a hand on his shoulder, soft and looking to soothe. Later you won’t remember the blood on the man’s temple or the matching stain on the muzzle of Anakin’s gun, because you didn’t witness that part.

He snaps out of it, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against your knuckles, “ ‘s alright, sweetheart, just a meth head too out of his mind to watch where he’s goin’. Had a knife with him, probably lookin’ to rob somebody blind.”

Your eyes flicker between him and the man, fully aware of how common stuff like drug addicts trespassing is and the old fashioned black and red ‘Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight’ sign. You’ve grown up around guns, you’re more used to hearing them in a hunting or taking shots at beer bottles kind of way, but it’s not like Anakin’s the only one to have that kind of self enforced rule when it comes to his property. Still… killing a human man is different than making use out of a successful deer hunt, right?

“Maybe we should call the cops, he can’t hurt nobody like that…” You try to reason, casting a pitiful glance towards the cowering man.

There’s a scratch on Anakin’s face that’s still bleeding from the knife the guy had used before Anakin took it, it just barely missed his right eye, he could’ve lost it. You’ll ask to help him with it when you get back to the ranch, but you know that there’s no seeing to it right now. You don’t want to risk an infection just so you could brush your thumb across the wound, you’re not even sure why you want to, it’s like the urge just materialized in your head out of thin fog. Anakin gently shrugs your hand off and uses his free one to pull you against his chest, and it’s like you’re back on his horse, that same fear entwined with exhilaration like barbed wire. Your hearts are beating at the same pace, some folks say that’s how you know it’s love, that’s how you know it’s fate.

“You don’t got the stuff in ya to be a killer, that’s just fine, darlin’. ‘Cause I sure do.” His words dissolve into a previously unknown to you cold sneer.

Anakin clamps a burly, sweaty hand over your eyes as he empties the entire magnum into the tresspasser’s skull. The bright sun bounces off the brim of his hat, casting a shadow over his stormy eyes. He may not have let you witness the massacre, but you will never forget the sickening yelps the poor bastard gave to Anakin like prayer. And then he got put down in a more inhumane fashion than if he were a rabid dog. To your gracious host, there’s probably not a whole lick of difference. Between a wanderin’ sap and a deranged mutt, that is.

But there’s a far off expression on his face, maybe he was once at risk of having two bullets in his temple at the hands of someone unforgiving.

“Welp.” Anakin exclaims, making a point of slapping his thigh as he holsters his pistol. “Better head on home now, I reckon. Come on, honey, don’t want to lose you to the coyotes.”

It’s said like “kai-yohtes.” You balk at his teasing and obediently trail after him, a vulnerable duckling staying in line. The storm is hitting hard by the time you’re out of the woods, and you briefly wonder if the Angels up in heaven are gonna start bowling soon. A saying that got passed around in your family, when you and the ones before you would stare up in wonder and shiver in fear at the thundering purple skies as kids. You remember being surprised that one of the Angels’ bowling balls never fell down to earth, maybe it’d be somethin’ like a meteorite.

As is the case with many things, it’s easy to lose sight of the fresh corpse in the dry grass. Once you turn around and thread your finger through Anakin’s, dirtying them, it’s almost like that man never existed. There must be something wrong with you, sure the situation is so unimaginable that it would be hard to cope with, but shouldn’t you be feeling more guilt than you do? You feel bad, of course, but ‘easy come and easy go’ has always been the way of things in these parts. God giveth and God taketh away.

You’re back where you should be, a narrow dirt path going under a wooden fence to the ranch. Grand trees line the road forming a moss green canopy. A few workers are goofing off and playing a very amateur game of football, blissfully ignorant to the fact that Anakin can obviously see them from his place next to you.

It would be a peaceful place to die, a bright and clear afternoon-evening in the way that the world can only be when you’re about to leave it. That’s how you’d want it to feel, like you’re rowing a boat across the lake you used to go fishing at to see people you’d never thought you’d see again waiting for you. Fall leaves, blinding pale sun, a serene and calming quiet. You’d be the happiest you’ve ever been, skipping even though you never could as a kid. There’d be no sadness, only relief and a memento of everything that’ll only make sense when it’s someone’s turn to see you again. No buzzing from mosquitoes or chirping from crickets, only little lightnin’ bugs. Maybe you only get that kinda ending if you’re good, in the godly sense, if you come from something worth remembering.

Anakin raises an eyebrow and gently jostles you, and just like that your train of thought is derailed. He chalks it up to shock, and nods his head towards a clearing behind the building. A change of plans. You follow, as you are wont to do.

“That rat bastard had it comin’ to ‘im, hun.” He tries to reassure and squeezes your hand, imploring you to see reason. “The Force decided it was his time, sweet thing.”

You shake your head, not disagreeing, just in utter disbelief. “I just… most everyone in my life I've known that’s died did it when I wasn't there. I’ve never had to actually be there when they… you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” And that’s all he says, regardless of the truth.

It’s what you need, somehow he just understands exactly what that is. You’re starting to think that you certainly don’t have a damn clue. You look up at him again, really drinking in every facet of his entire being that you can latch onto and obsess over. You’re remembering why you were so anxious to get out of this sinkhole, it’s a miracle you ever got out of it in the first place. His hair’s all messy, dark curls strewn about like a windswept bale of hay. A storm is brewing in his eyes, like he could Earth to rotate in the opposite direction if he wanted it to. He works his jaw around in a weird way to get rid of the soreness after grinding his teeth.

It’s tantalizing, being the hand holding a man on the edge back from wreaking his God given havoc.

You dot a quick peck on his cheek, scrunching your nose up at the barest hint of prickly stubble.

His eyes widen, and the sun itself shines brighter. The cutest light dusting of pink spreads across his face, so he one ups you by pressing your lips together. It’s exactly how a first kiss should feel, a simple gesture that leaves you breathless and with more butterflies than a flower garden swarming in your tummy. There’s no fireworks, but you can hear wind chimes and birds singing as your lips glide together, the meeting of your tongues is so natural that you won’t be able to remember when his slipped through the seam of your mouth. You want to keen as he maps out your teeth, his spit has to have some kind of aphrodisiac in it.

Anakin works your jeans open and off your legs completely, his pupils expand when he sees your thick thighs in all their glory but he keeps himself from slapping them and acting like they’re the only part of your body. There’s an ever growing to do list in both of your heads, your combined inexperience brings a flurry of perverted ideas and porn scenarios to recreate with it, and you’re sad that you’ll very likely leave with none of them being fulfilled.

He yanks the collar of your tank below your chest, immediately leaving over to bite your cute breasts with all the grace of a rattlesnake. He doesn’t try to make any marks, he just wants to bite wildly and with reckless abandon, like he’s using your tits to self soothe. You’d do the same if he let you at his pecs to be fair, his chest is practically as big as yours if not bigger.

“This means somethin’ to me, hear that? ‘m always gonna remember my first.” He spits, clutching onto your bruised tit like he’s a split second away from sinking his hand into your viscera and dumpster diving for your heart.

He pauses pawing at your tits to reach in his back pocket and pull out a condom. It’s crumpled and the packaging is worn by rubbing against the denim of Anakin’s jeans, you can tell that he’s excited to finally put it to use. You’re glad that there’s some safety measures being taken, but your heart swoops in disappointment at the dose of reality. It’s the kind of thing that calls for the most diabolical, unhinged, strings of goopy fluid hanging from his balls as they slap against your rippling ass, raw sex. You don’t let yourself pout, Anakin’s making good use of the only working brain cell between the two of you. You scoot back on his lap to give him room to pop to button on his pants and whip his dick out. It makes a heavy ‘thwop!’ as it slaps against Anakin’s abs.

Your mouth waters at the sight, so thick with the just right amount of curve, it would scratch your throat perfectly. His hands shake harder as he rips the condom’s packaging open with his teeth and rolls it on his twitching length. You take a deep breath, finding comfort in the tense muscles on Anakin’s shoulders through his warm flannel. He curls a hand around the base of his cock and grasps it tightly, positioning it right under your empty hole. You’re lucky he didn’t have to tell you what to do, because working yourself down every inch would’ve been much more painful if you already needed to be taught a lesson. It’s weirdly sweet, the chaste pecks he presses along your nose and jawline as you adjust to what feels like a tree log forcing your tender folds to stretch around it. Your slutty body tries to twist itself in a pretzel with the way you’re swiveling your hips, trying to get more of Anakin’s dick inside of you when you’ve miraculously already swallowed him to the hilt.

“I want this pretty pussy weepin’ for me, I’m awfully sorry honey but i’m not stopping till it’s gushin’ all over me.” He speaks in between wet kisses up and down the column of your throat.

“Mmm- It’s okay, I want it like that, Ani. Promise- oh my god, so big.”

You make him feel like a man trying to outrun a forest fire only to get swept up in a tornado. Like there’s a fever in his brain that’s gotten into his blood, black tar dripping into his liver. Drives a man to drink so he can have a sliver of that feeling, that scalding need not even God could give you. There’s no finesse or coordination to anything, his lips frantically scurry along random spots on your upper body. His upward thrusts are heavy hitting and wrangle your breath out in stuttered gasps, he moves as if he were riding a horse, following only the imagined scent of old blood. Anakin’s cock is so big your walls could rip if he wasn’t always keeping a sharp eye on how much he’s bullying you. He doesn’t try anything crazy like fucking your cervix, it might shock you so much that you remeber exactly how long it’s been since he’s had your car “taken to the shop”.

His spurs dig into the dirt as he slaps your ass, the material of his gloves adding an extra bit of ‘umph!’ to the resulting sting. Anakin’s jeans are so warm against your ass that it takes a few more spanks before you really get the urge to bend over his lap and tell him to just have at it until you sob. You’re on an ecstatic high, living in the present with a near stranger’s dick balls deep inside of you. His eyes gleam gold when you make eye contact, and you find it so easy to fall down the rabbit hole, letting this man burn away all your responsibilities until he’s the last one left standing in a sea of ashes.

You don’t mind that he stops talking eventually, switching to gruff grunts and harsh yells. ‘Don’t be so stiff, let the movement roll through you.’ Anakin digs his fingers into the meat of your jiggling ass and delivers a final smack to both cheeks. You sigh in relief, but then you snap out of your cockdrunk haze to yelp at the cruel hit to your swollen clit.

“Need ya to keep squeakin’ sweets.” He orders. “Don’t want the townsfolk to think I fucked your brain out your ears.”

It’d be polite to make conversation with the people you meet when Anakin parades you around with his hat on your head later, something of a pre engagement tour. If the Force is good, you’ll be willing, because rope burn isn’t something you want to become your new normal.

“Chin up, buttercup,” He says almost bashfully despite how hard he’s pounding your puffy cunt, “We can get some ice cream at the fair after if ya like, make it a cute little second date.”

You whimper and harshly pull his hair, earning you a throaty moan and another slap to your clit, saying yes to him like you’ve already done a million times. You thought that the pure social anxiety of being around so many of Anakin’s employees would be nerve wracking, it’s nothing compared to having to speak to them AND keep their boss’s cum from oozing down your leg. Anakin’s discarded belt catches your eye when a sharp thrust sends your head falling back, and you picture the scuffed up belt buckle as the O shaped ring of a more traditional collar. The black stains from working on your car only add to the appeal, it scares you exactly how much you’d let the man fucking you with a cheap gas station condom get away with. You’ve already heard him kill a man, finding yourself in a relationship is pretty much the natural next step.

When he cums deep inside with a hoarse growl, there’s the sound of a bear trap slamming shut on an unsuspecting bunny rabbit. Your simultaneous orgasm is the tiny squeal it makes before it dies.

“I forgot to ask, hun, what stuffed animal do ya want me to win for ya?”

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai

[wanderersbell]

lost and found

wanderer x gn!reader

genre: fluff, modern!au

warnings: none

word count: 4444

✧.* when a lost cat drags in your very snarky and attractive apartment neighbor, you end up with a bit more than you bargained for.

for the modern au writing event at @yae-publishing-house

it’s nearly the middle of the night when you see her for the first time - a little white cat huddled up by the staircase of your apartment building. your feet are aching from running around all day and your knees are on the brink of giving out from exhaustion, but you don’t even hesitate to approach her and crouch down to get closer the moment you take notice. 

she chirps in surprise and stands up to greet you right away, brushing her cold pink nose against your hand and dragging her body against you affectionately with her tail twitching happily in the air. 

“aww, sweet girl,” you whisper in a soft voice while scratching lightly around her ears. “aren’t you cold out here?”

the cat of course does not understand this, but she still meows once you finish talking before bumping her head against your hand in response. her fur is lightly covered in dirt and dust from being outdoors and she isn’t wearing a collar which would normally indicate a stray, but she’s so friendly that you can’t help but gnaw your lip in worry. 

it’s not abnormal to see homeless cats in the area, and all of which are well taken care of by the people in the neighborhood, but what if she’s somebody’s lost pet? what if she hasn’t eaten in days and nobody has seen or fed her?

these thoughts are what have you ignoring the pain in your legs and jogging to the convenience store a few blocks away to pick up some cans of wet food. thanks to it being ridiculously late on a tuesday night the building is entirely empty aside from the cashier, so in record time you’re able to secure the goods and return to the little white cat that’s still waiting patiently under the concrete steps where you left her. 

as soon as the lid is off the can she’s circling around your feet and meowing so you’re quick to set it down and let her at it. just as you had feared, she scarfs it down in under a minute before turning to you with her big green eyes like she’s asking for more. she probably hadn’t eaten for a while, and your chest flutters with anxiety about what to do in this situation. 

animals aren’t allowed in this complex, so if she’s a pet she’s likely from the neighborhood nearby and ended up here after escaping her house. surely they have some sort of community group where everyone in the area can report things like porch thefts and lost animals, so you take your phone out to snap a few pictures of her while she continues to lazily brush against your legs. 

“i’m sorry i can’t bring you inside,” you say to her sadly, slipping off your jacket to fold up and place under the steps for her to lay on. “i’ll make sure people know you’re missing, so stay here okay? i’ll bring you food again tomorrow.”

she once again meows very politely when you finish, and it takes everything in you to start walking up the stairs to your door and leave her behind knowing she’s stuck out here in the cold all night. when you finally get inside and kick your shoes off the first thing you do is download a neighborhood forum app and make a missing animal report, and it’s only seconds after that when you flop down on your bed and are out like a light. 

the next morning, she isn’t there. 

your jacket is still where you left it and covered in white fur from her laying on it, but the cat herself is nowhere to be found. you still leave an open can of food for her anyways, but the rest of the day while you’re out all you can think about is whether or not she’s safe and if you’ll ever see her again. 

nobody has responded to the report you made last night yet, not even a single like left on the post despite the page having gotten multiple views, and you’re tempted to post in a few other neighborhoods nearby by decide to hold off and see if she comes back before jumping the gun. 

later that night when you finally return, she’s curled up on your jacket under the stairs again. a tidal wave of relief rushes through you as you reach into your bag to pull out a can of food and peel the lid off. 

alerted by the sound, the little white cats’ head shoots up and she’s already padding her way over to you before her eyes have even fully focused on the source of the noise. when she realizes it’s you, a series of delighted trills leave her throat and it takes everything in you not to scoop her up into your arms and baby her. 

you sit with her for a bit longer after she finishes eating before bidding her goodnight and reminding her to stay put until tomorrow. 

it’s only minutes after you’ve fled the scene that someone else who had also taken up the task of looking out for this cat for the time being approaches the stairs and clicks their tongue in annoyance at the sight of an empty can of food. 

when tomorrow comes around, if she’s still there and nobody has responded to your post, you make an oath to yourself that you’ll sneak her inside and risk the consequences of doing so. it’s certainly more trouble than it’s worth, but you can’t sleep knowing she’s out there all by herself and the fleeting thought of her being taken by someone else and stuck in a shelter fills you with dread throughout the night. 

she’s not there in the morning again, but you still leave an open can out for her like yesterday and have a little more confidence this time that she’ll still be waiting under the stairs when the day is over. 

as expected, the sight that greets you as the moon hangs high in the sky when you finally reach the entrance to your complex is a sound asleep bundle of white fur on a jacket. 

tonight is the night that you’ll take her up to your apartment and look after her, but you decide to let her eat first while you think up a backup plan in case picking her up and carrying her won’t work. a small smile sits on your face as you kneel next to her and watch her eat, lazily scratching up and down her back while she purrs between each bite. 

“so you’re the one who’s been feeding my cat.” a male’s voice rings out from somewhere behind you. 

you jump at the sound and snap your head around to face the source, the white feline slipping away from your hand to slink over to the person who spoke and meow at his feet expectantly. about ten feet away, with his arms crossed over his chest, stands the most attractive guy you have ever seen in your life. 

the first thing you notice is his eyes - a vivid violet ocean encapsulated in his irises as he glares down at your hunched form. there’s a small amount of bright red eyeliner smudged under his waterline in a tiny wing that perfectly compliments his complexion and distracts you so much that you almost don’t see the two black rings in his bottom lip, to which your stomach does a little flip upon noticing. cropped indigo hair frames his face delicately, a sharp contrast against his ivory skin that looks soft and unblemished from where you’re crouching. 

when you finally recover from how unfairly gorgeous he is and process his words, your brows crease together in a frown. 

“your cat?” you can only watch helplessly as the white feline stretches up on her back legs and balances herself against his shins until he reaches down and scoops her up. 

“yeah, obviously.” his tone is sarcastic as he gestures to the animal in his arms with a nod. 

“then why does your cat live outside?” when you finally push yourself to your feet you realize he’s no taller than you are, standing at perfect eye level as you regard him with a suspicious look. 

what kind of terrible person leaves their pet outside? it’s clear to you that he’s bullshitting and the cat isn’t really his, but if he’s so keen on being a jerk about it then he can have the same energy in return. 

he purses his lips (curse those metal rings glinting under the fluorescent stair lights) and tilts his head back in a mocking manner. “she’s mine because she likes me the most.” 

we’ll see about that.

“c’mere kitty, pspspsps.” at the sound of your voice the cat squirms out of his hold and pads over to you with a series of sweet little meows. the smug look you send him as you lean down to scratch her ears has his jaw visibly clenching with irritation. 

“also, what’s so wrong with me feeding your cat?” you continue. “shouldn’t you be grateful?”

“grateful? she’s going to end up fat if we both feed her.” the man huffs. 

“okay? so then stop feeding her.”

“no,” he retorts. “you stop feeding her. i was doing it first.”

“well that’s a shame. what do you want me to do about it? shall we take turns?” your tone is heavily sarcastic as you suggest this, and you’re positive that if looks could kill you’d be six feet under by now. 

“what, like divorced parents? isn’t that always rough on the kids?” he counters and shakes his head. “she deserves better so just let me handle it.”

you look him up and down suspiciously, trying your best to ignore how hot he is. “why should i? i don’t know you.”

“are you-“ he releases an aggrieved sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “fine, then let her choose.”

the cat, who’s sitting patiently watching you both exchange heated remarks, doesn't move a muscle. thirty tense seconds pass while she just looks between you and him with mild confusion, her tail flicking softly behind her until she gets bored and slinks off to go curl up on your discarded jacket, leaving the two of you standing in defeat. 

“just let me take her inside.” you sigh, too tired to keep this up. 

the man looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “inside? are you crazy? we aren’t allowed to have pets.”

“okay, and?” you shrug. “you’re telling me that wasn’t also your plan?”

his eyes close and he seems to be contemplating something for a few seconds before speaking up again. 

“one more night.”

“what?”

“one more night and if she chooses you tomorrow, i won’t argue.” he explains carefully, red lined violet eyes watching you closely. “but if she picks me, i’m taking her instead.”

reluctant to agree but unwilling to back down, you give a short nod and the deal is set. you both turn away at the same time without another word. 

the next day, as the two of you meet under the stairwell at the same time and the tiny white cat beelines past you towards the man who wears a grin so smug it has your hands clenching into fists in irritation. 

“have you even had a cat before?” you begin interrogating him, failing at trying not to be jealous over the whole thing. “do you even have everything you need? do you have electrical wires hidden and things she could eat and choke on picked up?”

he looks like he wants to argue, but instead shuts his mouth in a thin line and turns his head the other way, bangs falling into his eyes with the action.  

“…no.”

with a defeated groan you drop your head into your hands and heave a large sigh.“we’re going to the store then. you need a litter box so she needs to stay out here until you do.”

“wait- we’re going to the store?” he asks, clearly against the idea of you tagging along. “why can’t i-“

“c’mon.” he pauses when you turn on your heel to start walking the other way, leaving him momentarily perplexed while staring after your retreating form. 

there’s a place open for another hour down the road that should have everything you need, and you’re determined to not let the cat sleep out in the for cold another night so even though you can’t stand this guy, you may as well do it for her. 

after swearing under his breath the man speed walks to catch up to you. the walk there is completely silent and neither of you acknowledges each other once, but once you walk through the sliding doors into the building you look over at him and wait until he meets your eyes. 

“i’ll grab the litter, you grab the food. it’s that way.” you say while pointing to the isle. without another word, you take off towards your destination and spend a few minutes checking prices on different brands. 

it’s not long before the man returns to your side with a small bag in his hand and you realize a little too late that of course he would have no idea which kind of food to pick. 

“put that back,” you tell him while grabbing a case of litter. 

“what? why?” he asks sharply, looking slightly offended. 

“that brand is bad for them.” you explain while following hin back to the food isle. he’s visibly vexed as he trails after you. 

“if it’s bad for them then why would they sell it?” the man deadpans.  

“good question. here, grab this one.”

silently, he takes the bag from you and you lead him down a few other isles to grab things like food and water dishes and a small pack of mouse toys with bells before taking everything to self checkout. he’s strangely quiet the entire time, just letting you do your thing after having no choice but to accept that he knows nothing on the matter, and you can’t help but find it a bit endearing. 

when you scan the items, the man hovers behind you silently until you  pull out your wallet to pay. he rudely shoves you aside with his shoulder and swipes his card before you can even begin to protest, but anything you were about to say dissipates into thin air and is replaced upon seeing the name on his card. 

“kunikuzushi?” you ask with mild surprise, reading the letters out loud. 

the man’s shoulder tense up at the sound of his name coming from your lips but he’s quick to recover and clicks his tongue. 

“don’t call me that.” he grumbles, typing in his pin with a little more force than necessary. despite his irritation expression, there’s a hint of amusement in the way he speaks that makes you think he truly is just putting up an act. 

you watch him for a few beats to figure out if he’s serious or not before humming and nodding like you’ve just come to a conclusion. 

“kuni it is then.”

kuni snaps his head around to glare at you, but the pink flush that stains the tips of his ears and cheekbones gives him away. “don’t call me that either.”

you give him an innocent smile and reach around him to grab the receipt and bag before heading to the exit, not bothering to wait and see if he follows. as expected, his footsteps approach from behind. 

“cant believe i’m stuck living in the same complex as you.” kuni hisses under his breath when he catches up. you find yourself staring at his lip rings for a moment before ripping your eyes away. 

“speaking of that,” you start to say, completely ignoring his prior words. “how long have you lived there? why haven’t i seen you before?”

kuni looks like he’d rather not answer, huffing an exasperated sigh. “around five months now.”

he won’t tell you much, but you force a little more small talk out of him until the two of you finally arrive back at the complex and scoop up the cat to bring her inside. she doesn’t make a sound once on the way up, and you can’t help but thank her silently for keeping quiet since you’re definitely not supposed to be doing this. 

when you step inside, kuni’s apartment is clean and organized and dark just as you had expected. the walls are almost completely bare save for a few band posters and the only things decorating the small living room are a black leather couch and a tv on a simple glass stand. it takes no time at all to set things up while the white cat sniffs around the house and takes in her new surroundings. 

the litter box gets tucked into a corner of the bathroom, the food and water dishes set on a mat by the kitchen counter, and a few toys are laid out around the place where she can bat them around as she pleases. 

“you have to let me come visit whenever i want.” you demand when you’re finally being shooed out of the front door by him. 

“what? absolutely not.” kuni snaps, turning back to give you an offended look. 

“you have to! wouldn’t she be sad if she never saw me again? divorced parents both still get to see the kids.” you insist with full seriousness. 

kuni watches you quietly, absentmindedly moving his lip rings back and forth with his tongue before sighing in defeat. 

“fine, whatever.” he concedes. you’re about to pump your fist in delight, but he stops you to finish. “you can visit once a month.”

“one a week.” 

“no.” he argues. 

“please.” 

your begging seems to do the trick, because kuni’s shoulders quickly drop in defeat when you look up at him with pleading eyes. “are you serio- fine. once a week.” he grumbles. “just get out now, it’s late.”

and so, because you’re fairly certain he’ll let you get away with it, you start showing up every night to see her. 

kuni acts like it’s the biggest inconvenience ever when you turn up at his door every time after that, but he never denies you entry, begrudgingly stepping aside and letting you coddle the little white cat that lives with him. 

you tell him about your day even if he insists he doesn’t care, and still listens intently and tells you about his when you ask in return. you learn more about him this way. he won’t tell you exactly what his job is, only that he works from home and occasionally takes small trips to collect something from people. it’s vague and makes no sense to you, but you don’t pry more than that. 

he’ll sit on the couch while you kneel on the floor and throw her toys around, watching you laugh and fawn over her until he eventually kicks you out. 

you discover that he’s actually incredibly easy to get along with, nowhere near as cold and unapproachable as he looks at first sight. he’s attentive and clever and loves nothing more than to laugh at your expense, but you find that you don’t mind letting him if it means you get to see the frown slip off of his face, even if just for a moment. 

this little routine continues for almost an entire month before one night, kuni shoves his phone in your face with a grim expression. after pushing it away a bit to actually be able to see the screen, your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach. 

it’s a missing pet post, with images of the little white cat attached. 

after reading a bit, the situation becomes clear. her family had gone on vacation and hired someone to watch her, but that person let her escape and never said a word about it. her family didn't find out until they returned to her being gone, and were now clearly frantically searching for her and hoping she was still alive. 

“oh no,” you whisper sadly, looking towards the feline who’s happily curled up on the couch. when you meet kuni’s eyes, he almost looks a bit torn. 

“i’m calling them tomorrow.” he informs you bluntly. 

“wait, but-“ you start, trying to ignore the stinging burn of tears that threaten to fill your eyes. seeing the cat, seeing him, has become something to look forward to in the last month. the thought of seeing her go has a lump forming in your throat, bringing with it the selfish urge to keep her for yourself instead of doing the right thing and taking her back. 

“her family needs her. she needs to go home.” kuni says in a way that shows he’s trying his best to be sympathetic. 

even though he seems fine for the most part, there’s no way he isn’t going to miss her. he took the risk of letting her stay with him, and went out of his way to make sure she was comfortable and well taken care of. 

“i know, you’re right. i just…” you trail off quietly, fingernails digging into your palms. 

kuni meets your eyes, and a moment of silent understanding rushes between you like a heavy current. 

“i know.”

the next day, she gets returned to her very relieved family. kuni takes care of it since you’re not home, and then a  week passes by, as slow and miserable as ever. you have no reason to go over to kuni’s apartment anymore, so you haven’t spoken to him since, and every night you go straight to your own place and spend the evenings by yourself. 

it’s impossible not to miss the sweet little cat, the pleasant trill of her meows and the softness of her sides rubbing against your legs. 

but it’s even more impossible not to miss kuni. the way he always waited for you to stop talking before he answered, the way he would open and close the door for you even while telling you to get out of his hair, the sound of his stifled laughter when you would trip over a cat toy or mess up your words. 

one night, when you come home late as per usual, kuni is sitting at the bottom of the stairs appearing bored out of his mind. you don’t even notice him at first, but when you do your whole body freezes in fear until you realize who it is. 

“you scared me!” you accuse sharply, slightly irked by the unapologetic look on his face. 

he’s as attractive as ever, his red lined eyes creased together in amusement as he watches you gather your bearings. it may just be a trick of the light, but kuni seems almost nervous as he stands up and approaches you. 

“did you eat dinner?” he asks while shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to another. 

“um,” you respond intelligently, willing your eyes not to stray away to his lip rings. “no?”

he clicks his tongue and turns to start climbing up the stairs. “then come on.”

you follow after him wordlessly, having an internal battle the whole way up over whether or not he just asked you out or if you’re reading way too much into this. 

why was he even waiting for you tonight? he barely managed to put up with you whenever you came to pester him and the cat, so there’s no way he’s actually interested in you… right?

“you eat meat, yeah?” kuni asks as he opens the door for you and waits for you to step inside. his apartment is the same as you remember, the only difference being one less cat and a navy throw blanket folded over the back of the couch. 

brushing off the way it makes your heart twinge sadly, you take off your shoes and nod. “yeah, i do.”

“good.”

in the next thirty minutes of comfortable silence that pass, you find yourself sitting on the couch and helplessly watching as kuni moves around the kitchen and prepares something with practiced ease. the sleeves of his sweatshirt are rolled up to his elbows as he works, showing off his pale forearms in an all too distracting way. 

his bangs keep falling into his eyes and every time he tries to blow them out of the way you have to fight back a smile. his hair was a bit shorter when you had first met, so he must be due for a haircut by now. 

it’s strange to think that in the last month you had managed to become so fond of this grumpy stranger who nearly tried to fight you over a lost cat, but there’s no denying the way your heart rate picks up when he glances over and catches you staring every now and then. 

as the delicious smell of stir fry fills the place and your mouth water uncontrollably, you make your way over to the small dining table and take a seat at one of the chairs. kuni carries two plates over and places them down before sitting opposite of you. 

“sooo,” you finally break the silence. “what’s all this about?”

“eat.” kuni ignores you, gesturing to your plate with his fork. 

“but i-“

“eat.” he repeats himself, a bit louder than last time. his violet eyes narrow in your direction when you raise a teasing brow at him. 

“fine.” you huff. when you stab some of the food with your fork and shovel it into your mouth, you can’t stop the shock that spreads over your face as the flavor hits your tongue. 

“it’s good!” you gush in genuine surprise. you never would have thought he was good at cooking. 

“of course it is.” kuni says proudly, finally digging into his own portion. he gives a small satisfactory hum as he chews, and you feel your heart twinge again - this time for another reason entirely. 

“come over again for dinner tomorrow.” he says with no room for negotiation before taking another bite and avoiding your eyes. the tips of his ears are visibly pink despite the low light and you agree easily with a muffled laugh. 

“why are you looking at me like that?” kuni asks suspiciously after he swallows his mouthful, realizing you’ve been watching him a few moments later. 

you smile knowingly and look away. “no reason.”

it seems that as fate would have it, finding that little lost white cat was only the beginning.

[valleydean]

Valley of God [Read chapters 1-4]

a deancas horror au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) halloween horror series

SUMMARY: Dean and Castiel have been dating for a little under a year, and things are going great - or, at least, that's what Dean thought. On the weekend before the summer solstice, Cas is hired to take a group of campers on an excursion through the Appalachian Trail in the Hundred-Mile Wilderness. Much to Cas' shock, Dean tags along. When the campers are attacked by mysterious forces in the forest, they end up in a peculiar town hidden under an eternal mist. Soon, members of their group start to go missing, and Dean can't shake the feeling that something led them to town for a purpose.

PREVIEW:

“Start from the beginning,” Ishim said.

At once, Charlie, Jo, and Victor began talking over each other.

Ishim held up his hand, silencing them. “One at a time.”

Everyone was quiet then, waiting for someone else to talk. When it became apparent no one would, Dean opened his mouth, figuring somebody had to do it.

Cas beat him to the punch: “We were hiking the Appalachian Trail and took a small detour to the ruins at the top of the mountain—”

“The old temple ruins?” Ishim confirmed.

Cas nodded. “We made camp not far from them. Some time in the middle of the night, we were awoken by… To be frank, I’m not sure what it was. Something attacked us. It shook our tents like it was trying to get inside.”

“An animal?” Ishim asked.

Cas shook his head. “No. I… We heard screaming. There were whispers. Some of us saw people in the forest.”

“Can you describe these people?”

“We didn’t get a good look at their faces. It was too dark.”

Ishim hummed. Then, “What happened then?”

“I thought it would be safer if we got off the mountain. I told the others to run,” Cas explained, and Dean narrowed his eyes at the back of his head. He remembered what Cas had said before he left the tent. Something about Dean being safer there. And now he was saying they hadn’t been safe at camp?

It didn’t make a lick of sense.

“We lost each other as we came down the mountain,” Cas was saying. “One of us may still be in the forest. If he isn’t here…” Cas shook his head mournfully down at his lap, but there was something in the line of his shoulders. Dean couldn’t place it. “I’m afraid he might be hurt.”

“Look, is it possible it was people from the town playing a prank?” Victor cut in.

Ishim sat back in his chair, not taking a second to mull it over. He shook his head immediately. “No. We keep to ourselves. We don’t get many outsiders.”

“You’re telling me,” Jo grumbled, probably thinking the same things Dean was.

The clothes, the streetlamps, the cobblestones, the town marshal? It all looked like something out of a 1800s period drama. Dean felt like he’d just stepped out of a time machine.

“Where are we?” Charlie asked.

Ishim said, “Nahaliel.”

Dean frowned. “That’s the name of the town? Kinda a mouthful.”

“It means Valley of God,” Ishim told him, shooting Dean a hostile look. Dean didn’t really care what the name meant!

Suddenly, the door swung open again. Dean jolted, at the end of his rope. He wasn’t the only one, because everyone whipped around, too.

Benjamin came back inside, two other people in tow. First was a slender guy who, even though it was the middle of the night, was dressed in a three-piece suit with a collarless shirt held together by a diamond stickpin. His shoulders were held back, making him look taller and more imposing than he actually was. Behind him, there was a stern-looking woman in a white blouse tucked into a long skirt. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun. An antique carved ivory cameo brooch was pinned to her collar.

Ishim stood up and said, “This is Raphael. He’s Nahaliel’s acting leader.”

Leader. Not mayor or governor. Leader.

Acting leader, actually. Dean didn’t know if it was worth it to ask what happened to their regular one. He really didn’t give a shit, anyway, considering how many other things were going on. Either way, these people were weird as hell.

Dean figured they must be Mennonite or something. That was the only explanation he could come up with.

“Raphael, these people were camping near the ruins on the mountain. They said something attacked them. One of them is still missing.”

“I see,” Raphael said. His tone was deep and dark, baritone. It shook inside the hollow of Dean’s bones. He spoke with absolutely no inflection at all. “Your friend?” He stood to the side of Ishim’s desk and gave them all the once-over. Dean felt himself tense when the guy’s eyes briefly passed over him. Like Raphael’s voice, his expression was unyielding and emotionless.

“Their friend,” Cas corrected. “They were on a tour. I’m their guide.” He said the last part sullenly, like he was blaming himself for what happened. For losing Garth. Dean’s heart tugged before he remembered he was mad at Cas.

Recovering, Cas looked up at Raphael again and said, “My name is Castiel.”

“Castiel,” Raphael repeated. “You were the guide for all…” He inspected everyone else again, like he was counting them. “Six of them?”

Dean’s forehead wrinkled. It was kind of a weird thing to say. Maybe the guy was just trying to figure out if everyone else was accounted for.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cas pull his shoulders back. “Yes. Including Garth.”

“The one who is missing?”

Cas nodded. “We thought, maybe, he saw the lights of your town and came here but…” He paused, and Dean could practically hear the cogs in his head turning. When he spoke again, he asked, “This town. How long have you been here?”

“A long time,” Raphael answered. “We were founded centuries ago.”

“That’s impossible. I’ve been this way hundreds of times. I’ve never seen this place.”

Dean tensed his fists on his lap, because Garth was still out there and they were getting off topic.

“Yet, here we are,” Raphael said.

“But—” Cas started.

Dean cut him off, “Who the hell cares?” He stood up, ready to go back into the damn woods and find Garth himself if he had to. “We’re wasting time standing around here with our dicks in our hands. Meanwhile, Garth’s still out there with who the hell knows what!”

“We will find your friend,” Raphael told him, slow and measured, and maybe Dean was just freaked out and overreacting, but this didn’t feel like the usual removed, calm public service guy attitude found in cops taking witness statements. Raphael was starting to piss him off.

Finally, Raphael turned to Ishim and said, “Form a search party and begin looking immediately.”

Ishim nodded, seeming ready to hop to it.

“Great!” Dean bit out. “I’m coming, too.”

“Me, too,” Victor said, his chair legs scraping on the wooden floor as he got up. Benny leaned off the wall.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve all been through an ordeal,” the woman who’d walked in with Raphael finally spoke. Everyone in the room turned to her. “You should rest. Let us handle the search.”

Dean told her, “Look, lady—”

“Naomi.”

“Right. Naomi,” he said, trying not to lose his patience. “I don’t think any of us are gonna rest very well until we find Garth. He’s our buddy.”

“And our people know these woods,” Naomi returned pleasantly. “There’s no sense in another one of you getting lost out there. Our marshal will find your friend quicker without you. In the meantime, there’s space for each of you at the inn. I’ll take you there. It isn’t far.”

Dean was still wary, even though the reasoning made sense. He looked at the others, trying to gauge what they were thinking. All of them shared uncertain looks with one another.

Cas sighed and relented, “Yes. Thank you.”

“Excellent. If you’ll follow me.”

Maybe all of them were just too bone-tired to do anything but go with the flow, but they all followed Naomi out of the marshal’s office. Together, they started down the street.

Ahead of him, Charlie and Jo had their arms around each other as they spoke in soft voices. Victor and Benny were looking around at their surroundings. Cas kept his head down, his shoulders tucked up to his ears.

Dean figured now was as good a time as any.

He rushed to Cas’ side and demanded, “You wanna tell me what the fuck all that was about at camp?��

Cas looked at him, expression drawn but eyes deep wells of emotion. “Dean, I promise, I’ll explain everything later.”

No way. Not good enough.

Dean stopped walking abruptly and grabbed Cas’ arm, manhandling him around. “Yeah, how ‘bout you explain now?”

Cas’ gaze roamed Dean’s face. His mouth was open, like he’d start talking at any second, but he never did. Dean didn’t know if he was searching for an excuse or what, but his patience was running out.

Cas inhaled. “Dean—”

“Please keep up! The mist is thick tonight. We wouldn’t want you losing your way,” Naomi called from up ahead, pausing to look back at them. The others did, too, all of them blinking Dean and Cas’ way.

Slight embarrassment uncurled in Dean’s gut. He looked back at Cas, whose face was shored up into a neutral mask again. Cas dipped his chin down and started walking after the others.

Dean flapped his arms against his sides in defeat and stomped after him.

[banannabethchase]

Matt's rideshare never shows up and Adam sees him waiting outside the arena (or is this too close to the road trip au?)

or Adam is at the mall and sees Matt in a shoe store. It's the first time he's seen Matt without Nick in a while and he's working up the courage to go say hi when Matt beats him to it.

You Can Have the Best of Me - Also on AO3

~

Jet Blue lost Adam's luggage, so he ends up at the local mall to find some backup clothes. And guess who he runs into.

~

I went with the second one. Sort of? I did the thing again where I technically hit the prompt but also missed it entirely.

~

Adam's a little embarrassed, walking around the mall in a white undershirt. Jet Blue lost his luggage again, and now he's at a local mall he's never been to, looking like a schlubby mess.

He can only hope nobody sees him. The sunglasses and baseball cap with his hair tucked into it should work, the Marvel hero disguise being more effective than it should be, but he's still hesitant.

"I know you said you don't have them out front, but could you look in the back, pretty please?"

Adam's boots literally squeak as he stops in front of a store. He lowers his glasses to confirm: yep. Matt Jackson, giving his patented boo-boo eyes up at a store clerk.

"Um," the store clerk says, clearly taken off guard. "I - sure, I can. I'll check."

"Thank you so much," Matt says.

"You gotta be more careful about who you aim those at."

Adam chuckles as Matt jumps a foot. "Who - wait, Adam?"

Adam pulls off the sunglasses and tucks them in the collar of the undershirt. "Hey, man."

"I didn't recognize you in," he looks Adam up and down, "that. And what do you mean? Aim what at who?"

"The eyes?" Adam says. Matt stares at him blankly. “Come on, you can’t be serious.”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?” And Matt starts pouting, the boo-boo eyes kicking in.

Adam stares at him. “You’re doing it right now. That – you have to know that’s a thing you do. Your eyes get all big and wide, and you look really cute and inno –” Adam cuts himself off. Matt’s eyes, somehow, get even bigger.

“I do?” he asks. He frows a little, brow furrowing. “I didn’t know I did that.”

“Have you watched a single promo of yours back?” Adam laughs. “You do it, like, all the time. I wouldn’t say constant, but I’d say it’s close.”

Matt’s eyes go a little distant. “I do boo-boo eyes almost constantly?”

“Don’t – okay, it’s not a bad thing, Matty, it’s part of your charm.” Adam is saying too much. He can’t stop. “It’s one of the reasons everybody likes you even when you’re being a little shit.”

Matt smiles at that, looking back up at Adam through those long lashes. “That was a pretty long string of compliments from somebody who’s barely spoken to me in two years.”

Adam shrugs, pretending like he’s not blushing. “I speak only the truth.”

Matt presses his lips together, breaking eye contact. “It’s also the first time you’ve called me Matty since – since…”

Matt doesn’t have to say how long it’s been. They both know the last day the two of them spoke without spitting venom.

“Anyway,” Adam says, unwilling to sit in the ache of nostalgia any longer, “what shoes are you looking at?”

Matt goes on a two minute rant about whatever the hell he’s putting on his feet that’s only interrupted by the flustered looking store clerk carrying four boxes in his hands and setting them gingerly on the counter in front of Matt.

“I found the ones you want, sort of,” the clerk says, a little breathless. “One’s in a size too small, one’s in a half size too big, and two are in the wrong color, but it’s the best I can do.”

Matt targets those big cow eyes at the guy and beams. “Oh, this is so good. Thank you so much, uh, Jeremy.”

The clerk turns bright pink and trips over his feet as he darts back behind the register.

“Of c-course,” he stammers, unable to keep eye contact with Matt. Adam’s been on that side before, more than once. “Just let me know if you need anything else.”

Adam helps Matt carry the shoes to a space where Matt can try them on and test out the colors.

“You really don’t see it?” he mutters as he leans back in a chair. “You rendered that dude nearly catatonic because you were boo-boo eying him so hard.”

Matt frowns as he pulls on a shoe and shakes his head. “Is that why people do that around me?”

“When your shirt’s on, yeah,” Adam says. “If you’re half naked, people are just popping boners over your biceps.”

Matt fumbles the shoe in his hand, half diving to the floor to keep it from falling. “Jesus, Adam, you can’t just say stuff like that,” he mumbles.

“Why not?” Adam asks. “Not like I haven’t said it before.” Not like pretending we didn’t used to be in love would make this less awkward.

“I – okay, yes, but it’s still.” Matt looks up, and it’s Adam’s turn to get nailed with the boo-boo eyes. “It’s not the same anymore.”

“It’s not,” Adam says. He sits up. “But, maybe, you know, it could be.” He shakes his head. “Jesus, you’re doing it again!”

“Doing what?!”

“The eyes!” Adam says. “You hit somebody with those and nobody can think straight.”

Matt’s lips quirk. “That suggests you’ve ever been able to think straight.”

“Oh, shut up,” Adam says, smiling easily. “But you see it now, right? You look at people all big eyed and they just melt for you.”

“Not everybody,” Matt says. “At least, not always.”

Adam senses an opening, a moment he hadn’t known he’d been waiting for falling into his lap. “I mean,” he says slowly, “always, for me.”

Matt freezes, foot half into his shoe. “Really?”

“Even when I hated you, Matty,” Adam says quietly, “they always worked on me.”

Matt quietly takes the shoe and wraps it in its paper neatly. He’s sure to put every shoe back in its box, stacks the boxes precariously, and carries them over to the clerk.

“Hello,” he says, “I’ll take these two,” he says, handing the guy the two shoes Adam thinks were blue and pink, respectively.

Adam knows Matt enough to know that this intense calm bodes a much bigger reaction once the space is less public, and begins to panic. He overstepped. He went too fast too soon. He missed the mark on what was teasing and what went too far. Every possible scenario of how he fucked up rushes through his head so fast he can hear the blood roaring in his ears, and doesn’t even process it when Matt takes his hand and walks him out of the store.

“Adam,” Matt says, “do you mean it?”

Adam blinks. “What?”

“Do you mean it,” Matt says again, “about – the eye thing I do. How it always works on you?”

Adam nods. “I – I do. I’m sorry. I made it weird. I didn’t. I should have thought. Matty, I’m sorry if I messed anything up.”

Then, in the mall, where anyone could see them, Matt grabs a handful of Adam’s shirt collar, yanks him down, and kisses him. It’s what Matt would never do before – kissing in public, where people could see him, where what they meant to each other was on display to everyone. His head’s swimming in a different way though, in the aching familiarity of Matt’s lips and the baffling novelty of kissing him in front of other people. He hardly has time to kiss back before Matt is pulling away.

“First, we’re getting you a real shirt,” Matt says, breathing hard, “because this is ridiculous.” Adam can’t help but laugh at that. “And then we’re going back to the hotel and you’re explaining what you mean and what all this is about.”

Adam nods. “Okay,” he says quietly.

Matt pulls him through the aisle of multiple department stores, picking out two separate outfits for him: one for tomorrow and one for the show tonight.

He flies through the shirts like a man on a mission, picking patterns Adam would never have touched with a ten foot pole with a, “This’ll look great with black skinny jeans. Gotta be tight though,” muttered so quietly Adam half thinks he wasn’t supposed to hear it.

“Go try these on,” Matt says, and he looks at Adam kind of weird. Eyes bulging a little bit, eyebrows shot up halfway to his hairline.

“What are you doing with your face?”

“That’s not the eyes?” Matt asks. He drops it, frowning. “I thought that’s what I was doing.”

“Not even close,” Adam says. “You looked possessed.”

“Oh, nice thing to say to the guy who’s about to buy you new clothes,” Matt says, rolling his eyes.

“What?” Adam asks. “No, I’m –”

“No,” Matt says, and this time it’s firm, eyes steady. “I am.”

Adam’s not willing to argue.

After a few switch outs where Matt is mildly annoying to a dressing room attendant who gets about a hundred apologies from Adam, Matt is satisfied with the two outfits.

“We’ll get you changed in the bathroom,” Matt says. “Can’t have people see you in ratty jeans and an undershirt.”

“Nobody saw me come into the mall,” Adam says, rolling his eyes as Matt slaps his hand away from his wallet and throws down his own credit card for the cashier.

“That’s because you were being all undercover weirdo,” Matt says. “If you’re with me, they’ll notice you. It’s us.” He says the last word with the kind of emphasis that makes Adam feel a little shivery, like they’re an us again, like he might get back what he’d thought was gone forever.

Matt half shoves Adam into the bathroom of the fancy department store. There’s a couch in the corner, décor everywhere. It’s even nicer than the department store itself, well lit and decorated. There’s even a little rug in front of the couch.

“Wait a second,” Matt says, and he gets a smile on his face that’s all too familiar to Adam. He locks the door. “Um. You have to get changed.”

“Yeah.” Adam knows where this is going. But he doesn’t want to hope, in case he’s wrong. “I, uh. I do.”

Matt throws himself on the couch, folding his legs under himself with a big smile. “So? Get going.”

“Are – are you asking me to give you a strip tease?”

Matt shrugs. “I mean. I would like to see you in all those nice clothes I bought you.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Would you, now.”

Matt nods, and the boo-boo eyes come back, sincere and sweet.

“Jesus, you and those goddamned eyes,” Adam mutters, but he begins to undress, starting with his shirt.

“I should put on music with this,” Matt muses, adjusting on the couch.

“You don’t know what’s been on there,” Adam laughs, hands going to his belt. “Or who. Or what’s been done.”

“Nothing worse than what I plan to do once you get those jeans off.”

Adam’s hand slips. “Oh.”

The boo-boo eyes hit him full force. “Is that okay?”

“Is that okay. Really.” Adam gives up on waiting, on hesitating, on letting his anxiety run the show, and walks up to the couch. He leans down and kisses Matt, sliding his fingers into Matt’s hair to pull out the hair tie and let that soft, dark hair float down Matt’s back.

“There we go,” Adam says as Matt sighs against him. Matt’s hands go to Adam’s belt and finishes undoing it, then takes care of the button and the zipper in one go. Adam’s suddenly cold.

“Jesus,” Adam says, a little embarrassed at how hard he already is.

“Can I?” Matt asks, and he looks up at Adam with such open wanting that Adam feels like he might pass out from it. “Adam, can I?”

“Can you what?”

“You’re gonna make me say it,” Matt says, rolling those big eyes. “You always make me say it. Fine. Adam, can I please suck your dick.” His eyes flicker down to it, then back up to Adam’s face. “Please?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Adam slides his fingers into Matt’s hair as Matt’s mouth slides around his cock. He forgot how well they work together, how smoothly their bodies connect and how effortless it is to fall into Matt’s warmth, no matter what form.

Adam can’t keep track of time, of anything but the little contented sounds coming from Matt the way he flicks his eyes up and gazes at Adam like this is the only place he’s ever wanted to be. He does everything he can not to fuck into the warmth without abandon. He won’t ruin the moment.

Matt hasn’t changed in the few years they’ve been apart, still focused and determined and so damned good at sucking dick. Adam’s legs are shaking while he stands, and he smooths his fingers along Matt’s hair.

“Baby,” he lets himself say, meaning it for the first time in years, “Matty, I’m close.”

Matt pulls off just long enough to say, “Yeah, I know,” then slides back onto him, does the same thing with his tongue that always worked to get Adam to the point of no return. It still works its magic, and Adam comes in Matt’s mouth, head thrown back as he fights the urge to yell. They’re still in a mall, after all.

“Get over here,” Adam growls, and all concerns he’d had about the couch before are gone as he pushes Matt down and sinks to his knees, grabbing Matt’s hips so he half slides off the couch.

“Hold on!” Matt laughs, fixing the waistband and pushing it down. “Jeez, I don’t remember you ever being this eager.”

“It’s been a while,” Adam says.

Matt sighs as Adam gets his mouth around his cock. “It has.”

It’s kind of like riding a bike, with how automatically he remembers how to make Matt squirm, how easy it is to get Matt’s fingers tangled in his hair and his voice whimpering little staccato sighs that catch in the air and settle around Adam.

He reaches up and catches Matt’s hands, their fingers sliding together, and Matt makes a sweet little sound.

Adam looks up at him, pulling off. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, breathless. “I just – I forgot how. How you you are, you know?”

Adam frowns. “Not really.” He slides his mouth back around Matt, sensing Matt’s close by the tension in his thighs, the way his feet rise up on his toes and his hand tightens in Adam’s.

“I missed you, is all,” Matt gasps. “And – oh, wait, Adam, I’m gonna –” But he doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, because Adam swallows him down and squeezes his hand as Matt squirms through it.

“Okay,” Matt says. “Okay, too much, I – oh, god.”

Adam laughs as he pulls off Matt’s cock, grinning up at him. “So sensitive.”

“Shut up,” Matt mumbles, burying his face in his arm. His breathing slows to normal. “So we just had sex in the bathroom of a Nordstrom.”

“Yup,” Adam says, ensuring his clothes are in the right place. He plops down on the couch next to Matt.

“This place is fancy.”

“Yup.”

Matt wrinkles his nose. “You think they have cameras?”

Adam scoffs. “Come on, baby, don’t pretend like you get shy on film.”

Matt blushes again. “Don’t – okay, that was a special occasion.”

“Three special occasions, if I remember correctly.” Adam nudges Matt’s shoulder with his. “You okay?”

“Okay?” Matt asks. He turns to Adam. “I’m kind of freaking out. Like, what is this? What’s it mean?”

“Well,” Adam says, suddenly a little hesitant. “I, uh. I thought you buying me clothes and the getting naked in a bathroom meant we’re,” he forces himself to continue, “back together.”

Matt’s eyes go big again, and Adam melts for them. “We are?” he says. Like it’s a question. Like Adam could say anything but yes.

“I kind of hope so, otherwise this is a weird one bathroom stand.”

Matt rolls his eyes with a little smile. “That’s not how that phrase works.”

“It could be,” Adam says, standing. He holds out a hand to Matt, who takes it and pulls himself up. “We don’t know everybody’s sex lives.”

“Glad we don’t,” Matt says. “You wouldn’t believe what Nick and Christian got up to the other day.”

“Christian,” Adam says as the two of them gather their things. “Really.”

“Yeah, he’s into older guys lately.” Matt rolls his eyes and fixes his clothes, then checks his hair in the mirror. “I look okay?”

“You look great, like always,” Adam says, fixing a stray strand of hair. “It’s kind of annoying.” Adam pulls on the new clothes, the outfit Matt had specifically picked for the rest of the day. “How do I look?”

“Great, like always,” Matt echoes. He scoots forward and kisses Adam gently with a hand curled around the bottom hem of the shirt. A little possessive, all Matt.

Matt leaves first, then Adam a few minutes later, and they manage to get out of the mall before anybody recognizes them and they get swarmed for autographs.

“Matt!” says one person, “Matt, what about the rumors that you and a certain blonde are together?”

Matt’s shitty poker face hasn’t changed, Adam notices. “What?”

“Taya Valkyrie’s appearance on AEW ignite a flame?” the guy asks, winking.

Matt actually throws his head back and laughs. “She’s great but, uh. Not my type.”

“What is your type?”

Matt opens his mouth, then turns to Adam.

And Adam nods.

Matt gives him the best version of the boo-boo eyes Adam’s ever seen. “Anxious millennial cowboy.”

Then, for the first time, they kiss in front of cameras.

~

MIni Playlist: Wait a Minute - Sub-Radio Dear Boy - Avicii The Best of Me - The Starting Line If You Love Someone - The Veronicas

[catharrington]

Part 8!!! Cat boy house husband Steve and his gorgeous milk man billy au!!!! Just one more part left ahhhhhh how the turns have tabled 😼😼 previous parts link: cat boy and milk man au

Tag list @withoneheadlight @spreckle @harringrovetrashh @magellan-88 thanks🖤🖤

You’re nobody ‘till somebody loves you

***

Steve thought about that lost look in Billy’s eyes as he walked away and kept thinking about it as he stumbled inside his living room. Their living room.

Looking around at the pastel colored walls, decorated across the hallway with their wedding photos in mirror finished silver frames, it never felt like home. It always felt like he was pretending and settling. Like a house cat with a polished silver bell on his collar.

He was tired of his husband knowing his every move. The little bell around his neck glinting in the low sunlight every afternoon as Mr. Smith came home.

Steve would sit at attention. Wag his tail like a dog. Let his husband touch him anywhere, do anything he ever wanted.

Acidic bile rose up in his throat just thinking about it. Thinking how he’s spent a whole year wasting his life away sitting at attention wishing, just fucking wishing, that Mr. Smith would throw him a bone.

That he would revert back to the gentleman facade he used to buy Steve in the first place.

But now Steve knew. With Billy’s blood still under his claws. He knew it was a crumbling shell of a life.

Steve lumbered over to his writing desk, his robe shifting and spilling all around him dramatically. The feline part of him really enjoyed the way it draped across the floor as he spilled into his bamboo-back chair. His bare legs kicked out, as well as his long tail, and it almost made him giggle.

Steve reached into the pockets of his robe and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Withdrew another one, lit it, and held it to his lips like a starving cat.

“What the hell are you doing?” His husband asked from the emptiest area of their living room. Empty along with his hollow heart.

“Killing myself,” Steve said. The cigarette bobbing in his lips. And laughed slightly.

Mr. Smith was wearing his sleeping pants hung low on his hips. His white t-shirt was wrinkled. It made Steve think about all the times Billy and his silly looking milk man uniform was so well pressed.

Just like the white shaft between Steve’s lips as he lifts it to press there. In his most softest parts, in the wet places of him. His lips still feel raw from the intrusion of Billy’s mouth there. He lingers dragging the filter against the sore inside of his lips, the taste of any spit not his own.

He savors it. Licking across the filter of his smoke the same way he licks across the edge of his morning coffee to savor the milk there.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Mr. Smith asks, bewildered.

Steve had halfway forgotten about him. “Does this look like a joke?” Steve asks back. The cigarette jumping in his pouting lips. He reaches into his pocket and finds the pack of matches, the single remaining match. It strikes as good as any. Leaves his fingertips burning as he lifts it to the tobacco. “Am I laughing?” He giggles again slightly, before holding his breath so the ash may better coat his lungs.

Mr. Smith watches with a perplexed look on his face as Steve exhales the smoke.

His name is Richard, Steve thinks vaguely about how he used to call him by his name. Not just a shadow of what his name used to be. What a man he used to be.

“I had no idea you’ve been smoking?” Mr. Smith grits out.

“I’ve been doing a lot of things you don’t know about.” Steve feels like the end of a line on his typewriter. Loud and unstoppable. Even if he’s never touched Billy beyond his fully capable fingertips before tonight, his husband doesn’t need to know that.

And in his dreams, in the ink he writes while safely asleep, he’s been with Billy many times.

“That’s for damn sure, Honey.” Mr. Smith crosses his arms over his chest. Puffs himself up nicely.

It makes Steve’s whole insides flip in fear, in such a familiar way. I’m a way he’s be taught to fear that pose and everything that follows it. He sucks down a harsh breath to try and control the way every part of him is afraid at such a stupid, little motion.

Steve’s arm is shaking as he holds the cigarette with his entire open hand. His fingers opened up like flower petals and protected his shivering face. His trembling lips, bitten raw with kisses. Bitten raw with being treated well for the first time in what felt like forever.

Looking down at the match book sitting on his writing desk, now empty; he remembers when he promised Richard forever.

Is this going to be what he has to settle for, forever?

“I should be the one who’s getting angry, getting irrational,” Mr. Smith says as he walks closer. Arms still crossed. “I should be the one raising my voice. But I’m not. I’m going to stay calm. And do you know why, darling?”

Steve bobbed his head, then noticed vaguely as his cigarette ashes across the table top. It felt foreign to him. Just as that question felt answerless.

Without waiting for a reply, Mr. Smith cupped his hand around Steve’s jaw. Lifting his head so that they can meet eye to eye. He’s nothing particular to look at. Not bright and blue and warm. No ocean water to dive into. To feel safely wrapping around his body.

Steve’s ears flatten down across the top of his head as he waits.

“Because I know that you know what you did was wrong.” Mr. Smith clarifies. “And I know how to train a spoiled house cat when it urinates on the carpet. With patience. So I will allow you to apologize. Tell me: it will never happen again.”

Steve’s tears pricked at the side with tears. The cigarette left burning without a place to go was creating a cloud of smoke around his face. The twirling circles felt like his own life, gone in a gust not of his own control. He couldn’t turn his head. The grip on his jaw was far too hard. He tried, growling slowly and flashing his fangs, but the hand did not let up.

“Tell me,” his husband ordered, “say it.”

Steve opened his mouth… and then closed it.

He thought of a bundle of paper all wrapped up in twine. Brought back carefully folded in the same way it was lent out. Still warm with body heat. He thought of the way those pages felt pressed against his lips. How they were nothing compared to actually kissing the man of his dreams.

Steve opened his mouth and said: “No.”

Mr. Smith’s hand dropped in a stuttering question. His eyes blinked a couple times. And Steve wanted to take another drag. But the hand around his throat was still so heavy. Weighing him down like an iron collar.

He sucked in a deep breath that tasted like smoke and salt water and Billy, and closed his eyes.

“I want a divorce!” Steve blurted out.

[agent-cupcake]

As a resident Claudefucker, I know am curious to know what our fave charming schemer is doing during this Mafia!AU. He'd look lovely in a suit.

~It was quite the headline when Godfrey Riegan died. The details are a little hazy, a little convenient, but people don't talk about that sort of thing. Car accidents are common. Tragic, but not unreasonable. There’s no reason to smear a man’s perfectly respectable political career for the sake of some sensational gossip.

~In the right circles, however, there was a huge uproar, questions about who was going to take over the Riegan family when the elderly boss Oswald died. The Riegan’s had been dominating Leicester for quite some time, but a lot of people began to predict that the Gloucester family was going to move in. They had powerful friends, it seemed. Friends with money, no less.

~Claude Riegan, grandson of Oswald, appeared out of nowhere just when he was needed. Stories of the lost daughter Tiana still circulated, sure, but there were still a lot of questions about Claude’s origins when nobody except Oswald were able to vouch for him. He obviously had military leadership experience—his skill with guns and ability to lead was just too excellent for any other explanation—but he dismissed the question out of hand. There’s no documentation of him, either, leading some to wonder if even his name was false. But Oswald said he was family, and that was that.

~Claude was quick to establish himself, in any case. Despite his cavalier attitude, his efficacy in overhauling the power dynamics of Leicester were profound.  

~He decided, first and foremost, that the way to win the people over was to invigorate the local culture, which had seen a sharp decline as a result of new laws that were unfavorable to business, Adrestia’s growing market monopolies, and the bad reputation of the red light district Ailell. This included some perfectly legitimate campaigning and some under the table type schemes. 

~The result was a flourishing Derdriu Street. While it lacks the prestige of Enbarr Square in Adrestia, it welcomes entertainment that would be considered too “low brow” like comedy, trendy new restaurants, and music venues. Even better, all of it is built on the recently cleaned up river. The Riegan family is involved in all of  it, of course. 

~Casino owner Claude. This exists solely to thirst but maybe it was preexisting and he took it over due to its poor management? If there’s going to be gambling anyway, it should be done right. The extra money’s not so bad, either. But, Claude lounging in a big leather chair in a dark blue blazer with gold brocade, his white shirt unbuttoned low enough to see enough his chest. Enough to make you drool. Enough that you’d definitely get caught staring and probably called out for it because he can’t help himself. Claude with his elbows on the arm rests and fingers folded in front of him as he considers you, gold rings winking because he’s just that ostentatious and appearances are important. Claude asking you how you feel about taking risks in a way that really feels like it has nothing to do with cards, staring at you with a friendly smile that doesn’t meet those calculating eyes—eyes that you know will pick up on every tell. 

~Claude also struck a deal with the Kupala Distillery. They’d been fighting to keep hold of their historic business for years, and Claude offered to help them with that. You know, not for free, but he’s good at making deals that leave everybody happy. 

~The second biggest thing he tackled was the drug trade. For the most part, no one family had ever had a complete handle on that market. The Goneril’s had a hold over the docks for years, but the Edmunds had been moving in and working with the Gloucester family to bolster their power. Distribution was scattered and hard to keep track of as it ultimately circulated wherever there was a profit to be made. Looking at it like this, Claude decided that the only way to fix things was to take control over all of it. In his line of work, shady things like the drug trade are impossible to avoid. At the very least, if he has control over it, he can ensure the product is clean and expel far more unsavory ventures.

~Through these escapades, Claude was able to make alliances with all of the major families. A lot of them had only remained loyal to the Gloucester family out of fear so as soon as they had an alternative, they bolted. This has an unfortunate side effect of revealing how his power is perceived. Every day is a balancing act for Claude. He allows each family to function as they please as long as they’re aware they do so at his mercy. It’s better to keep friends than to control enemies, but even that requires a delicate maneuvering of power.

~However, Claude likes the conflict. He enjoys the game and he especially enjoys winning the game. There’s a certain level of his excusing amorality for the sake of his family and Leicester, but there’s an equal part of him that understands his wrongdoings and deals with it separately. He wouldn’t hold to the naïve “ends justify the means” idea to excuse himself, but he would still argue that his actions have value and are even necessary. If it weren’t him, it would be somebody a lot worse than him. That’s probably something that would linger in the back of everybody’s minds whenever they shook his hand or paid their respects, whenever they began to think of how easy it would be to take him out. Fear, too. So far, Claude’s never done anything shockingly bad, only what was necessary. But with his power and intellect, it’s always a question of what he could do.

~If someone asked him that, Claude would smile that friendly smile and tell them that he would do anything to see his vision made real. Whether or not that’s true remains to be seen. 

~Luckily, Claude’s not alone! Hilda is the stereotypical crime family princess. She joined Claude because he offered her freedom from the overbearing control of her father and brother. Her skill in manipulating everybody around her combined with her reputation as a ditzy rich girl makes her fantastic at gathering information, assuming Claude can get her to do so. But, as long as he’s not being too forceful, she’s surprisingly motivated to weave her way through social circles and charm everyone. Although she would never say it, the order he brought to Leicester, not to mention the entertainment, made everything a lot better for her and her family. Plus, she likes being useful after spending her entire life watching Holst give his heart and soul to family while she did nothing. Ultimately, the information she provides is essential and her relationship with Claude is one of the few either have that’s built on trust, respect, and loyalty. That said, sometimes even Claude gets a little shiver as he watches how easily Hilda can manipulate people.  

~Lorenz was one of Claude’s most disdainful detractors, although a part of that was jealousy. Claude just swept in and did things that Lorenz had been waiting and planning to do once he became the head of the Gloucester family. Even after being on the receiving ends of such vicious attacks, once Claude undeniably had the upper hand in Leicester, he went behind the Gloucester boss’s back to Lorenz and told him that they were going to be friends or enemies, it was Lorenz’s choice. Not threatening him, just pointing out that the fall of the Gloucester family was inevitable under his father’s leadership and that Lorenz didn’t have to suffer for his father’s sins. Probably over mimosas and brunch. Lorenz is proud and has no appreciation for Claude, but he’s not stupid. After they worked out their disagreements and more or less accepted each other, Lorenz and Claude became pretty close. Claude knows that having someone to openly and aggressively disagree with him isn’t a bad thing. Not only that, but Lorenz’s a solid ally with a better grasp on some of the things Claude has difficulty with due to not being a native. Lorenz is willing to admit that Claude is a good leader.

~Marianne is well educated in the realm of the law and political action. The reason the Edmund family saw such success despite their lesser status was because of her adopted father’s genius. which he made sure to share with Marianne. She is invaluable in aiding Claude on the perfectly legitimate side of his business, and helping him hide his tracks for the shady stuff. Raphael is the muscle. Lysithea is a computer genius. Being a sickly shut in with issues that only recently saw treatment, she’s on the Mr. Robot level of hacker mode activated. Ignatz is an architect which is useful since so much of Claude’s power is in the property and infrastructure. He also designed a lot of places to have some neat-o hidey holes. Claude loves buildings that have secrets. Leonie is manages a lot of the physical and pettier side of the work. If someone’s stirring up trouble, she’s likely to pay them a visit as a warning before Claude has to get involved. She used to be a mercenary but being on Claude’s payroll is a lot better of a gig.    

~As for the suits, one thing is very important. Claude would not, under any circumstances, wear something tight on his thighs. I actually kind of like the idea of him going for a 1980′s style modernized. In his post timeskip outfit, he’s already got a hint of that going on with how oversized his outfit looks. The 80′s (rightfully) gets a bad rep for fashion, but it’s also very iconic with those wide-collared suit jackets, matchy-matchy three piece suits, sportscoats with a fun patterned shirt underneath, open blazers, pleated pants with an oversized jacket, and—in particular—the trend of summer suits in shades of tan and cream with colored shirts underneath. Then, combine that with a pair of Ray-Ban Aviators and a topless convertible and you’ve got a distinctly recognizable mob boss who doubles as a devastating heartthrob. I’m not saying he’d do a 1:1 recreation, but you’d definitely see references to the fashion of the era in his outfits. He would wear oxfords or ankle boots. Whatever it was, they’d have to be comfortable. He also doesn’t shy away from jewelry. The earring, of course, and rings when he's feeling particularly decadent. When he’s wearing his shirts unbuttoned Claude could possibly wear a gold chain. I mean, what are you gonna say, no? That gold doesn’t look gorgeous against his skin? That it’s tacky? You’re talking to the man who wore quilted pants. Claude’s not afraid to stand out because he knows he will anyway, nor is he afraid to be seen as unfashionable because he doesn’t particularly care about trends. I also enjoy the idea of him emulating the 80′s as someone who didn’t grow up in a western culture and thus mainly saw things through the lens of movies. Whatever he wears, however, he would look very handsome.

[glitxhwayventeen]

A Different Kind Of Love…

Wonwoo: Chapter 2 (All I Ask)

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, smut (it got dirty fast my bad), breeding kinks, creampie, oral sex (female), pet names, dirty talk, biting (but y’all knew that this was a wolf fic so you should’ve been known about that one), angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, cheating (maybe?), violence mentions. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to All I Ask by Adele. The song just has this need to it that I was trying to convey in this chapter. It was just really… necessary.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

Some 🥀, a little ☁️ towards the end, but mainly 💋

A Different Kind Of Love… Master List

Chapter 2: All I Ask

“What- what do you mean you aren’t ready for it?” Wonwoo asked, still so completely stunned at your last remark, he was unsure that you had actually said it.

You had moved to his room as you wanted to head back inside once it had started to rain. He ran his hand through his damp hair in frustration before he looked back to you for an answer.

“I mean, your girlfriend JUST tried to kill me in a fit of jealousy. But I thought SHE was your mate, not me. I’ve- I’ve never even been in a relationship before. How am I supposed to just jump into one with you when yours isn’t even really over yet? Everything’s too… messed up” You explained, sitting down on his bed, brushing out your soaked locks with your fingers.

“I know it’s not really… normal. But we’re wolves. None of what we do is normal…” Wonwoo tried to reason as he resettled his glasses on his face after having cleaned the water droplets off of them.

“No it’s not. But being a wolf doesn’t give me the right to be a home wrecker. How am I supposed to be with you knowing that I’m the reason your relationship is ending?” You questioned, tears starting to brim your vision when you looked down at your hands to distract yourself from your anger at the entire situation you found yourself in, “I don’t want to be the cause of someone else’s misery. Even if I never really thought she was a good person, Song deserves better than this. I mean, have you even broke up with her yet?” You managed to whimper out.

“Of course I did!” Wonwoo defended himself, “Or at least, I thought I did. I didn’t necessarily say those exact words, but she knows she fucked up too badly to continue coming back here.” He spoke, seeming to be trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

You scoffed in annoyance and crossed your arms over your chest in a huff.

“So you didn’t ACTUALLY end things with her? See this is what the fuck I’m talking about! You ARE just as confused as I KNOW I am. How the hell are we supposed to be with each other? I refuse to just be some sort of mistress to somebody, even if my instincts are telling me otherwise. Whether you’re my mate or not, I can resist them” you declared, looking him dead in the eyes with complete seriousness.

“But I can’t! I’ve been trying. It’s not working! I’m already in love with you. I don’t care what happens with Song. Sure I’ll always care about her because of everything we’ve been through together, but I love YOU. I want YOU.” He responded, getting closer to you on his bed and taking your face in his hands.

Your heart started to race at the minimal contact. His hands were so warm and soft, you could’ve just started to melt into them with ease. Usually you’d have asked for your space, but you felt comfortable with him touching you. In fact, you loved him touching you. It had been SO hard for you to stay away from him during your stay, you truly wondered how you were able to keep from going insane.

“I know you can’t fight it for much longer. I know your heart speeds up when I walk into the room. I know you can’t think when we’re in the same room. I know that you look at me like I’m the only reason you wake up in the morning.” He continued as he started to stroke your cheeks with his thumbs.

“I know you feel the same dizziness I feel whenever you get close to me. I know that me touching you sends lightening through your every vein because that all happens to me whenever I’m with you. I don’t care about anything else anymore. I just want you to be mine already. I NEED you to be mine already.” He said in desperation while biting his lip, still holding your decision torn face between his hands.

He was tired of having to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night to rub one out from sheer thought of knowing you were in the next room behind Song’s back. He NEEDED to actually have you soon or he was worried he’d physically explode. He was about to start his rut and, although he’d NEVER EVER guilt or push you into having sex with him for it, every part of him was begging to touch you to relieve the aches he was beginning to feel. He was hoping if he could calm your anxieties about the situation that you’d want him as much as he’d want you. He already knew he had an affect on your more than you were willing to admit.

A deafening silence started to overtake the both of you. You didn’t want to start anything with him until things were sorted. But God, you wanted the same thing as he did. It made you sooo angry to see him with Song, but you didn’t understand why until now. Now, knowing he was your mate, you realized it was the primal jealousy you held from another woman being that close to him. You had wanted him from the very start, but you always had to hold yourself back out of respect for their pre-existing relationship.

You weren’t really sure where they stood at that moment, but you were starting to not care. Him being so close to you and not actually touching you where you wanted him to made you feel like you were going to catch fire. He smelled like Heaven, and his slight touch made you begin to lose your better judgement. His presence was started to cause a pool of arousal to form in your panties.

He was the first one of you to speak up again, “I know we still have so much to figure out.” Put it out of your head. No matter how much you need him and his plush lips right now.

“And I know that you’re worried about feeling guilt over Song,” Don’t do it. Control yourself!

“But please, if there’s any guilt let it be all on me.” You’re gonna regret it, no matter how phenomenal he smelt. You’re stronger than this. RESIST.

“A- All I Ask is that you at least give us a chance before-” Oh Fuck it, you thought before you quickly interrupted him with a passionate kiss, stopping him from speaking any further.

He was clearly dumbfounded by your sudden actions that had contradicted your previous statements. Even so, he reciprocated immediately anyways, kissing you so roughly that your teeth clashed together. Everything that followed happened in a blur.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it upward. He caught your hint quite fast and all but tore his shirt off, barely even breaking the kiss in the process.

You then locked your hands behind his neck and jerked him as close to you as you possibly could, raising yourself to your knees in the process. He growled lowly before he ripped your shirt from your body, leaving you in just your shorts and bra.

He put his hands on your hips and pushed you down on the bed. He threw his body to hover over yours and feverishly reattached your lips. Your tongues started fighting for dominance, though he inevitably won the battle.

Your wrapped your right leg around him and attempted to use it as leverage to grind against his pelvis, needing some sort of friction to satisfy the growing hunger between your legs. He groaned into the kiss before he pulled himself back.

He gave you a dirty smirk before he grabbed your leg and used it to push you up the bed slightly, giving him better access to your shorts. He slid them and your panties off in one go before he lowered himself down to your heat.

You soon felt his lips attach themselves to your clit, he drew in one harsh suck that drove you crazy. Your hands found their way to his hair and you tugged at the locks, letting out a high pitched whine due to his action. He repeated it a few more times, just to be an tease. He liked watching you squirm because of something he had done. It made him feel powerful, and you looked fucking gorgeous while doing it.

After he was done with his little game, he had his tongue run up and down your slit before he thrust two fingers into your tight entrance, knowing he had to stretch you so he could have you the way he really wanted to. This caused you to take in a breath of air and gasp loudly. It was music to his ears. He didn’t even mind the death grip you had on his hair, it just egged him to keep going.

He started to scissor his fingers before he added a third into you. It was getting harder and harder for you to control your volume, if the others could hear, they’d be deaf by morning. He was making you feel so good, your legs had started shaking. Before you knew it, they locked around his head and your vision went white.

As you came back down to Earth, you started to become sensitive from the orgasm you had just had. Wonwoo was still licking and sucking at your bundle of nerves, the feeling hurting so bad but so good. You let him continue his actions for a bit longer, jerking every now and then from your vulnerability.

Eventually. the overstimulation got the best of you and you started to push away from him, earning a smirk and small chuckle from him. He wiped his mouth off before he stood up and brought his wet fingers to his lips, cleaning your release from them.

Watching you come undone so easily beneath him had his cock begging to be released from it’s restraints. So he quickly rid himself of his jeans and boxers he was wearing. You had propped yourself up on your elbows and licked your lips when you saw his member bounce back to his abs as it was freed. God, he was huge. You absolutely could not wait to have him inside you.

You motioned for him to come back to you, which he did gladly, crawling his way back up the bed. You grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and crashed your lips back to his again, tasting what remained of your juices on his tongue. The kiss continued as he slowly lowered you to lay back down on your back.

He moved his mouth down to your neck and began to leave small love bites, earning little mewls from you. He had used his left hand to steady himself and used his other to unhook your bra, getting a full view of your chest. He trailed his bites down to the mounds of your breasts before he took one of your nipples in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the bud, flicking the other nipple with his fingers so it wouldn’t be left out.

He unlatched his mouth from your breast with a small ‘pop’ sounds and started kissing you again, grabbing his member in one hand and smearing the beads of precum that had gathered at his slit down his shaft. He began rubbing his tip up and down your opening, partly to tease you and partly to give you time to back out if you wanted. He halted the kiss, earning a small whine from you which caused a proud smile to appear on his face.

“Are you sure about this (Y/N)? We can stop if you want to” he said as he pushed some stray hairs behind your hair with the hand that wasn’t holding his dick.

“Yes I’m sure. Now PLEASE just get inside me before I scream” you joked, sort of anyways, placing a peck on his nose. You thought it was sweet how much he cared about your comfort, but you serious just needed him to plow you like a corn field.

He positioned his tip at your entrance before he stopped one last time to look at you asking for approval, to which you nodding your head gently. You grabbed his biceps, readying yourself for the pain that was about to come.

Wonwoo thought it would be best to get the pain part over with as quickly as possible. So he lifted your chin and kissed you to distract you from your nerves and relax you before he pushed himself fully inside you all in one go.

“Oh fuck!” you all but screamed out, gripping his arms tighter, your nails no doubt having left marks on his soft skin

“Shit.” Wonwoo says through gritted teeth as he tried to control himself.

He wanted to start fucking you into next week already, but he didn’t want to move before you were ready. So he held still, using every bit of strength he had to hold himself back.

A small tear slipped down the side of your cheek as a reaction from the sudden feeling of being so full. He wiped it away with his thumb and kissed your lips.

“I’m sorry princess. Do you want to stop?” He asked eyes full of concern and worry. You gave him a short kiss back.

“No. I’m okay now. Please keep going. I really need you to keep going”

And, ever the eager people pleaser he was, he started to pull out almost completely before he pushed back in to you with a groan.

“Fuck. You’re so fucking tight. I dont know how much you’ll be able to take baby” he half joked to you. He nibbled on the sweet spot under your ear and continued his previous action again and again, making you see stars.

“I- I can take all of it. I’ll take anything you give me. Just please, go fast. I- I need you to go faster.” You whimpered out, attempting to meet his thrusts with your hips.

Your words lit a fire in him he couldn’t explain. The thought of you asking him to give you all he had sent an unexplained excitement through his veins. He didn’t know what it was about them that made it happen. But one thing was for sure, he was gonna give you everything he possibly could and he was gonna make sure you took all of it like a good girl.

He quickly sped up his thrusts to an almost inhumane pace, watching every pretty face you made in the process. You started chanting for him to ‘please go deeper.’ And who was he to deny you something when you were being so polite?

So he grabbed one of your legs that you had wrapped around him and pulled it up to rest on his shoulder.

“Oh God right there! Fuck please don’t stop!” You yelled out, dragging your nails down his back leaving bright red lines, some of which must’ve broken skin.

He smiled to himself as your eyes screwed shut at the pleasure he was giving you, small pleas and thank yous leaving your lips in rhythm with his thrusts.

He lowered his eyes to watch himself disappear into you as he pounded you harder and harder. You had never had sex before today and yet, here you were, taking him like a good little cockslut. Fuck. You were incredible.

“You’re doing so good baby. You look so good on my cock” he groaned out, laying his forehead on your shoulder.

“Come on princess, let everyone know how good I’m making you feel. Let everyone know who owns this pretty little cunt.” He cooed at you when he realized you had started to bite his shoulder in an effort to muffle your noises.

You whine in response, knowing normally you wouldn’t have wanted people to know about something so private, but also starting to lose focus on your priorities as his cock started brushing up against that special spot inside you.

“Oh Fuck Wonwoo! Right there! Fuck do that again!” You moaned out, begging him to repeat what he had just done. He smiled to you smuggly.

“Oh you mean right…” he teased as he fixed his position to touch your sweet spot again before you started to scream out in euphoria, “there?”

“Yes yes yes! Fuck yes! Don’t stop! God please don’t ever stop!” You choked out, starting to lose yourself to the immense pleasure he was giving you.

“Well I’m gonna have to in a minute baby. I’m almost there and I’ll need to pull out” he reminded you while tilting his head backward to try and hold his orgasm off just a little bit longer to get you there again.

“Fuck I- I don’t care! Cum inside me then! Just please don’t stop!” You wail, holding onto Wonwoo for dear life at this point.

Wonwoo’s eyes shot wide open at your words, “Princess I could get you pregnant if I do that. You don’t want that” he spoke while begging any fucking god listening to give him the strength to say no to your request.

“Ye- Yes I do. Fuck please cum in me Wonwoo! Please! I want you to fill me up! I want everyone to know I’m yours!” You sobbed, getting so close to your high tears were now freely falling down your face.

Wonwoo’s eyes went bright red. Fuck. You were gonna be the death of him. “Is that what you want baby? For me to fill you up? To get you nice and pregnant so everyone can see your belly and know you’re mine? So everyone’ll know you’re my little cumslut?” He responded, pounding into you harder and harder as he neared his high.

“Yes please! Fuck please! I want your baby! I want you to fill me up! I wanna be your dirty little cum slut! Make me yours” You screamed as his words sent you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Wonwoo couldn’t help it. You asked him to get you pregnant and every instinct in him told him to do it, he was starting his rut. To hell with the consequences. If anything happened, he’d take care of you and everything would be fine. You were his mate after all. He’d breed you some day anyways, why not today?

His fangs elongated as he drew closer to his own orgasm. He sunk them into the apex between your neck and shoulder, the feeling pushing you over the edge. The pleasure mixed with the pain drove you to a release so amazing, you never even thought it possible. And it sent him to his as well. The last thing you remember was feeling his hot cum jet against your walls right as the darkness took over you.

-

“Well looks like sleeping beauty finally woke up” Wonwoo stated as he kissed your nose. You noticed he didn’t have his shirt on, you did. You didn’t remember putting it on…

“What- what happened…?” You groaned out, still pretty groggy from the activities of the previous night.

“We fucked. You passed out after. You must’ve either been super exhausted or super fucked up from cumming really hard.” He said matter of factly while he rubbed your back.

“I think it was the second one” You pieced together as you tried to sit up, soon realizing that your muscles didn’t want to work.

“Considering you were so out of it you were begging me to knock you up, I’d go with number two too” he joked while massaging your sore thigh.

“I- I did that?” You questioned, shocked that you had gotten that fucked up.

“Well… yeah. Don’t worry. We can get you the day after pill when we go to the market today. Of course… you’ll have to cover this…” he responded while moving your hair behind yout shoulder, pointing out the bite he had left on you.

“You marked me??” Your eyes widened at the thought, had you SERIOUSLY been SO fucked out that you didn’t even remember him biting you? You seriously were so lost in cumming that you didn’t realize he marked you as his?

“Yeah I guess I did…” Wonwoo whispered as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sorry. I hardly even remember doing it. I remember you saying you wanted me to cum inside of you. I remember how that made me have this sudden primal urge to make you mine, then everything went blurry.”

“It- It’s okay. I can’t really be mad if I was literally asking you to… well you know. We both ended up getting pretty fucked out huh?” You joked, a small smile forming as you spoke.

“Yeah. Pretty fucked out is a bit of an understatement. But still, I’m sorry for the unintentional marking and mating. I can’t really do anything about the marking… but we can at least help the mating thing by getting you that weird pill” he shrugged out, already getting ready to put his jeans back on.

“Wait!” You stopped him by grabbing his arm, surprising both him and yourself with the action. He looked back at you with confusion plastered all over his face.

“What? Isn’t taking it as early as possible better?” He questioned, your hand still holding his arm.

“Yeah… but I don’t want to get out of bed. I’m kinda sore. So do we… absolutely have to get it…?” You wondered aloud, trying your best to convey to him what you were trying to say.

“I- uh if you don’t want to get pregnant… kinda?” He stuttered out, now grabbing your petite hand in his large one and placing a little kiss to the center of it’s palm.

“What if- what if I don’t mind it? Getting pregnant I mean. Do we have to go get it…? Unless you want me to take it…?” You trailed on. His eyes widened and his heart rate sped up. Were you saying what he thought you were saying?

“Are you saying- are you saying that you’d actually be okay if I just got you pregnant?” He gulped, hand still encasing yours.

“Well… yeah. Kind of? I mean- we’re already mates right? We already know we’ll be together till the day we die. So I don’t see why it matters if we have a kid now or twenty years from now” you explained cautiously, hoping you didn’t just freak the poor wolf out. He looked back at you, his face completely unreadable.

“If- if you’re okay with it then- Yeah that’s- that’s fine. We don’t have to go get it if you don’t want. We can just stay here and uh… talk?” He let out very questionably, still not completely sure what to say. After everything you had said to him about… well- about everything, he had NEVER expected those words to come out of your mouth.

“Are you… mad? Because we can go get the pill if you-” you started, worried that you had in fact, upset him with your request.

“No- no! I’m not mad. Just… kind of shocked is all. I didn’t think that you’d… be okay with something like that so soon” he defended, holding his hands up in the air as a way to stop you from talking any further.

“Oh. Yeah well… me either really. But I’m not… absolutely hating the idea, ya know? I mean I’m not saying ‘I want a baby right this second so let’s keep going till I get pregnant’ or anything. But I just mean- if it happens, it happens. Why try to fight it if we’re supposed to be together anyways? Unless you hate the idea then I-” You say, slightly losing steam at the end of your sentence, while looking down and biting your lip.

“Hey” Wonwoo said while lifting your chin with his hand, “I dont hate the idea either. I know what you’re saying and… I feel the same way about it” he admitted with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Really? You’re not mad or gonna like freak out?” You quizzed him, still very worried that he was a mess inside and was just hiding it fo your sake.

“Really. I’m not mad and I’m not gonna freak. What you’re saying, it makes sense. I already know I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Hell, I’ve already marked and mated you, so why try and stop it if we’d both be okay with it.” He added taking your hand and kissing it once more, this time with love and adoration in his eyes rather than concern.

“Okay. Good. Now that that’s settled… can we lay back down now before you start your mating season? I’m in a bit of pain and kind of need to get my strength back before I have to deal with you for a whole week” you declared, earning a small laugh from Wonwoo.

“Yeah baby. We can lay back down. Come on” he chuckled out as he quickly moved under the sheets to lay beside you.

“Better?” He asked, playing with your hair as you laid on his chest.

“Better.” You answered before you snuggled further into him.

You knew that you trusted Wonwoo and that you loved and cared for him more than you did yourself. You may not have planned how today went, but you sure as hell weren’t complaining. No matter what hardships decided to come your way…

Another Author’s Note: Ahhh. This was a fun chapter. Wonwoo’s next chapter is where it’ll really start to hit home. I’m not that good at writing smut but honestly, something about this boy makes me always wanna just smash my lips to his and fuck him. Don’t know why. Don’t know if I’m the only one. Either way, I promised smut for his chapter and I delivered as best as I could.

(Updated 9/6)

[rotworld]

A Jay Post

it’s easy to think you’ve got him all figured out. he’s a troublemaker. he’s a party animal. he’s got no scruples and no common sense. most likely to do something extremely stupid and get in trouble, equally likely to charm his way out of it. that’s all true, but that’s not all there is. and sure, people are complicated and that’s somebody’s son underneath it all, but don’t get all sentimental now. danger doesn’t always announce itself. there’s something conniving in his smile. it’s not always the quiet ones. sometimes it’s the ones so loud you think they must have nothing to hide.

jay is part of the we pariahs group and the easiest to underestimate. a social butterfly and night owl, it’s rare to see him sit still for long. he has a reputation for being friendly, flirty and allergic to commitment. despite being open and talkative, it’s hard to know what he’s really thinking. easy to talk to and spend time with, he’s especially talented at getting you to “go with the flow” and follow his lead, a talent he often misuses to get you where he wants you. here are some things you’ve learned about jay:

he came to the united states from bosnia when he was fairly young. his real name is dženan, but his grade school classmates couldn’t properly spell or pronounce it, so they called him jay instead.

you’re pretty sure he makes money doing something questionable. he used to do deliveries for a pizza place but was fired after an unspecified incident. but if you ask, he pretends that’s still his job.

he and his single mom have the healthiest, most functional family relationship in the whole group. they’re very close and he always makes sure he’s home during holidays to spend time with her.

he has his own place, but between couch surfing, extended one night stands and visiting his mom, he’s rarely there.

jay first appeared alongside rex and levine in sore losers, a piece set in the future that launched the whole continuity. in terms of personality, compared to the others, he’s probably changed the least since then. in sore loser:

when you announced your intentions to leave town, and therefore the group, jay started stealing any mail you got related to finding new jobs or housing. you blamed rex for it and still have no idea it was jay all along.

he was the last one to move on, emotionally and physically, after you left. even after rex gave up, jay was sure you would change your mind and come back, and everything would go back to normal. you were the first breakup he ever cried over.

jay has started his own successful business and secured a high-paying white collar job. despite this, he’s terrible with money and still lives a fairly dangerous, fast-paced life.

the inhuman au features all of the same characters but with a supernatural twist. jay’s concept is fairly simple, but his personality is a bit different:

jay is inspired by the snijet, a creature believed to be the child of a human woman and a dragon. jay’s father was a snijet, making jay himself only a quarter dragon. as a result, he can’t turn into a dragon, but still has many draconic features such as scales and a tail.

jay grew up around humans who bullied him mercilessly. as a result, he’s wary of people and self-conscious of his natural features. he’s shy and withdrawn until you get to know him.

he has very poor control over manifesting his natural features and “slips” when he’s startled, angry, upset, or experiences any strong emotion.

he gets cold extremely easily and wears a coat or jacket no matter the weather.

and finally, jay’s playlist. it’s called “sevdah.” at times it has powerful fuckboy energy and i sincerely apologize for that.

->the city is at war - cobra starship

->emperor’s new clothes - panic! at the disco

->get sharp - the limousines

->pray - night club

->temptation - cradle of filth

->death valley - fall out boy

->this town, your grave - innerpartysystem

->phantoms - edo maajka

->6 underground - sneaker pimps

->la bomba - lord of the lost

->arsonist’s lullaby - hozier

[rubykgrant]

I’m gonna write out little high-lights of my RVB Monster AU for Halloween reasons~ Things happen in a mostly normal-world modern setting, but obviously with monsters/fantasy creatures and such. Things plot-related happen almost the same way, but some stuff is earlier/later, shuffled around to work for my own purposes (so some of the key moments still happen, but occasionally in a different order). Here is the beginning, which as always, starts with two morons asking a big question-

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever wonder why we’re here?”

“Well, that’s one of life’s great mysteries, isn’t it?”

The two men were standing on the rooftop of an old warehouse. The building had gone through several owners, being used as a storage facility, a garage for fixing up cars and various vehicles, a shipping business, a veterinary clinic for large animals and livestock, a recycling center… and possibly some kind of drug lab at one point. It was none of these now, but if a stranger saw the inside, they would assume the new owner was a combination a mechanic/pet doctor, using the left-behind equipment (and considering how shady everything appeared, a stranger would also probably assume this was a front for yet another drug lab). It was still none of these things. In truth, it was much stranger.

One man stood slouching with the late-afternoon sun on his back. The other was leaning against a vent that came out of the roof, in the shadows. He had a red long-sleeved button-up shirt on (despite the hot temperature), and black jeans. His shirt was neatly tucked-in, and his matching red hair was trimmed short in what was decidedly a “going to a job interview” style. His eyes were two different colors. Once, they had both been a soft brown, but now one was glass, the color of the iris some kind of magenta… or maroon. The other eye (the one that was still organic) was a golden-yellow. He looked like somebody who had gone through a growth-spurt some years back, and still hadn’t settled into himself; too lanky and gawky for his own good.

His companion in the sun was a little shorter, and considerably larger, but completely at ease with his shape and his weight. His skin was mostly a warm copper brown… but he had several patches of mis-matched skin tones on his left side; around his eye, his chest, his arm, his leg. Each area also showed several scars, signifying that it was the result of surgery and skin-grafts. His dark brown hair was parted in the center, falling down around his shoulders in long curls, and stubble on his chin. His eyes were so dark, they almost looked black. He wore an old faded baseball shirt (once white with orange on the collar and short sleeves, now a dingy-peachy color), and loose gray jeans that were worn-out at the knees. They were quite the odd pair, opposites in many ways that were obvious (and more that were evident in their interactions), yet it was clear they were used to each other’s company.

“Why ARE we here?” the man in the sun continued, answering the question from his friend in the shadows. “I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or is there really a god watching everything? You know, with a plan for us and stuff. I don't know man, but it keeps me up at night…”

“WHAT?” the other man stood up a little straighter, but remained behind the vent. “I meant why are we out HERE, in broad daylight? Sarge KNOWS it’ll burn me, and there’s not even anything for us to do! The only reason he sends us out to keep watch is because there’s that building over there he thinks is haunted, but we can’t see anything from here… and if there WAS anything going on over there, like ghosts or whatever, they could definitely see US! We don’t have any cover on the roof, but whoever might be over THERE is hidden behind the windows!”

“Oh… uh, yeah…”

“What was all that stuff about god?”

“Nothing,”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,”

They both decided to just skip it, and move on.

“But seriously, why ARE we out here, and why does Sarge care about that building so much?” the taller man waved his arm, gesturing to the building in question.

“I guess he wants to try catching ghosts next, or something?” the shorter man shrugged.

“Then we should just GO OVER THERE, right?”

“Pfff… nah, are you kidding? Just standing around, looking at a building? This is the easiest job I ever had,” he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Grif, you- OK, first of all! This isn’t a JOB, we aren’t getting paid! Second, you don’t even remember most of your life before a few months ago, you have no basis of comparison!”

“Fair point, but come on Simmons… seriously? What job could I have possibly had that would be easier than this?”

From his spot in the shadows, Simmons looked away for a moment, thinking.

“Hmm… well, I remember reading about people being paid to take part in sleep studies. You just nap and keep a dream journal, or whatever…”

“Oh man, are you kidding!? I WISH that was my life!” Grif kicked at an old rusty can, causing it to fall off the roof. “Instead, here I am, stuck in this stupid building, in this stupid town, in this stupid canyon-”

“Where we have to look at a potentially haunted building, at random intervals, day and night…” Simmons added.

“All because Scruffy the Vampire Slayer is paranoid!”

Despite himself, this caused Simmons to snort laughter. Grif grinned, pleased that his pun was appreciated.

“Even if that building IS haunted… it doesn’t seem like something bad, you know? I never see anybody running out of there screaming bloody murder. If we just ignored it, what would happen? Nothing. It would just be a boring building with boring ghosts, and we’d just be another boring building with boring… whatever we are,” Simmons leaned once more on the vent, glaring up at the sky that was still dangerously bright.

“I think monsters sums us up pretty good,” Griff suggested.

“Right, monsters who don’t do anything. Over there are ghosts who don’t do anything. Whoopty-fucking-doo…”

“You gonna actually SAY that to Sarge? Hmm? Gonna finally stand up to him, use your big-boy voice, and tell the crazy old man you don’t wanna follow orders anymore? Is this beginning of your rebellious phase?” Grif reached over, shoving Simmons lightly on the arm.

“Well… no… but! I’m gonna remind him that me being outside in the day is a bad idea! YOU should get the day shift, and I should get the night shift. It just makes sense,”

“Aww, but Simmons… then we wouldn’t get to spend quality time together, having all these deep and meaningful conversations!” Grif gave him a look of fake-concern, like he was hurt and might start crying.

“Oh, right. I forgot. We’re philosophers discussing the secrets of the universe, life’s great mysteries, right?” Simmons smirked.

“Exactly… like, if you could only taste one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? No matter what you ate, it has the same flavor?” Grif asked.

“That’s a stupid question for a vampire, man. Everything I eat DOES have the same flavor now. It all tastes like blood, because guess what? I have to drink blood. Because I’m a VAMPIRE,” Simmons shook his head.

“No, but I mean, if you could magically taste something ELSE, whether you were drinking blood or eating a salad, or whatever, what would you pick?” Grif pressed on. “I’d want everything to taste like chocolate. Milk chocolate. That’s my favorite, and I’d never get sick of it…”

“Jeez… it would’ve been impossible to get you to chill out if you tasted chocolate every time you tried to eat a person!” Simmons replied, remembering how it had been with Grif when they first found him.

“Yeah, I don’t know what those other zombies were on about… brains and human flesh is GROSS. Chocolate, though? MMM, I could do the zombie-shuffle-walk for days to get some good chocolate,”

“Uh-huh, and  that’s EXACTLY how we caught you!” Simmons almost reached out to return the arm-punch, but managed to hesitate and stop in time… Grif was still in direct sunlight, and Simmons would get scorched if he left his little patch of shadow. Grif seemed to realize this, in that quiet and easy way that caused both of them to somehow pick-up each other’s habits. Grif leaned over to nudge Simmons with his shoulder, and they both laughed together.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Mystery Twins: Ghost

A new AU inspired by Mystery Skulls…

AO3 link

ch.2

~~~~~~~~~~

A catchy song played on the radio, making the young pair of twins in the back bob their heads and jump in their seats to the music. Ford smiled, looking back with his near-view mirror, and his smile stayed even when he had to focus back on the road. His hands and body weren’t used to driving the red Diablo, but he managed it okay, mostly because he was with his family.

Driving through the backwood-roads in the dark forest, the car was operating fine, but then the radio was glitching and the car was sputtering to a stop. The eight-year-olds in the back braced themselves as they slowed down, Ford listening carefully for an indication as to what was wrong with the Stanmobile.

“Grunkle Ford, what’s wrong?” Dipper asked, the boy who often felt like a ghost.

“I’m not sure.” Said the man who knew the most. “It sounds like the battery…”

“Maybe it has something to do with that.” Mabel suggested, looking outside and pointing to a structure they were coming up on.

The car came to a stop in front of a very large, rich-looking, antique cabin. With many levels and even a tower, this grand old-styled building seemed to be beating with life, like a giant wooden heart, and a faint reddish glow came from within. The Diablo refused to move any further, so Ford and the kids got out. The aged scientist popped the hood with Dipper by his side and they both saw the red bolts of lightning sparking around the battery and engine, freezing everything.

“Looks like somebody doesn’t want us to leave.” Ford theorized and looked up at the large house, but he gasped with horror seeing his little niece skip to the door. “Mabel!” He hissed.

Dipper turned and ran after his sister, holding his lucky pinetree hat down to keep it from blowing off his Pines’ fluffy brown hair. “Mabel, wait for me!”

The little girl stood on tippy-toes in her black flats and white socks and rang the doorbell. It sang a surprisingly joyful tune, and then the door opened. The children entered and the door remained open. Ford ran inside after his children; he knew they were more than capable of taking care of themselves, but given recent circumstances, he’d rather not take the risk.

The second Ford stepped inside the dwelling, however, the door closed by itself. The guardian wrapped an arm around each child, with Dipper on his left and Mabel on his right, and they were entertained by a small performance of bright red fire dancing in the suffocating darkness, until the flames landed on tall candles by the wall, and everything was highlighted with reds, oranges, and yellows.

Mabel’s eyes dazzled with excitement, as well as Dipper’s while he did sweat a bit on the forehead, and Ford was even more on guard. Three small goat-resembling blobs of red soul appeared from the floor and swarmed the small family. Mabel reached to pet one, but Dipper grabbed her hand and ran, and Ford ran after them.

The red fire brought life to the painting of Natives and lumberjacks. While the live humans ran down the hallways of the large wooden manor, many different ghosts flew around the air; little child-like spirits were being chased by punk ghosts, keys and keyhole were floating aimlessly, a soul-sucker landed on Ford’s shoulder, but he flicked it away like it was an annoying bug.

“This place is amazing!” Dipper cheered. “Look how many categories, Grunkle Ford!”

“Yes, it is impressive,” Ford huffed, half excited, half worried for the children’s safety. “But let’s hope we don’t meet a Level- AAAAAAAHH!!!” A trap door suddenly appeared beneath him and the old scientist fell, the hole quickly covered before the kids could see what had happened.

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, shrugged, and ran down the hall to the shining room ahead of them.

Ford fell harshly on a cold, concrete floor and rubbed the base of his back; he would be feeling that later. He looked around. He was in some kind of cellar, a room in the basement for storage, possibly food in the olden days. Ford looked ahead, and highlighted with glowing red energy, was a casket with a square skull on the door. As Ford stood and braced himself, the door opened to find a smartly dressed skeleton inside.

A skull missing it’s bottom jaw glared at the old man, who was far too used to it to be too shaken, but he was on edge and ready to fight or flight; whichever would ensure he would make it out of the cellar alive. The skeleton had sharp cheekbones and jagged cracks. His skull levitated an inch above the collar of his suit, the lines sharp and smart, the lines and the tie coated in red, though the suit was black. His ribs were outside his jacket and his hands were an odd bland of glove and bone. But what was most peculiar was not the fact that a fancy-dressed skeleton was alive and glaring daggers at the meat-puppet before him. No, what conjured Ford’s curiosity was the golden heart beating on the skeleton’s right chest, like a badge of honor.

The ghost stepped out of the coffin, his heeled shoes clicking on the concrete floor, and he stopped right in front of Ford and pointed harshly at him. Ford glared back, hand in his trenchcoat, ready to shoot and by himself some time, but there was no guarantee if it would even have time for an attack.

It didn’t matter. Suddenly the pupil-less eyes of the skeleton were lit up with red pupils, red fire encased more candles, and with an upward tilt of the skulls, a red block of fire appeared on his head. Ford, as quick as light, whipped out his special ray gun, shot, and ran for the exit. The ghost dodged the bolt of cold blue light with a lazy motion of his head, and then started to fly after his target.

Meanwhile, Dipper and Mabel were helping themselves to big towers of warm pancakes in the kitchen, about to dig in when they heard the commotion. They poked their heads out of the kitchen and gasped to find their uncle cornered by a big ghost, definitely a Level 10, his back to the wall and his gun pointed at the angry spirit, but the kids knew they could help.

Just before the ghost could touch Ford, the pair of kids stood in front of their grunkle, both flinching and ready for the impact, their arms outstretched to try to shield their guardian, but they opened their eyes cautiously when no attack came.

The ghost had stopped, standing a few feet in front of the tiny family. His red eyes were on the children, and appeared to be… not angry. Almost sad. Mabel took a step forward. Maybe she could help Mr. Ghost feel better so he could go back to sleep. Maybe something hurt. She could kiss it better.

Dipper was right by Mabel’s side, a hand on his chin, studying the ghost curiously, his brown eyes sparkling with wonder. Mabel grinned at the ghost and waved. “Hi, I’m Mabel!”

Instantly, the ghost seemed to smile. Kind eyes and a general aura that swore no harm. The young pair of twins noticed the golden heart floating towards them. Dipper’s mouth was open slightly, while Mabel held her hands patiently for it, waiting for the heart to land on her, rather than harshly grab it and risk frightening the kind soul.

But then Ford scooped up the kids in his arms and ran for the door, leaving the kids to look back at the skeleton and for the skeleton to reach out longingly, only for the golden heart to fall to the floor and crack, now a cold, lonely, icy blue.

At once, the ghost was engulfed in rage and fire, his arms trembling with anger, and he had his red fire swallow the entire hall, with Ford jumping out, through the door, at the last second, with his kids in his arms. He piled them into the red Diablo and thankfully the ghost was too distracted to have the car deactivate again, and they sped away into the woods.

Inside the large cabin, the skeleton watched them go through a window. He picked up the cracked blue heart, tapping it so the locket opened. Inside, a picture of Stan holding his children in his arms, smiling and laughing and having a good time, haunted him. The broken spirit could only shed a single tear as he growled to himself and floated out of the manor, causing it to fade back into its tiny, pitiful, abandoned cabin once more.

[bleeding-seraphic]

yes my au does have leshycat

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

The 80s au prompt! Maybe a new transfer student tries to bully Jaskier, thinking he's the bottom of the social ladder? And the football team sets them straight? Or maybe they try to flirt with one of the boys despite being warned away? I just love this verse so damn much! ♥️

(I do love me a jealous Geralt tbh)

tw: panic attack, soft geralt, protective geralt, itty bitty anxiety committee jaskier, Letterman’s jacket

---

Geralt glanced around the cafeteria but Jaskier was nowhere to be seen. Kevin tapped his shoulder and set his tray down at their usual table, “Your boyfriend got volunteered to show some new kid around. I’m sure he’s just a few minutes late.”

“Oh.”

As if on cue, a bright laugh could be heard approaching from the distance. Jaskier and a slightly taller boy were walking shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing and talking as they made their way towards the gathering football team. As they approached Geralt heard Jaskier say, “The one with the long white hair is my boyfriend.”

The stranger looked Geralt up and down out of the corner of his eye. “Would you mind if I sat with you guys today while I catch my bearings?”

“I’m sure that would be fine.”

They finally reached the table. Jaskier plopped himself into his reserved seat at the quarterback’s side and gestured to an empty chair nearby. “Guys, this is Max. Max, this is Geralt, Kevin, Dave, Mark, Steven, Reggie, and Charlie.”

“Nice to meet you all,” the new kid waved. “I’m Max. Juli-uh..Jaskier has been showing me around.”

“You’ll get used to the nickname,” Jaskier smiled pleasantly. “Max is from Aedirn.”

“Welcome to Kaedwen,” Geralt offered. “Glad you could join us!”

“Glad to be here!” Max replied. A pair of golden eyes narrowed slightly in his direction. Geralt didn’t like the way Max seemed to lean towards Jaskier every time the brunette spoke, or how he looked to Jaskier for approval when he made teasing remarks. He definitely didn’t like the way Max’s hand rested on Jaskier’s arm or shoulder whenever he agreed with him. 

Geralt was...jealous.

---

“If that Max kid doesn’t stop touching Jaskier every time they hang out together, Geralt might just pop a blood vessel,” Kevin laughed, adjusting the weights on his machine. He, Dave, and Mark were all working one end of the weight room while Geralt was on the other, bench pressing nearly fifteen pounds more than his boyfriend’s body weight.

“Do you want to warn the little bastard or should I?” Mark asked.

“I got it,” Kevin waved him off. “I’ll save his ass from getting kicked.”

---

Kevin didn’t have time to warn him, unfortunately, because Max was an entire fucking fool. 

Jaskier had been waiting outside the locker room for Geralt and his teammates to finishing showering up after their workout when Max appeared from seemingly nowhere. The new kid claimed that he’d gotten lost and quickly resumed their conversation from lunch, touching their shoulders together insistently as he tried to convince Jaskier to flirt back. “So you said you like Duran Duran earlier, right? I have their latest record if you wanna come over some time and listen. My system is amazing; I saved up all summer to get new stereo speakers.”

“That’s cool but-”

“You’ll dig it, I promise. We can even smoke a joint or two if you’re into the weed scene; my dad is totally cool with that kind of shit.”

“I appreciate it, Max, and I’d love to hang out sometime but-”

“You’re just...” Max leaned down towards Jaskier. The smaller sophomore was boxed in against the wall, his heart picking up speed in his chest as he began to panic. His next set of refusals got stuck in his throat and he prayed for his boyfriend to come to his rescue. “You’re really just too cute for your own good, Julian.”

“Did you miss the part at lunch where he said I was his boyfriend?” Geralt asked. He’d exited the locker room just in time to see the panic start to spread across Jaskier’s face. The redness creeping up from his boyfriend’s collar to stain his cheeks wasn’t from flattery; Jaskier was legitimately frightened of the the other, larger sophomore. 

Jaskier fell gratefully against Geralt’s side and let the quarterback wrap a large, white-leather Letterman’s jacket around his shoulders possessively. “Better, babe?”

Jaskier buried his nose in the collar and breathed deeply, willing his heartbeat to slow back to normal. Geralt turned to face him. He ran a comforting hand through Jaskier’s soft, brunette hair and cupped his face, rubbing his thumb across the younger boy’s blood-warm cheekbone.”Are you going to be okay? Do you need a minute to breathe?”

Jaskier nodded and Max’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong with him?”

“You gave him a panic attack, you useless fuck,” Dave explained from behind him. Max whirled around. The rest of the Kaedwen Academy Wolves were standing in a group, arms crossed over their chests, their expressions a matching set of grim disappointment. “If Jaskier had hyperventilated and passed out, would you have carried him off to the back of your shitty car?”

“I-uh-I-”

“You’d better get going,” Geralt urged. “Wolves are very territorial creatures.”

“I’m sorry, guys, really. I didn’t mean-”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant,” Geralt growled. Jaskier ducked his head beneath Gearlt’s chin and let the older boy’s hands run up and down his back. The strokes were firm, soothing, and endlessly tender. He felt better already. “What matters is that you scared my boyfriend.”

Max fucked up again, of course. “And the whole football team would get suspended in order to protect this one twink?”

Mark cracked his knuckles automatically. Nobody talked shit about Jaskier like that. Not unless they wanted to enter a world of pain; but Geralt shook his head. “This one isn’t worth it, guys. We have a big game this weekend and I need all of you present on the field.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“But know this,” the white-haired giant turned to Max. His honey-gold eyes blazed with a fury that not even Geralt’s teammates had ever seen before. Dave, one of his closest friends in all the world, took a nervous step back on instinct. Geralt’s voice was low and dangerous as he continued, “If you ever so much as breathe on my boyfriend without his express verbal consent again, you will never know peace. You should know that I will get you back somehow. You won’t know when and you won’t know how, but you’ll get what’s coming to you if you. So I’d better not hear your name come out of his mouth again unless it’s to tell me that you were being a perfect gentleman. Understood?”

Max nodded and disappeared in a flash.

---

“Thanks for helping me out with that creep today,” Jaskier sighed, snuggling closer into Geralt’s side. They were tucked into Jaskier’s bed, with the sophomore’s hand splayed across his boyfriend’s abdomen. Geralt’s hair was haloed across the pillowcase in a spray of silver and Jaskier thought he looked angelic. “You’re beautiful, you know that? You’re my white knight.”

“Does that make you the princess?”

“You know what, I was wrong. You’re actually the dragon. This is the tower and you are the dragon.” Jaskier threw the back of his hand up against his forehead and whispered dramatically, “Oh save me! Somebody save me!”

Geralt pressed several quick kisses against his boyfriend’s temple and cheek, chuckling. “Goober.”

“Mhm. Your Goober.”

“That’s right,” Geralt nodded, tightening his arms around the smaller boy. “Mine.”

[comeon-eileen]

it’s not wip wednesday, but I need to somebody other than me to know that this fic exists/harass me to finish

So, I present a snippet of sugar d*ddy au

There’s a the soft whoosh of hair brushing over shoulders as necks turn. Max has never felt more uncomfortable as he does at this very moment, with mouths wet and drooped open. Charles is gone, in a blink and flash, off charming the literal pants off of a man.

“Don’t look hunted, Max,” Lewis whispers in his ear, a cleansing breath of jasmine washing over him. “We don’t make it easy for them to tear us apart.”

Max starts by releasing the tension in his neck and then relaxing the slightest bit, forcing his body to be inviting and warm, desperately reaching for the last dredges of summer heat as a comfort. “Okay.”

“Remember that we demand admiration. They’re paying for it,” Lewis says before floating off to find his target for the night.

Max takes as deep of a breath as he can manage and walks into the crowd. He shouldn’t be nervous. He knows that he looks good, Lewis made sure of that, but.

But nothing, he shouldn’t be nervous.

Still, Max has to laugh at himself; he wasn’t meant to be here like this. He’s in Monaco and so close to the race track that he can smell the asphalt. Biting and chemical and burning the inside of his nostrils. But he’s plucked and primped within every inch of him. He’s cold in the half-buttoned white collared shirt, open just enough that if he leans forward, his nipples are on display. He’s perfect, like a centerpiece.

Still and stupid like a centerpiece, too.

Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, he walks over to the railing to have a full view of the party. He tries to look into the yellow din of people laughing and drinking, but he finds himself staring off the side of the yacht instead. There’s a gray curve in the distance that he can see under the glow of the moon, and if he tells himself a nice lie, he can say that the curve is the asphalt of the racetrack. Just a moment longer, he tells himself, one more minute and then I’ll turn around and I’ll do my job.

“Hello?” Or his job can find him. Max stiffens, turning around to see a grin, white teeth shining even in the low light.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to see if you were thirsty,” he says, eyes twinkling at him. “But I see that you have a glass of champagne, so I guess I’ll have to drink both then,” waving the glasses.

Max smiles, practiced and demure. “Your name?”

“Daniel Ricciardo.” Daniel’s grin slants mischievous, “But I think the more important question is what’s your name?”

“Max,” he says, slouching enough so that he can look through his eyelashes.

Daniel downs a glass of champagne, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “No last name?”

“Do you really need it?” Max asks.

“Other than the fact that I want it?” Daniel curves his body towards him, curls dipping over his eyebrows, almost predatory. It makes Max’s belly warm, inviting him to lean into Daniel.

Instead, Max looks into Daniel’s eyes, watching the light catching to turn them golden. “You can’t have everything that you want.”

Daniel looks expensive. Max needed to learn that the first year he left home. Lewis had tested him, running fabric over his fingertips while he was blindfolded and pressing slips of perfumed paper up to his nose. He now knows that the watch on Daniel’s hand is a Rolex. The thin, white collared shirt is Gucci. The tie—vintage Dior.

“Can’t you?” Daniel asks.

Max makes a moue with his lips, “Maybe. If you offer the right price, I suppose.”

“Oh?”

Max moves closer so that he feels the warmth of Daniel’s body. He places a kiss on the edge of Daniel’s jaw, feeling the brush of stubble rough on his lips. It’s going to tint them red.

Daniel’s hands grip his hips, holding him still against the cool railing of the yacht. His leg sneaks in-between Max’s leg. “You wanna do this here?”

Max grinds down while staring at Daniel. “What do you think?”

“I think I got lucky.” One of his hands drifts up to caress Max’s jaw, drawing him closer until their lips meet. Gentle for the first brush. A hello. It doesn’t stay gentle for long. Daniel pulls Max closer, pressing his lips against each other harder, drugging kisses, his tongue darting into Max’s mouth. And Max—Max forgets where he is. Can only focus on the heat, the wet of Daniel’s mouth. The strength of his hands—how Daniel’s beard scratches against his neck when Daniel starts kissing down the length of his jaw. His own hands betraying him, pulling Daniel closer and closer and closer.

It’s only when Daniel’s hand starts dipping underneath his pants, hot and curious, when he realizes that he’s here to work—a cold dunk of water on his senses. He drags himself away from Daniel, but Daniel follows, head sinking down so that they’re staring at each other—lips centimeters away. His eyes are dark, pupil taking over his irises, looking like he’s seconds away from dragging Max in again. “Max?”

“You’re going to have to pay for more.” Clunky. Lewis would kill him for that, but Max’s mind has been delivered to Daniel’s hands.

“What?”

Max repeats. “You’re going to have to pay for more.” His hands are shaking by his side.

“I’m not—I don’t-“ Daniel stutters.

“Okay.”

And Max starts walking away. No use wasting time on someone who’s never going to be a client.

He’s only a few steps when Daniel calls out. “Wait—“

Max stops. Turns around. He hopes his lips are swollen, red enough for Daniel to imagine what they would look like wrapped around his cock.

“I need somebody to date me,” Daniel blurts, shoving his hands inside his pockets.

“I did not think you would have a problem with that,” Max says, eyes widening when he realizes what he said.

Daniel laughs, big and full, blocking out the rest of the party. “I didn’t一I didn’t expect you to say that.”

I didn’t expect that either.

“Why do you need a date, Daniel?”

“My parents want me to settle down. Get married.” He leans against the railing of the yacht. “I need一time. I can’t一”  

Max hackles rise. “I don’t need charity from you, Daniel. I’m not ashamed of being fucked or fucking someone else for money.”

“It’s not charity.”

Max takes a sip of his champagne. It’s more bitter than he expected, tickling the back of his throat.

Daniel’s cheeks pink. “I—my parents want me settled, but I can make my own decisions.”

Max turns back to stare out into the harbor, anger fizzing in his veins.

“Will you do it?”

“Date you?”

“For a price,” Daniel recovers, grinning and Max feels like he’s pressing his thumb against the edge of a knife. About to slice it open.

Max swallows. “How long do you want?” The lights on the harbor twinkle. It’s pretty.

“How about a year?” Daniel steps up next to him, leaning his forearms against the railing. “Nice and even.”

Max stares at the lights, dangling the champagne glass in his hands above the blue-black water. He idly wonders if he would even see a splash if he dropped it.

“You’re so sure? No trial period?”

Daniel stares at Max. “I think一I don’t think that it’ll be necessary.” It’s strangely odd to see Daniel without the edges of his mouth stretched wide in a grin. Max feels a little bit steadier when he smirks and says, “My parents know my type.”

“Blonde?”

Daniel grins. “And pretty.”

And Max hopes that his foundation’s lasted the night. Hopes that the red blush he can feel on his cheeks isn’t visible to Daniel, blaring even under the cover of night.

[mafia-nct]

GOT7 Mafia AU: Their S/O Getting Insulted

Genre: mafia au!, angst.

Warning: swearing, violence, mentions of blood.

---

Jaebum:

They’ve been in the meeting room for hours, planning their next mission. Everything needed to be executed perfectly and knowing your boyfriend; no one was getting out of that room until they memorised every detail of the plan.

You knocked on the door and opened it.

“I bare gifts!” You said motioning to the bags of snack you carried in your hands.

A small smile appeared on Jaebum’s face. You placed the bags on the table and made your way to your boyfriend.

He hugged you, hiding his face in your neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, “we needed a little break!”

“Welcome Jae!” You whispered back

“Yo boss,” screamed one of the new recruits, “where did you get a bitch like that? These snacks are dope!”

Every head turned to him, the atmosphere in the room dropped and Jaebum let go of you. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and narrowed his eyes at his new recruit.

“I’m sorry, what did you just call my girlfriend?” Barked Jaebum

The recruit turned white realizing his mistake.

“He called her a bitch Jae!” Answered BamBam.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Your boyfriend turned towards two of his closest crewmembers. “Jackson, Mark I believe you know what to do!”

The two men nodded. Jackson grabbed the recruit by the collar dragging him out of the room as he pleaded mercy.

Mark:

He threw one knife after the other. He didn’t understand why Jaebum wanted him to learn how, but he had to follow orders. He’d been in the practice room for what felt hours. He’d only hit his target once every 20 knifes thrown and even then, he didn’t hit exactly where he wanted. He was getting frustrated.

A group of recruits entered the room, never seeing him due to the fact that he was at the far end. They were loud, he hated that, but it made his job easier. He could eavesdrop on them without paying attention.

“Victoria’s Secret angels are the hottest women on this planet hands down!”

“I agree!”

“Nah bro.”

“Alright then, who do you think is hot?”

“Honestly, Mark’s girl is pretty tight.”

Mark’s head snapped towards the recruit as he continued.

“She’s sexy as hell and I’m sure she can take it. If you know what I mean!”

Mark’s grip on the knife in his hand tightened; his knuckles turning white. He didn’t even think as he aimed and threw the knife hitting the recruit in the shoulder. Exactly where he wanted.

The recruit screamed in pain as his friends looked in the direction of where the knife was thrown.

Mark got out of the shadows. “Next time, I’ll aim for your head. Now, go tell Youngjae how you got injured.”

Jackson:

“Where the hell is Yugyeom?” He wondered out loud.

Jaebum just assigned him a new mission and he needed the youngest to be his getaway driver. He looked everywhere but he couldn’t find Yugyeom anywhere. He decided to go to the headquarters’ recruits’ training center. Maybe Yugyeom was teaching something to the recruits.

“Yo,” he heard somebody say on the other side of the door, “Jackson’s girl is so fine. I’d do her anytime any day, if you know what I mean!”

He recognized that voice immediately. It was that stupid new recruit who thought he was better than everybody else.

Jackson didn’t waste anytime after hearing that comment. He threw the door opened and spotted the recruit. He marched towards him and grabbed him, with one hand, by the neck only to slam him in a wall.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Spat Jackson

The recruit couldn’t answer; Jackson was, after all, strangling him. The recruit was turning red. He grabbed Jackson’s arm but Jackson’s grip only tightened.

“Jackson let him go.” Said Jinyoung who was only in the room because he heard the commotion.

Jackson leaned towards the recruit’s ear. “I’m going to make your life a living hell.” He whispered before dropping the recruit on the ground.

Jinyoung:

“So, apparently, my wife looks like a nice fuck toy.” Said Jinyoung sitting in his chair behind his desk.

“No, no, no that’s not what I meant!” Panicked the recruit on the other side of the desk.

Jinyoung raised his hand stopping him. “No need to explain yourself buddy. Mark heard everything. And not to be that guy, but I trust Mark way more than I trust your dumbass.”

The recruit’s head dropped.

“Here’s what’s going to happened.” Started Jinyoung. “You and I are going to take a trip to the station and I’m going to put you behind the bars.”

“What for? I didn’t do anything!”

Jinyoung raised a file in the air. “That’s not what this file says. It says that you were spotted selling drugs and weapons on the streets. What an amateur! Not only do I have evidence that you did, I, also, have witnesses.”

“But I never did!” Screamed the recruit.

Jinyoung got up and grabbed the recruit pulling him up. He put the recruit’s hands behind his back and handcuffed them.

“Between you and me, who do you think they’re going to believe pal? The sergeant of the organized crime division or some random crook who’s already been arrested once for drug possession?”

A silence felt the room.

Jinyoung leaned towards the recruit. “Check mate bitch.”

Youngjae:

He was removing a bullet in a recruit’s leg. You were by his side, helping him. He needed the extra set of hands when it came to those situations; the last time he needed someone he asked Jackson, but he almost fainted.

“Could you pass me the stitching needle love?” Asked Youngjae

You grabbed it and handed it to him.

“It must be nice to have her around here Laughter!” Said the recruit

“What do you mean?” Replied your boyfriend

“Well, she does whatever you say and doesn’t say a word. She’s like your slave, your own little bitch.”

You mouth hanged open; you couldn’t believe the audacity of that guy.

Youngjae stopped what he was doing. He looked at the recruit for a good minute before he stuck his index finger in his wound. The recruit screamed in agony.

“Listen to me you fucktard,” spat Youngjae, “If I catch you calling my girl a bitch one more time, I’ll make sure you end up dying in pure agony. I might even let you bleed on the floor for all I care about. Am I clear?”

The recruit nodded biting his lip.

“Good, now leave. I don’t even want to stitch you up anymore!”

BamBam:

He was used to it really. He should probably stop feeling like this every time it happened. It should roll off his back, but he just couldn’t. You were his girl. He thought that was obvious when you entered the club with him.

He watched you, politely turn down another random dude, from the second floor of the club. He rolled his eyes, but when he stared back at you. The situation was worrying. The guy was being very aggressive towards you, grabbing your arm and trying to pull you in his direction.

BamBam ran down the stairs, almost breaking his leg in the process. This was not happening, especially not under his watch.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out when he was finally next to you, “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to go with you buddy.”

BamBam placed his hand on your back reassuring you.

“Mind your own fucking business skinny and let my girl and I settle this!” Barked the guy

BamBam made a disapproving sound. “Oh man, you just said something that was super incorrect!”

In choc, the guy let go of your arm. BamBam slowly raised your left hand in front of the guy and did the same with his. “See dumbass, we have matching rings. She’s my wife. And this,” he raised his hands in the air, “is my club.”

Your husband looked at two of his bodyguards and with one look they understood. They dragged the guy outside, this guy wasn’t leaving without a few bruises. 

Yugyeom:

He loved to bring you to his races; you brought him some peace on those hectic nights.

He held your hand tightly; he didn’t want to lose you in the crowd, as you two walked to where his car was parked.

“I just want to check something real quick baby.” He said unlocking the car. “Then we’ll go see the other races.”

“Alright.” You replied.

He opened the driver’s door and sat in the seat. He wanted to make sure that their mechanic team did what he asked. He could not afford to lose because some idiot didn’t do their job.

As he was checking his dashboard, he heard someone talk to you.

“Hey pretty ass, what is a beautiful girl like you doing here?”

“Ew,” Yugyeom heard you reply. A small smile appeared on his lips, he loved how straight forward you were, “leave asshole. I don’t want anything to do with you!”

Every thing seemed fine in his dashboard, so he popped the hood of the car to go check if everything was fine there too.

“Listen up you bitch!” The stranger barked. “You’re not going to tell me what to do or I’ll have my guys take care of you!”

That struck a cord in Yugyeom. Who was this guy threatening you with no actual reason? He grabbed his gun from the inside of his jacket and got out of the car.

He pointed his gun at the stranger. “Say that again fucker!”

You slammed your hand on Yugyeom’s chest. “I’ll take care of it”

He looked at you questionably.

“Alright sweetheart!” You yelled. “Bring your guys, I’m so scared of them I’m shaking in my pants. Anyway what do…”

As Yugyeom watched you tell the guy off, he lowered his gun and smiled. He couldn’t believe he was in love with a badass.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Number Two (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Characters: Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader (AU)

Summary: Reader hopes and dreams to be the first choice, but she ended up being an option.

Warning: Angsty, cussing, INFIDELITY, sugar daddy kinda relationship? I mean, well. You'll understand it soon after reading this. Italics meant a flashback in the end alright? I shall give you guys some angst yooooo!! Y/N means your name. 

Words: 2,386

A/N: I’m posting the ones I haven’t posted yet from Wattpad as I take my break. Might be taking one more week of break too. Hehehehe. 

REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE IT A LIKE, IF YOU’VE LIKED THIS SHORT ONESHOT! THANK YOU!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too.

MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Kisses, feather like kisses were peppered on the back of your neck. His warmth enveloping around you, those comforting arms stuck on your waist, making you feel jello on the knees, soon enough to buckle and be weak for him.

"Draga," Sebastian lowly spoke ever so sweetly, still peppering you with kisses as he stood behind you, watching your skillful hands do the job in making dinner. His presence was making you weak, too weak for your own good. You hummed a reply, your complete focus wholly on the vegetables you were chopping. Sebastian's thumbs were slowly caressing your waist, his lips hidden behind the front of his teeth as he was anxiously trying to think how to word everything out better.

Better words that would not leave your heart in misery and in pain.

"I...I--Well," He stuttered, his heart skipping a beat. The image of you in his huge polo was making him want to stay, it was making it worth enough for another pathetic lie to be said for the latter. You were perfect in his eyes, despite of the stomach flabs, your height and especially your big, wonderful heart.

Y/N was the epitome of every man's dream, her attitude and personality was making him stay. Yet, why didn't he pick you in the first place?

"You're going?" You calmly uttered, your knife stopping halfway from cutting a tomato, a painful smile lifting the ends of your lips, wanting nothing more than to frown and show him how he was hurting you, crushing your big, innocent heart.

He hesitatingly nodded, his lips in a tight thin line. Sebastian wanted nothing more than to stay, he wanted to cherish this sweet, mirthful moment with you. But, why didn't he? Why did he still chose her?

"Yeah. She texted---told me we had reservations at eight in which I totally forgot about, she even said I asked for it the other night but it slipped out of my mind," He forgot, you thought. Even though you didn't want to cheer and be happy that you were making him forget her, you still did. Your heart clapped from the mistake he did.

Yet, why did it still hurt?

"Well," You sighed, spinning around to see Sebastian pouting, his mind currently in a conflicted battle. "---you better get going, Love."

Love. It was the truth. You already love him with all your heart, and the more this..relationship of your continues, the more it becomes difficult to let go. Not that you plan on doing that soon.

"You sure you're not mad?" He stared into your eyes, it was technically the window to everybody's soul and from his perspective..All he saw was your positive, loving self. Never seeing the wounds hidden behind those E/C eyes of yours. Nonetheless, it was hurting him to leave you either.

"No, I'm not." Lies. It was all lies because all you ever felt in that exact moment was pain. All you wanted to do was lock himself up in your apartment, wanting to scream at him as you hoped to be his choice, and not his option. "---you need to go," You fidgeted with the collars of his polo, eyes trained on his Steele blue eyes that you so wanted not to forget before it vanish soon, the other woman having the bigger privilege to stare at his gorgeous blue eyes all night.

The truth was making your heart itch in vain.

"But, I'm keeping this polo of yours. It's comfy," You joked, forcing yourself to smile. His pout turned into a chuckle, that's right. That's what you wanted his last image to be, his beautiful laugh. "You're seriously going to make me come out shirtless?"

"Oh come on, you have tons of shirts inside my closet. You can seriously have a sleepover and not be worried about having no clothes to wear the next day," All you could ever do was dream that he could sleep beside you all night, keep him tuck beside you with your love. However, he never did. A few times, sure. But, he always went back to her. He always comes back home.

And your only wish in your life was to finally be his home, where he could come home to you and only you.

All Sebastian could ever do was chuckle. It was a phrase that he could never answer back, he wanted to have that moment with you too. But, the knot he had with her was making everything impossible.

"Try not to finish everything for me, I'm coming over again tomorrow," He smiled, the painful happiness reaching his eyes. Sebastian leaned down to give you a deep kiss, he so wanted more than just a kiss, but his phone kept vibrating inside his pockets and it was frustrating him.

The softness of your lips made him kiss you another, trapping that softness in between his teeth, softly tugging the flesh as he rested his forehead on yours, sharing exasperated breaths with you. After that breathtaking kiss, you were a goner. Definitely making your knees buckle behind you but you toughly stood on your ground.

"I love you," Sebastian voiced out completely breathless, like he was scared that somebody else would hear. Though the meaning behind those words made everything worth the sins. It made everything better. "I love you more," and it was the truth. You loved him more than he ever could do.

Sebastian left the apartment, not forgetting to give you another kiss before he went out and about. Back to where he was supposed to be. You bit your lip in sadness, your eyes turning hot and cloudy, tears threatening to fall as you stared at the ceiling, trying your hardest not to but everything you see was reminding you of him.

Your apartment, your clothes, your credit card, and basically everything. It was all from him, he bought everything for you, just for you to be his.

Even though, he wasn't rightfully yours to call.

"Fuck," You whined out, on the verge of tears as you held the curves of your waist. You held your nose bridge, trying to stop the tears from falling because you didn't want to cry. All you ever wanted was to embrace the positiveness, yet as you remember the previous rendezvous, the reality was making you down in the dumps. "---G-Guess I have to eat by myself then," You stuttered, taking small, grudging steps towards your refrigerator.

The freezer slapped open, taking out the beef you saw something shiny in the middle of the cave like, cold ice. Your fingers delicately touching the shiny jewelry sitting in the middle of your freezer, digging it out of the cold compartment. Your fingertips painfully feeling how cold the jewelry was.

He probably wanted the time to stop, even wanted her feelings for him to turn cold so that was why he chucked it in the freezer. What a dork, you thought out loud mindlessly. Shaking your head, you examined the jewelry resting in the middle of your palm and wanted nothing but to throw it away. 

Sebastian's wedding ring.

Despite of how he was trying to keep it away from him. It still hurt to see it up close and on the palm of your hand. Why? Because in the words of the country's law.

You were still number two, and will never be his lawful woman.

"Welcome to Starbucks, what will be your order for today, Ma'am?" You energetically welcomed the new customer standing in front of you. She was a beautiful woman, perfect even. Her features were proportional and sharp, blonde hair wavy looking like she just had curled it with a curling iron five minutes ago. The woman had a physique of a sexy model, curvy and busty.

She was the entire opposite of you. Certainly even older than you.

"One Cinnamon Dolcè Lattè," She spoke with a raspy, sexy thread of her voice. It was probably her tone of voice, God had gifted her with a tone of voice like Scarlett Johansson. You nodded with a friendly smile, tapping her order up on the monitor screen laying in front. "Will that may be all, ma'am?"

"Oh, and a Caffè Americano," The beautiful woman added. You punched her orders and remained eye contact with her. "Anything else?" She clucked her tongue, taking a glance at the menu above her. You tapped your foot in habit as you wait for more orders to come.

"One Gluten free breakfast sandwich," She nonchalantly answered. When you thought she would order more, she began whipping her pretty head around, appearing to find a friend.

The woman's emotionless face lit up when she got a glance of the man she was waiting for. Her demeanor changed and especially her voice which turned higher and jolly. "Babe!" She called her boyfriend jogging towards to where she was. Your eyes went straight to the man's shoes. Grey Nike running shoes, black jogger shorts and a grey shirt, his white beats clung around his neck. You knew that style of outfit whenever he goes for a run, you knew those thighs...

Your breath became labored, palms began to sweat and your throat turned dry when you saw a very familiar face that was slowly coming closer. He certainly didn't felt your presence as he haven't got a glimpse of your dumbfounded face.

Sebastian laid his gorgeous Steele blue eyes on her, those eyes that have been staring at you lovingly the other night. Now, those orbs were fixated on a woman who he tied the knot with. A woman who was the first choice and not an option. "You want something?" The woman batted her eyelashes up at him and you wanted nothing more than to run off and escape from the nightmare happening in front of you. Yet, you couldn't because your feet stood cold and unmoving on the ground. Your eyebrows were furrowed as your eyes were trained on the sweaty, precious man that you love.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks," He nonchalantly muttered, eyes still on her and you wanted him to look into your eyes instead. Just like how he does. The woman snapped her head in your direction, skimmed her eyes from your face towards your name tag. Her whole demeanor turned smug, a coy smile tugging her lips in a tight smirk. "That may be all.." She paused, reading your name before you saw a mischievous glint behind those eyes. "---Y/N,"

With just one mention of your name, it had Sebastian's eyes concentrated on you. His mouth forming a tight, thin line from the realization that you were right in front of him, from them, from his wife. His broad shoulders fell and became slacked when his eyes connected with yours. Everything came crashing down.

It's definitely a small world after all. Destiny was giving you the agonizing pleasure to see the lawfully wedded wife face to face, making your make-believe world  disappear in just a snap.

Your eyes turned hot and your heart felt like Thanos was gripping your heart with his gauntlet. You knew Sebastian felt and saw the vulnerability you just launched. The world turned hazy and steady around you, even the noise buzzing around the coffee shop was slowly fading away, your focus only on the couple in front of you.

So, it was her. His wife still smiled so innocently, looking naive yet those smiles of hers..Hatred came with it, being the first emotion you see behind her eyes when she brought her walls down.  

She knew.

"I’ve always wanted to be a Stan," You muttered beneath your breath as Sebastian hovered above you, his lips lightly ghosting on top of yours. His medium length hair cascaded around his beautiful face, caving in his gifted features as he looked damn breathtaking. Sebastian lightly pecked your lips, your hands shamelessly caressing his protruding bare firm chest, trailing down his fit torso.

He avoided looking into your eyes, staring at your lips instead. He knew how your eyes were sparkling in aspiration and it was hurting him to answer the truth.

"You know that'll just complicate things, right?" He gave out a forced smile.

"I know, Seb. I was just kidding,"

You only gave a smile back as you trapped him in a heated kiss, dissipating the ache surrounding your sinful soul. Creating an unrestrained relationship with a married man was completely obnoxious, never have you imagined doing this all your life.

But, you loved him. You love him a little too much and it was too late to stop now because you would rather be the person he runs to and not the person he comes home to. You'd rather be labeled as an option than be labeled as nothing.

Only you can dream about being a Stan and you never know when you'll get tired of wishing when it'll come true...

Taglist for every Sebastian thing I write (LMAO): @silverkitten547​ @crazybutconfidentaf​