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bopbopstyles · 4 years

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ELEVATED SURFACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, smoking, lots of cursing)

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST (check it out for extras) | INSPO TAG | PLAYLIST

a/n: as a recently graduated srat girl and lover of a good frat party, this one shot was intended to fill the whole in my heart which is LEGIT frat Harry. he is fratty and hot and long haired and a mess. if u like this try out TEMPTATION which is my other frat!h series and the first thing i ever wrote on this gd website (he’s not as fratty but we love him a LOT)

a/n pt.2: as a note, i want to make very clear that frats and greek organizations frequently harbor predators and abusers. i do not in any way condone that behavior or that reality, and i would like to bring attention to a petition to remove a fraterity that had done truly many horrible things--your signature would be a huge help. for survivors of assault, you are not alone, and it is not your fault.

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

Harry is a very fratty frat boy and Y/N is a really good dancer

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“We really should not be still going to our own mixers,” Emily said to you, fluffing her hair and rotating to check her ass in her jeans. You looked up from where you were sitting on your bed, a gin and tonic in one hand to get your blood flowing before the party started. Emily sighed, and then turned from the mirror to you, grabbing the coffee cup that had never seen coffee, just alcohol. “Are people even going?”

You nodded, tossing your phone next to you and leaning against the bed frame. “Alexis is on her way over—she got held up finishing an essay. Maya said she might come, I tried to convince her by promising I’d bring my flask and you’d have your Juul.”

“I swear, she has to just give in and get one of her own.” Emily took a long sip and crossed her arms.

“She claims that will make her addicted.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “She’s already addicted—she uses half my pods and ends up hanging out with whatever guy will let her take a hit. Is it just going to be us and all the new members?”

“No, I think some juniors are going. And definitely the sophomores—they’re all on the little hunt.” You got up, going to your computer to change the song, scrolling through your comprehensive and well-curated pregame playlist. “Plus, who gives a fuck, we’ll only be there for an hour or two for the free alcohol and then we’re hitting the bars.”

“True.” A knock came from the door, and Emily hollered to come in, and Alexis appeared in the doorway, her makeup looking utterly flawless as always. You had always wanted Alexis’s wardrobe and told her constantly, to which Alexis always replied that she wished you were the same size. Unfortunately, Alexis was a solid five inches shorter than you and had a completely different bra size, making sharing quite difficult.

“Bitches, I brought tequila!” Alexis swung into the room in a cloud of perfume, and threw her arms around you and Emily’s shoulders. “Come on, we need to get tipsy before we get to this mixer. Nick already texted me making sure I was coming.”

“Grab the shot glasses,” You replied, nodding to the makeshift bar cart in the corner, which as laden with glasses of all kinds and all your alcohol. “Are you hooking up with him tonight?”

Alexis shrugged, pulling her tequila from her bag and setting it on your desk before turning and going for the shot glasses. “Probably. I don’t know, he’s been weird lately—we hooked up on Monday night, but then he got all weird and left like immediately after and hasn’t texted me since. Barely acknowledged me when we saw each other in the library.”

“Was the sex weird?” Emily asked, unscrewing the top on the tequila so she could pour.

“Yeah,” Alexis replied, holding the glasses steady while Emily poured. “Like weirdly…intense? I let him come inside me which was probably a stupid idea, but I’m on the IUD so we should be all good. And then I offered to let him stay and he just got all flustered and said he had to go.”

You took your full shot glass, and you all clinked before tossing them back, the alcohol burning on your throat. You hated tequila shots but Alexis loved them, and you did admit they did their job. “Do you think he’s caught feelings?”

Alexis’s eyes widened. She had been pining after Nick for ages, his tall basketball stature and surprisingly good fashion sense a dime a dozen. Much less, apparently the sex was insane, so what wasn’t to like? “You think? I thought it might’ve not been his vibe.”

Emily grabbed the bottle. “Another?” You all nodded, and she poured again, The Weeknd crooning in the background. “Just see what happens tonight, feel out what his vibe his.”

“Good idea.” You slammed back another shot, hissing before setting down the glass. “Okay, that’s enough tequila or you two are going to be carrying me home tonight.”

Emily and Alexis laughed, before taking seats on your bed, continuing to chatter about the night ahead. It was a Friday, your favorite night because it was usually just mixers, no general parties, which as a senior you had grown to despise. The fighting for watered down alcohol, packed bodies and horrific gender ratio was simply no longer something you had the energy to deal with. Mixers were your preferred zone, filled with your sorority sisters who you adored, the opportunity to actually hang out with the frat brothers whose presence you enjoyed, and usually pong. Sometimes they even let you DJ because you had the best party playlists. The president of Sig Ep had actually asked for the link one time and you’d heard they used it sometimes when the brothers didn’t want to man the computer anymore.

You surveyed your outfit in your narrow mirror, the black denim jeans and simple white tank that showed a bit of stomach and your tan you’d worked hard on during your winter escape to the Caribbean with your lineage. It was simple, yet it suited your needs—after three and a half years of college parties, you had discovered getting dressed up for frat parties was a useless activity, since your clothes would get drenched in jungle juice and sweat anyways. You left your best outfits for Saturday nights spent clubbing downtown.

If you were being honest, the whole reason you were going tonight was because at the last mixer you’d had with Beta, you’d turned around on the dance floor to find Harry’s eyes on you. You were already dancing with another one of the brothers and ended up making out with him in a corner until you got bored, but you hadn’t been able to get the sight of his eyes on you out of your head.

You’d known Harry since freshman year, your interactions limited mostly to mixers and the occasional run-in in the dining halls when you exchanged pleasantries, or the one time he’d volunteered for a karaoke team for your sorority philanthropy event and you’d been in charge of his team. But the two of you had rarely ever spent time together. That didn’t mean you hadn’t had a lingering crush on him since you’d first laid eyes on him, though, and over the years he’d only gotten more attracted. A body that filled out his white t-shirts and black jeans, hair long and sweeping his shoulders to where he wore it in a bun most times, a jaw that could cut glass. He was hot and he knew it, as did everyone else on campus.

As juniors you had both been on the executive boards of your respective Greek organizations and had ended up in meetings together about housing violations and social calendars, but it hadn’t ever led to much more than you both complaining about how fucking annoying FIJI and their insistent requests for a house was, considering they’d trashed their last one. But this year, you’d found his eyes on you multiple times, and you wondered if perhaps your time had arrived. You’d both always danced around each other and you were curious after all these years if he was finally interested in hooking up. Not that you really expected much more, or were looking for much else—you were a senior, after all, and you were enjoying it.

“Y/N.” Alexis’s voice ripped you from your musings over Harry, her fingers snapping from her spot on your bed. “What’s got you thinking hard over there?”

“Harry?” Emily guessed, one eyebrow raising. “Emmett said he’ll be there tonight.”

“He’s always there,” you replied, because he was. Like you, he seemed to enjoy the mixers, but usually avoided the open parties unless he was on door duty.

“You’d hook up with him, right?”

You looked at Alexis. “Obviously. He’s so fucking hot.”

She laughed, as did Emily. “Then go for it, girl. It’s not like he’ll say no.”

You shrugged. “He might. Never know.”

“I seriously doubt that. You look hot as fuck, as usual, and are the life of the party. Beta adores you. They literally asked you to move in this year when they had an open spot.”

“It was a joke,” you reminded them, because it was—you wouldn’t ever be allowed to live in the house and they knew that. It was true though, you had become a bit of a groupie over the past few years, preferring the more laid back vibe in their house. You’d become friends with all the senior guys, except the weird or obnoxious ones, and had become a regular invite to Bachelor Monday watch parties in their second floor living room. You brought snacks and your friends, they provided the booze and the cable.

“Still,” Emily said, nudging you the toe of her black booties. “Don’t sell yourself short, babes. He is missing a brain if he’s not interested in you.”

“And seriously missing out,” Alexis added. You shot her a look, but she just chuckled. “Bitch, I lived next door to you last year. You are loud.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, laughing, but she was right. You were. Guys had told you on countless occasions, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care all that much. “Come on, we should go. Maya is texting me asking when we’re leaving.”

“Do you have your cigs?” Alexis asks you, downing the rest of the drink she’d made while you had been staring into space.

It was your vice, one you had picked up during a semester abroad and only did when you were drunk. You knew you should stop, but something about it made you feel powerful, a bit badass, so you kept doing it. “Obviously. Emmett will have a fit if I don’t.” You swiped your pack from your desk drawer and your trusty pale blue lighter, and shoved them into the pocket of your jacket. With one last swig of your drink, your veins buzzing with alcohol just the right amount, the three of you were off, singing an old Hannah Montana song in the elevator down to the lobby of your dorm.

One of the pledges was working the door, but happily let you three into the frat house. The lights on the main floor were off, except for the ones in the front study that doubled as a coat room, where you tied the arms of your jackets together and set them in the corner so you didn’t lose them. Your cigs were transferred to your back pocket, and you just prayed you didn’t forget they were there and crush them again.

Josephine and another junior were the sober sisters, and offered you three hugs before checking your names off the list. You got positive points for being there, as if that was the main reason you had shown up.

“Emmett!” Emily called, and the blond-headed boy’s head flipped up from where he was standing behind the bar. A Gatorade water cooler was sitting on the high bar, stacks of red solo cups and boxes of white claws and beers sitting on top of one another.

Aka, your happy place. “He’s bartending, thank god,” you said, and grabbed Emily and Alexis, weaving through the crowd. Girls stopped you all as you moved, hugs and squeals at your appearance. You had to admit, you were popular in your sorority, but mainly because you had made it your mission to get your money worth. As a result of your exec position, you’d gotten to know the sophomore member class and you adored them all, chaotic messes who always turned up with you and made you laugh hysterically. Honestly, you were sad to graduate because it meant leaving behind so many fun friends and memories.

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Emmett said when you arrived in front of him. He was wearing the frat’s homecoming shirt from the previous year and his eyes were dilated, obvious that he had smoked before. “What are we drinking?”

“What’s the mix?” You asked, pointing to the cooler.

He grabbed three cups, knowing you would be taking it. “Shit ton of vodka, Kool Aid, water, the usual.”

“My favorite,” you replied, blowing him a kiss. “How is it downstairs?”

He filled the cups and handed them to you all. “They just wrapped up pong so it’s still getting moving.”

Alexis took a long sip before grabbing your hand. “Sounds like we need to get people dancing.” With that she turned around, her long slick black hair moving in a circle. “Let’s dance!” She called, and the girls around you cheered, following the three of you down the slippery steps to the basement.

Downstairs, The Motto was playing and you bobbed your head along with the beat, moving your hips as you entered the large basement space. It was dark except for a glowing sign with the Beta letters in narrow neon lights, casting the room with a tint of green. Your battered frat shoes, an old pair of white Vans, stuck against the beer and jungle juice-covered floor as you made your way to the middle. A couple of other girls and brothers were scattered around the floor, and you broke from Emily and Alexis’s hands as you twirled on the floor.

You raised your cup above your head and started dancing, rapping the lyrics by heart, moving your hands and hips along with the song. Emily and Alexis sang along with you and some of the younger girls showed up, then some other seniors who shared your love for frat parties. All of a sudden your little was screaming and running towards you, Mallory’s arms wrapping around your waist.

“Oh my fuck god, MOM,” she screamed, using the nickname she’d had for you since you’d taken her as your little two years ago. You laughed and threw your arm around her shoulders, screaming the lyrics. There was a specific reason you had taken Mallory as your little, and it was because she lost her shit at parties just as much as you did. You two were a dynamic duo like no other, and if your grand little didn’t have a huge exam on Monday, she’d be here too and you would all be dancing together as usual.

You downed your jungle juice, the sugary drink combined with the loud music blasting and your friends making your adrenaline kick into high gear. And then Maya appeared, arms waving like crazy, and then she dropped it low and you remembered why you adored her, even if she always stole Emily’s Juul. She had a beer in one hand and a white claw in the other, ready for the night ahead.

Then Emmett appeared, trailed by some of the other brothers in tank tops and t-shirts, one carrying a six pack on his shoulder and handing out warm beers to the brothers he passed. Emmett beelined for Emily, his arm thrown around her shoulder, their completely platonic friendship on show for everyone. The song ended and you took a breath, crushing your cup and tossing it into the corner so you could have your hands free. Emily pulled her Juul free and took a hit, passing it to Maya next without a question between them.

The opening notes of Come Get Her started and you immediately grabbed Alexis and Emily, beelining for the bar that the speakers rested on, something you weren’t even sure how it got there, but it was your favorite elevated surface of all time. Wide enough to dance, tall enough to be high but not too high where you couldn’t mostly stand. You clamored up, coming to nearly full height and turning to your friends.

“Somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper!” You screamed, your friends coming in a circle in front of the three of you, some other girls getting up on the bar. When the line came through again, you decided fuck it, and you dropped your ass low, bending your knees and tipping your head back.

When you danced, you didn’t give a single fuck about impressing guys or any of that. You just simply loved to dance with your friends, move your hips, and didn’t care what you looked like. Mallory screamed when you got low, your name falling from her lips in a squeal of joy.

That had him moving. He joined a circle where Emmett and some other senior guys were dancing with some other girls, beers in hand as they shifted back and forth. But you knew what would have them all actually dancing and screaming and jumping along with you. You needed to see Harry like that—loose and free. So you turned around and grabbed the attention of the sophomore on aux, his name something along the lines of Justin, and screamed your song choice to him. He gave you a thumbs up, and then you turned back around. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, and you rolled it into a loose, high bun, pulling the elastic on your wrist around it as you swayed to the song.

You could hear the song ending, and with your eyes on Harry, you decided you would get down. He was next to a pledge with a six pack, and you wanted a beer. You were mixing alcohols like nobody’s business tonight, but you’d done worse. You squatted down and kicked your feet out, Mallory’s hand coming out to help you down. “You good?” She asked, leaning in to you.

“Yeah, just hot,” you replied. “Going to get a beer.” She nodded and let you go. There wasn’t a need to watch your friends as much in a normal party, since you knew all the girls here. Maya pulled you in for a hug as you moved, and then the current president called out your name from where she stood with her boyfriend, a white claw in her hand.

Squeezing next to Emmett, you nudged the waist of the pledge next to you. “Can I get one?” You asked, pointing to the beers.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling one from the case and handing it to you. It was a Natty Light, but you really could’ve given fewer fucks—they were a frat after all, they didn’t buy the good stuff.

You popped the tab and took a long swig, the liquid quelling your rough throat from singing. And then, the song changed, and you smiled, eyes meeting Harry’s. You decided you were going to draw him out. “I got hoes, callin’!” You screamed, the song starting the speakers, and the boys all joined in. Fuck it, you thought, and chugged the rest of your beer so that you could jump, your arms outstretched and pumping up and down. Your bun was bouncing on your head and you were grinning, the music flowing through you.

Harry was watching you, his head tapping, hair swishing back and forth. You needed more. So you moved into the center of the circle, knowing the guys would hype you up, and reached for him. “Why aren’t you dancing?” You asked him playfully, and his eyebrow shot up.

“Fuck! Shit! Bitch!” The best lines of the song ran through the speaker and you just grabbed his hand, which was warm, and pulled on him. Suddenly his body was in front of you, close, and you tried to process what your original plan was. But then, Harry started moving, back and forth, head bopping, rapping the lyrics in time, and you knew you had gotten him. “I be ballin’, like a motherfuckin’ pro,” you sang, starting up to jump, and to your surprise, Harry joined you, a carefree expression finally crossing his face. He was screaming the lyrics then, hair bouncing as he moved. He rotated, grabbing the shoulders of another one of the boys, who joined in with him, them screaming the lyrics at each other.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the change in his demeanor so sudden. When the song changed, T-Shirt by Migos coming on, he turned back to you. All of a sudden, his lips were next to your ear and you choked on air. “Fuckin’ love that song,” he said, accent smooth in your ear.

“You and every other frat boy,” you replied, stepping backwards. You had ended up at the side of the circle closer to the wall, and so you moved towards it, freeing yourself from the heavy circle of boys.

The song was slower, not a jumping and dancing song, but one that suggested the slow grinding of hips and closeness of bodies. Which fuck it, you wanted. Desperately. He was looking at you with an intense stare, smile sloppy from alcohol, Harry sweaty on his forehead, arms straining under the fabric of his shirt. He was following you, taking a step away from his friends and following your body as if magnetic. So you just went for it, putting your weight lower, and rolled your hips back and forth to the music.

Mama told me/not to sell work/Seventeen five/same color T-shirt

Your eyes met his, and the shared intensity of his gaze stirred something inside of you. Desire. A need to know what his skin felt like, a desire that had been lingering since you first saw him. Your hands moved on their own, draping over his shoulders, and his hands found the curve of your waist, and suddenly you knew what his skin felt like on yours. They found the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the top of your jeans, burning your already warm skin.

Justin-something on aux changed the song, deciding that was enough, and then No Role Modelz was on, and you moved, swaying back and forth, your chests coming closer and closer. His face was inches from yours and you wondered what his lips would taste like. The slow rap and smooth feel of the beat had your eyes fluttering shut, mind twirling from the alcohol and the lowlights, the heat of the packed basement. If you didn’t have Harry under your hands, you might have left for a smoke break, an excuse for air. But you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon. So you turned around and when your ass touched his dick you couldn’t help but smile—he was already hard. You felt his arm move and watched him sip his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. You rolled your hips against him and then reached up, grabbing the can and bringing it to your own lips, taking a sip and watching him watch you. The two of you were taunting each other, acting on a feeling that had always been an undercurrent in every one of your interactions, a slight sexual tension that if you pulled on would become taught.

Which as you pressed against him, you fucking yanked on. His free hand clasped around your hip, holding you close and swaying in time with you. You could feel the sweat that had soaked through his t-shirt a bit, but you didn’t care—you were sweaty yourself, so was everyone in the room. It was part of the appeal, the fact that everyone was a mess and no one cared. He was rock hard between the denim of both of your jeans, and you could feel the power racing through you, the fact that you had him like this going straight to your head.

When Mr. Brightside came on, you decided that was your smoke break time. You couldn’t stand the song after so many years, and the feeling of bodies pressing together as they jumped was too much for you. “I’m going to get some air,” you said, turning around so you could face Harry.

He was so close to you, just inches away, when his tongue licked over his lip. “Can I come with?”

“Sure.” You grabbed his hand as you moved through the crowd, pushing between frat brothers and your sorority sisters who were all dancing together to the song. When you made it through the exit you sighed, the stale air of the stairwell even feeling better than that room.

“Fuck it was hot in there,” Harry said, your hand dropping from his. He followed you up the stairs and you nodded. You pushed open the door and a Doja Cat song was playing, some people upstairs scattered around, drinking and talking, some sitting on couches together. You waved to Maya, who seemed to have also needed a break, and nodded to the door as if to tell her you were getting some air.

“I’m going to smoke if that’s okay,” you told him as you made your way to the door, pulling your cigs and lighter from your back pocket.

He nodded. “Can I bum one?”

You opened the heavy oak door and said hello to the handful of guys sitting on the steps, who were manning the door and making sure no one random got in. “Sure,” you responded to Harry finally, sitting down on the concrete half wall that lined the landing. You could hear the slight thump of the music, but for the most part it was quiet, the the frat house a couple yards away not throwing anything tonight.

Harry leaned against the wall close to you, taking your offered cigarette. You flicked the lighter and raised it to your cigarette, taking a drag when it lit. Then you handed it to Harry, who accepted it gladly, doing the same. The smoke filled your lungs and your drunken mind considered that you should quit, but at the same time, you liked having something to do when you got air, an excuse to be on the steps. One of the other guys asked for one, and you handed one over, making a new friend.

And then you looked back to Harry. “So,” you said, tapping the ash on your cig. “How have you been?”

You hadn’t seen him since your last mixer with Beta, but you two hadn’t talked in ages. “Good,” he replied. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

“What are you studying again?”

“Political science,” he answered, and your eyebrows shot up. You had expected business or economics, like most of the Beta brothers.

“Why poli sci?”

He shrugged, tapping the ash before taking another drag. “Dunno, really. Took a class freshman year and liked it enough.”

“You don’t want to work in politics or something?”

“I don’t really know what I want to do, honestly.”

“You make it sound like that’s unusual,” you tell him. “Most people don’t.”

He chuckles, a low sound from the back of his throat, and you like the sound of it. “I’ll tell my dad that next time we talk.” You could tell there was a story there, but didn’t push. It wasn’t that kind of moment. “What about you?”

“Psych and pre-law,” you reply, the answer rolling off your tongue with ease.

“Oh? What kind of law?”

You took another drag before answering. “Criminal defense, but I want to work with people on death row.”

His eyes widen, just as you expected. It’s the usual response from people. “Fuck, that’s awesome. What made you interested in it?”

“I just got really into true crime when I was in middle school and ended up doing research on the criminal justice system and what a fucking disaster it is. Death sentences and death row especially. So I want to overturn false convictions.”

He puffed a cloud of smoke, and you watched his lips form a circle, a dark pink color that drew you in. “And you said most people don’t know what they want to do.”

A breeze made the hair on your arm hair stand up, and you rubbed the skin to warm up. It was cold tonight. “I’m unusual,” you told him. “Most of my friends have no idea what they’re doing after graduation.”

You had reached the end of your cigarette, so you dropped it to the ground and stamped it out, the combination of the nicotine and alcohol making your head deliciously hazy. “I’m going back in.”

Harry dropped his cigarette too, putting out the bud. “Lead the way.” He swiped his ID card on the door to let you both in, and you held the door for him, the sound of Post Malone sweeping through the house. “Want another drink?”

You mentally considered how drunk you were, came to the conclusion that you could take some more, and nodded. “White claw, please.” If you laid off the jungle juice you would last a bit longer, and you weren’t particularly wanting to get wasted tonight—you wanted to see where this went.

Harry nodded and walked towards the bar, while you turned to the group of girls closest to you, who were drinking juice and chattering amongst themselves. They immediately started asking you about Harry, about what was happening, and you shrugged because you truly didn’t know. “He’s hot,” one of them, a sophomore named Cat said. “You going to go for it?”

“If the opportunity presents itself,” you replied. You weren’t going to push with Harry, the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of him. You’d follow his lead, see what he was interested in, matching his flirting and see where it went. Not to say you weren’t forward, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. “What about you guys?”

Cat launched into an in-depth analysis of the weird flirtation she’d been having with a junior guy in Beta, how they’d hooked up once but not again, but he kept looking at her. You encouraged her to go for it if she wanted, and she grinned, perhaps just needing an extra push. All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your back, and Harry was next to you, a Black Cherry white claw in one hand, a Heineken in the other.

“If I’d know there were Heinekens I would’ve had that,” you told him, accepting your white claw.

His hair fell behind his shoulders when he tipped the beer back. “Most girls don’t like beer.”

“Well you’ve met one now.” You liked messing with him, dropping flirtations into the conversation and pushing buttons. It made him smirk at you and you loved it, the twinkle in his eyes and the pinkness of his lips.

“H.” A guy appeared behind Harry. “We’re out of vodka.”

“How are we out?” He asked, taking another sip of his beer.

The guy, a pledge from the looks of him, grimaced. “Someone took one of the bottles.”

“Fuck,” Harry said with a sigh. “Have one of the other pledges go get more and keep the receipt. Get more claws while you’re out, we’re running low.” With that, he turned back to you, exhaling sharply. The boy disappeared, sensing that was his cue.

Right as you were about to speak, you heard the opening notes of I Love It from downstairs, and you turned to the girls around you. “Downstairs,” you told them, and they all tossed back the rest of their drinks before tossing them into the trash can a few paces away. You opened the door to the basement and then looked back to Harry. “Coming?”

That made him move, following you down into the dark stairwell that smelled of stale beer and sweat. He stayed close to you, and when your foot slipped on a stair he reached out to steady you, a hand to your side that made your body warm with more than just the temperature of the room. The girls in front of you streamed into the room, screaming the lyrics to the song.

“You’re such a fucking hoe/I love it!” You joined in, laughing at the lyrics in spite of yourself, but the truth is you fucking loved the song. It was absurd and was filthy, but you liked screaming the lyrics in a room with a bunch of your friends.

You twirled around and walked into the room backward, moving your body with the beat, taunting Harry to follow you. Which he did, as if connected to you by a magnet. You could see his lips moving, the lyrics falling from his lips to match you. You stopped moving in the middle of the room and Harry’s hands found your hips. Turning in his hands, a coy smile on your face, you knew what this song was going to involve. Hips moved on their own accord, grinding hard against him. You could feel his breath on your neck, the lyrics I’m a sick fuck/I like a quick fuck/I like my dick sucked/I’ll buy you a sick truck in your ear. Hearing the words on his lips for some reason had your blood pumping, and you wanted to hear them again on a loop.

His dick was hard against your ass and your hands stretched behind you, finding his hips to hold him close. His head fell to your neck, nosing at your skin, his fingers on the bare skin at your waist clenching. Your hips moved in time with each other, his body dropping to be at the height as yours, chasing the desire that was running between you. Your head tipped back against his chest and eyes fluttered shut, letting the alcohol in your veins and the music pounding in your ears take over. All you could feel was him, the cut of his body and the strength of his arms next to you, his hips insistently rubbing against yours and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually grind on him.

The song changed, Work Out by J. Cole sounding through the speakers and you pulled away from him and turned to face him. You were going to put on a bit of a show, you decided, because why the fuck not. It was clear at this point that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, so why pretend like anything else was happening?

So when the lyrics Let me see you get/High then go low/Now, girl won't you drop that thing down to the floor? fell through the speakers you dropped to the ground, Harry’s eyes following you came back up slowly, your body just inches from his. His hands fell on your body, grabbing at your waist to keep you close, pressing his hips forward to grind right over the front of your jeans and you panted from both the heat in the room and the pleasure ripping through your body. When the chorus came again, you dropped down, and this time you ran your hands down his legs lightly as you moved, fingers dancing down and then back up the seams of his jeans.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said and you could barely hear him over the music.

His eyes met yours, searing into yours, a question passing between you. And then you were moving towards each other, an answer to the question in the way your lips met, slotted together and pulled at one another. Your hands were pulling at his shirt, grabbing at the material and the skin underneath, one of his hand holding your head close to his, the other at your waist. It was fast and messy, your lip pulling on his bottom one, before chasing him, his tongue brushing at the seam of your lips before dipping inside.

Kissing Harry was hot. It was like setting your whole body on fire with desire and you just wanted to know what the rest of him felt like because his lips were sending you to another planet. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and a moan escaped you, desperation clear in your throat. You could feel bodies press around you, the notes of Fire by Louis the Child ringing through the room. When the beat dropped, you knew people were jumping, the guys doing that thing where they slammed into each other like some kind of mosh. But Harry just stayed there, pulling his lips into yours, drawing wet pants from your body. He was holding tight to you as if you were going to slip away, even though that was the last place you wanted to go.

But you decided you wanted to tease him a bit more. Not let him get away, but just…push him a bit. So you drew away, enough to where you could dance, your sorority sisters at your back—you had seen Alexis move behind you. You grinding on her, your asses touching, and you could hear her laughter, before moving against you. It was something you two always did, dancing partners since the moment you met.

“If I go down in flames/The smoke going to spell my name,” you sang.

Harry watched you, his eyes burning a line down your body, the ministrations of your hips against Alexis’s. And then he was moving towards you, his front pressed yours and his lips were at your ear. “Drink?”

You nodded, and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. People were moving down them and you pressed yourself to the wall to let them pass, before following Harry up the stairs to the main floor. “Is there anything better than that shit?” You asked him when you stood next to him, his arm loosely around your waist, holding you to him.

His gaze drifted to the bar and then back to you. “I’ve got some stuff in my room.”

You knew he lived in the house, the result of being on exec last year and having first dibs after the current exec board was placed, the hierarchy the same as in your own sorority house. “Do you have mixers?” As much as you drank, you still hated drinking most straight alcohol, especially if you were going to be sipping on it. When he nodded, you replied, “Let’s go.”

You caught the eye of Emily who was standing on the other side of the room, watching you, and you pointed upstairs to tell her where you were going. After she gave you a thumbs up, letting you know she’d check in before leaving, a silent conversation well rehearsed over the years, you followed Harry up the stairs. Other guys and girls streamed down them, coming from rooms where they were smoking or using the bathroom or drinking just like you.

“What floor are you on?” You asked when you passed the first floor, twisting to go up the second flight.

“Third,” he replied, not pausing no the stairs. “It’s quieter.”

That made sense, as you could imagine if he didn’t feel like partying one night it would be kind of hard to avoid. You followed him up, the sound of the music fading as you made your way higher into the frat house. You passed other girls on the way you exchanged hugs and promises to catch up after chapter on Monday night. Finally, you made it to the third floor, and Harry pushed open the door to a room with his name on it.

You followed him in and the first thing you noticed was how much of a boy’s room it was. Messy comforter, clothes on the floor, alcohol bottles lining the window sill, the frat’s flag above his bed. Some posters and photos littered the opposite wall, a single framed photo of what looked like his family on his dresser, along with some random items like cologne and a brush and hair ties. A pair of athletic shoes and boots were shoved into one corner, and a tub of protein powder sat on top of his mini-fridge, along with a stack of solo cups. On his desk was a bong and a couple of lighters, his computer sitting next to it on a charger. The dorm room was narrow, most of it taken up with a double bed that you were a bit confused by, since most rooms just had a single.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” he said, shutting the door behind you. If you focused on it, you could hear nerves in his voice, a low laugh in the back of his throat as he surveyed his room. “Didn’t expect to have people up here.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, moving into the middle of the room to get out of the doorway, taking in the space.

“Uh, I’ve got Tito’s, Jack, some gin one of the guys got me.”

It drew you back to the whole reason you were in his room. He was standing next to his mini-fridge, a solo cup in his hand as he looked at you. “What mixers do you have?”

“Coke, juice, and tonic,” he replied. “Sorry, it’s not much.”

You shook your head. “Tito’s and tonic,” you told him. Usually you would’ve been all over the Jack and coke option, but considering how much you’d already drank the last thing you needed was to mix clear and dark liquors.

You watched him pour, leaning against his desk as you waited. He handed you the cup, asking you to try it and tell him if it was too strong. You took a sip and it was strong, but not too much. Then, he made a whiskey and coke you were jealous of, and the two of you stood in his room, not quite sure what to do. You didn’t want to go back down the party, the feeling of fresh air—even though it smelled vaguely like college boy, a mixture of sweat and cologne that you keenly recognized—feeling good on your skin.

“Want to listen to some music?” He asked, moving towards you. There was a bluetooth speaker on his desk, you realized, and shifted away so he could get at his computer.

You decided to sit on the bed, thighs resting on the soft comforter. “Sure.” You pulled your cigarettes and lighter from your back pocket, before looking back at him.

He fiddled with the speaker, the sound of it connecting ricocheting in the small room, before clicking keys to wake up his computer. “Any preferences?”

“I’m good with whatever,” you replied. “I like pretty much everything.” It was true, you had everything from country to Top 40s and rap on your Spotify, a variety of playlists to fit the mood.

He pulled on his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as he perused his Spotify and you tried not to focus on the sight. Low music began to sound in the room and you immediately recognized the beginning notes of Let Her Go by 6LACK, a smile drifting onto your face. He must have noticed, because he turned around, his cup in his hand. “You like 6LACK?”

“More like obsessed,” you replied and he chuckled.

He sat on the edge of the desk, his knees falling open, his back slumped a bit. “I don’t know a single girl who even knows who he is.”

You took a sip of your drink before replying, resting your body back on one hand. “They must not have good music taste, then.”

Harry gave you a small smile, an edge of playfulness to it. “Where’s home for you?”

“Denver,” you responded. “You?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

“Where’s that?”

He brushed a hand through his hair, the long locks slipping between his fingers and you couldn’t help but wish you were the one doing it. “South of Manchester. It’s a small town, lots of fields and shit like that.”

You’d never been to England so you had no idea of where Manchester was, but you didn’t ask. “Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t want to like, move back or anything. But it’s a good place to go home to.”

Denver felt the same way to you—it was home, but it wasn’t a place you saw a future in. You’d go where law school took you, and then the work, wherever you could make the biggest impact. “Where do you want to go?”

The solo cup hung in his hands, and he twirled it a bit, the rim of the cup pressed between his fingers. “LA, maybe. New York. Not sure, really. London, most likely, unless I can get a job and someone to sponsor my Visa so I can stay.”

“Do you like the states?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions, but you’d never had a conversation like this with him and you were curious. Curious about him, about who he was, underneath all the frat shit that he loved so much.

“It’s different than home,” he replied, and you understood what he meant. “I don’t think I’ll want to be here forever, but it’s good for right now. Got friends here now.”

You took another sip of your drink, and then pushed yourself up, the need to pee suddenly overtaking your body. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall. Make sure you slam on the door before locking it—it got fucked up during homecoming and hasn’t been the same ever since.”

You nodded and took your cup with you, four years of college ingraining some lessons into your bones. Down the hall, you found a blond wood door and a doorknob that was barely attached to the door. You pushed it open and shut it quickly, shoving against it with your shoulder so that you could flip the lock. Inside, you wondered for the millionth time why boys were in capable from having a properly stocked bathroom. Head & Shoulders shampoo littered the floor of the shower, a flimsy shower curtain that had come free from a couple of the rings. You squatted to pee, grabbing the toilet paper roll that sat on top of the toilet, no one even bothering to properly put it away.

As you peed, you scrolled through your phone. Mallory had texted saying she was going bar hopping with some of her friends and you told her to text you if she needed anything and a heart, before checking her on Find My Friends to see she was, in fact at a bar. Then you texted your group chat with Emily and Alexis and Maya, who had asked how you were doing. You told them you were with Harry and most likely going to be here for a while, which got excited responses and Alexis sent the eggplant emoji, which made you snort. They told you to text you if you ended up staying the night so they could keep track of where you were, which you agree to do.

When you went to wash your hands, you rolled your eyes because of course they couldn’t even buy hand soap. You went to the shower and found a bottle of body wash, and squirted some into your hands before going back to the sink, rinsing them off. Then you looked at your face in the mirror, eyeliner and mascara still in tact, but your hair was a disaster. You pulled the bun free and let your hair tumble down your back, running through it with your fingers to calm the strands that were askew.

Standing the mirror, you had the opportunity to consider your choices. Did you want to hook up with Harry? Yes. That was a clear answer, despite your alcohol-hazed mind. Did he want to? Most likely—every indication had pointed towards yes. So your mind was made up as you pulled the door open and made your way back to his room, your phone tucked into your jeans and solo cup in your hand.

“You guys really need soap.”

He was still sitting on the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone and sipping on his drink when you came into the room. At the sight of you, he put his phone down. “I know—it’s fucking disgusting. I have my own, though. Sorry for not sharing.”

You set your cup on his dresser, deciding you were done, and moved towards him. “It’s fine. I made do.” His eyes trailed down your front, the sexual tension thick in the room. When he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, you decided fuck it you were done waiting.

You crossed the space between the two of you in second, slotting yourself between his knees. His hands found your waist immediately, his solo cup moving to rest on the table once your body was pressed to his. Without pausing, you pressed your lips to his, reconnecting them in a fire—you needed him, you wanted him, you craved his hands on your skin. Now that you were alone, it was like you couldn’t hold yourself together and neither could he. His hands moved up and down your back, tugging you into his chest as your hands curled in his long hair. Lips fought for dominance, teeth tugging and tongues pressing for more. When he licked into your mouth a wet moan left your lips and you pressed into the crotch of his pants without even meaning to.

6LACK was still flowing through the speaker, and the smooth RnB just adding to the desire rolling through your body. When his lips dropped to your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, a desperate, filthy noise fell from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile when Harry grunted into you. “I—fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing at your hips.

Suddenly your clothes were too warm, burning against your skin. You leaned back and pulled at the hem of your tank top, pulling it up over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Harry’s eyes went wide, blown out irises from alcohol and desire criss-crossing over your body. “You can touch me,” you said, confidence coursing through your veins and just desperate for him to do something.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling you back into him and attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast, right above the lace of your bra. Hot breath on your skin had you keening into him, back arching up into his mouth, your fingers tugging into his hair. You loved his hair, having something to hold onto and anchor yourself, and from the pleased hums he liked it too. His hands fumbled with your bra clasp, and when he got it free and pulled the material away, he pulled your nipple into his mouth and you audibly sighed. When he sucked on it, then laved over it with his tongue you couldn’t help but buck into him. You were putty in his arms and he had barely done anything.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, the desire to see his skin overwhelming you. He didn’t make you wait, helping you tug it over his head, and let it drop to the floor. Black ink scattered across his skin, words and images that made a million questions swirl in your mind. The G on his shoulder, the ship on his bicep, the name Jackson scrawled above a rose, the swallows across his collarbones and a butterfly on his stomach. He sat there, chest heaving as he caught his breath and your fingers brushed his skin, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Y/N,” he rasped, “bed?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with ease, and he was backing you into it immediately, hands in your hair and lips on yours. Your bare chests touching sent you into overdrive, the brush of your nipples on his warm skin, a sheen of sweat covering both of you from dancing all night.

The comforter was plush underneath your back as you scrambled up the length of his bed, his body following yours immediately. Your legs fell apart so he could fit between you, and when he did, his dick rested right against your clothed clit and it made you gasp. “Feel good?” He mumbled, the words a haze in your ears as he plucked your lips between his.

All you could do was buck up, your knees finding either side of him. You wanted to be on top, to be in control. You wanted to grind on him properly, after waiting for so long. With a hand at his chest, you pushed slightly, enough for him to move back. He must have understood what you wanted because he flopped onto the bed next to you, one hand on either of your thighs and you mounted him, your ass sitting on the top of his thighs.

When you moved your center over his dick, both of you groaned, deep and drawn out, your head thrown back in pleasure. It was bliss, after so much waiting, to finally be able to do this, his hands crawling from your thighs to your hips to hold you in place, exactly where he wanted you. You put your hands on his chest to hold yourself up, and let your hips find a sinful rhythm, one that was making pleasure curl in your stomach. Pants left your mouth, matched by Harry, who was watching you as if you were a fucking art exhibit, eyes trying to take in every inch of you. Fingernails curled into his skin, red marks that you expected to be there tomorrow, when he nudged at your clit, and you rubbed that spot a few more times, his name falling from your lips in a beg. “Harry.”

That had him moving, pulling your lips down to his so he could kiss you again, his fingers cradling the back of your head. It was just rough enough where you were scrambling to catch up and it felt good, that this was consuming every part of your brain. You rolled your hips again, your hands pressing into the pillow under his head. Then, you felt his thighs agains your ass, and he was pushing up into you, making him snugly flush against you, the only thing between you two being your clothes.

Which you wanted off, and wanted off now. You moved back, crawling between his legs, and his eyes followed you, panting as he watched you pop the button on his pants. He lifted his hips to help you and you tugged the tight skinny jeans that showed every inch of his thickness underneath them down his legs. Then, you pulled on his briefs, and he was bare in front of you, exactly as you wanted him. Your jeans were constricting your movement so you turned tot he side, pulling the denim off of your body so you were left in your underwear.

Then you were on him again, but this time, it was your hand on his dick, fingers running up the length of him.

“Fuck,” he said, voice husky in your ears. He was gorgeous underneath you, desperation making his eyebrows crease, his long hair a mess on the pillow. Why had you waited so long to act on this desire? You suddenly couldn’t remember.

He watched you spit onto his most sensitive part, and then slide your hand over him, spreading the moisture. He hissed at the feeling and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long here—he was already hard, his tip red and throbbing. The fact that you had him this turned on and you’d barely done anything made your ego soar, to be honest. You pumped him three times before licking up the underside of him, his hands curling in the comforter, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

When you took him into your mouth, a low, rough grunt filled the room and you smiled. You hollowed your cheeks and immediately took him all the way into your mouth, resisting the urge to gag when he hit the back of your throat. “Shit,” he rasped. “You—shit.”

You’d done what you were about to give him just a handful of times before, only with people who you knew you would feel pleasure from too when they did it, and trusted. And Harry fit both of those categories, because he could fucking smile and you’d want to fuck him. So you grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of your head, before taking him all the way to the back of your throat. Your mouth was full of him and it felt so good.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” His eyes were glimmering in the light, completely focused on you. You were happy you had left the lights on, because it meant you could every inch of him, every reaction you drew from him.

In response, you licked at his tip, hoping he knew that meant yes.

He seemed to, because he curled his fingers into your hair and pushed his hips up, his tip hitting your throat immediately. You groaned around his dick and he cursed at the vibrations. Then, he kept his hips on the bed and instead pulled you up and down him, fucking your mouth just as you had wanted. You couldn’t do much from this position, so you focused on inhaling through your nose and running your hands over his skin, scratching at the butterfly on his torso. Leaving reminders of this night, of you, on his body.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling you off. “I—I have to stop. But, shit, you feel so good, babe.”

The pet name made you smile, sitting back on your heels to wipe at your mouth, the taste of his salty precum still on your tongue. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, because all that you had done had left you more than ready—you needed him inside of you.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled up. “Fuck,” he exhaled, grabbing at his desk drawer and pulling it open. Watching him look through his drawers completely naked was, you had to admit, a bit amusing, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. He wrenched another drawer open, tossing the contents about as he looked. Then he sighed, and looked back at you. “I’m out.”

“Go find one,” you told him, leaning back against the wall, letting your knees drop open to show your underwear. You could feel the wet spot on them and you knew he saw it too. “I’ll wait here.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll—yeah I’ll find one.” He pulled on his jeans, not even bothering with his briefs, eyes flickering to you every once and a while. “Shit, I’ll—I’ll be back.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, pushing open his door and letting it slam shut behind him. Through the door you could hear him knocking on the door next to his, some muffled words, and then him knocking again. He was going fucking door to door looking for a condom, you realized with amusement. Then, the patter of feet on the stairs, and you knew he was going downstairs, that no one else was in their rooms.

While you waited, you grabbed your phone and scrolled through it. Caught up on texts, liked shit on Instagram, checked Snapchat even though you barely used the app. Most people were at bars, as far as you could tell, but it looked like they’d set back up pong downstairs according to Emily’s story.

All of a sudden, feet pounded on the stairs and you knew it was Harry. You pushed your phone back onto the desk, and when the door opened, he was standing there holding probably ten condoms. “How many did you get?”

He looked down at the wad in his hand and visibly blushed. “I—I thought I’d re-stock.”

You let it slide, even though you knew exactly why he got so many. He was hoping you’d have a couple rounds, and you were not opposed to the idea. “Come here,” you said, and let your legs fall back open.

He was on you in second, his pants kicked down his legs as he moved and you were surprised he didn’t trip. Hands found your skin and he pushed you up the bed, this time he was the one hovering over you, lips drawing eager mewls from you. You pressed your hips into his unclothed erection and he cursed, a grimace crossing his face that you knew was from him restraining himself. “Can I take these off?” He asked, fingers pulling at your underwear.

“Please,” you replied and that made him smile at you. He peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the ground, a forgotten memory. Then he brushed a finger over your slit and you gasped, cool touch sending waves of pleasure through you. “Need you.” The two words made his head snap up from where he was looking at your pussy, eyes connecting with yours.

“I was going to go down on you,” he said, and although the thought was tantalizing, you needed him inside of you.

You shook your head. “Later.”

Harry wasn’t complaining. He grabbed one of the condoms from his desk and ripped it open, rolling it down his dick with a concentrated gaze. Then, he crawled up your body, reconnecting your lips, and you both sighed at the feeling of his dick rolling against your center. “Okay?” He asked, pulling away just a hair to check in.

“Please,” you begged, and that had him moving immediately.

He tugged one of your legs around his waist, and then he gripped his dick, brushing his tip to your slit once, twice, three times. On the third time, though, he pressed in, and your wetness accepted him immediately, allowing him to push in about halfway before he stopped.

It burned a bit—mainly just from his size, which was bigger than most other guys you’d been with. You hands scrambled across his chest, grabbing at his skin, struggling to get your breathing under control. “You’re big,” you said, unable to stop the words that fell from your lips.

A cocky smile drifted over his face and you mentally kicked yourself for adding to his ego. “Can I move?” He asked though and you nodded. His head bobbed down, and you realized he was watching where you two were connected as he pulled back and then pushed in all the way. A choked moan left your mouth and a similar one sounded from Harry’s, although his had a string of curses attached. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped, hands adjusting so they were next to your head, his face above yours. “Fuck.”

You were about to tell him to move when he did it on his own accord, pulling out and back into you, the impact making your body shift on the comforter. There was a very real possibility of you having sore legs tomorrow, but you really didn’t give a fuck because he felt so good. “Holy shit,” you babbled, those words the only ones you could find as he thrusted in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made you both pant with pleasure.

Sounds drifted out of you without you even realizing, something that always happened when you had drunk sex. You couldn’t control yourself as much, unable to process how loud you were being, what you were saying. Looking back you couldn’t even remember exactly what you had said, but you knew it was a mess of curses and his name and God and just pants and mewls that were feeding Harry like a fucking three course meal.

He loved your sounds, used them to figure out what you liked, where to move and shift. You could tell because when you’d let out a sharp gasp he’d say, “Yeah, there? That’s the spot?” and drive in and out of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every move of his hips. Your hands were clutching at his hair as he thrusted into you, your ankles hooked around his lower back, and your body was desperate for release.

But you could also tell he was not going to last. His eyes were heavy, eyelids drawing shut with pleasure, fingers curling in the pillow next to you. Shoulders tensing and abdomen tight as he swiveled his hips, a broken moan falling between you. “Close,” he finally said, and dropped down to his elbows, so his face hovered above yours, only a hair away. “You feel so good, shit, oh my god—how do you feel so good?” His words were broken and that made them even better, that he had no control over what he was saying.

“Want you to come,” you babbled, “want to feel it, come on Harry, come for me, please, I need it.”

“Holy fuck—“ that had him snapping into you, hips slapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin overpowering the music that still played in the background. You gripped his shoulders when his head hung in the crook of your shoulder, and you knew he was about to come.

So you said one more thing. “I need you to come, Harry, please.” The words came out as a beg, exactly as you intended. His hips were stuttering immediately, curses falling between you like a broken record, repeating over and over again as he shot into the condom. He smattered kisses on your shoulder as he collapsed into you, sweat sticking to your skin.

He laid there for a second, panting, and you didn’t mind, even though you desperately needed to come. Perhaps it was how you clamped down on him, or you shifted your hips to feel slightly more of him, but Harry seemed to figure out what you needed. He lifted his head, took one look at you, and then pulled out, ripping off the condom and tossing it into his trash before crawling down your legs.

When his tongue licked your slit, you mewled his name, your hands moving into his hair immediately. You tugged and pulled on it as he licked over you, drawing circles that pulled desire from your flesh. And then he went inside, darting his deftly skilled tongue into you and practically thrusting it into you. His thumb brushed across your nub and you let our a shuddering moan, bucking up into his face. You were close—insanely close—the combination of his tongue inside of you and the thumb on your nub drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” you rasped, voice broken from panting. “I’m close.”

He seemed double his effort, tongue moving in and out of you at double time, his thumb brushing a brutal pace over you. You were twisting in his arms, hips bucking, curses leaving your lips. And when he pulled his thumb away and sucked on your clit, that’s when you came, in a mess of his name and broken gasps, choking on air. Your fingers curled tightly in his hair, anchoring his face to your center as you came, bucking up into him. He didn’t mind though, he just held your hips and took it, licking at you to draw out all of your aftershocks. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind was a mess, swirling without the ability to grasp onto a single thread of thought, just a mess under his lips.

When you finally regained the ability to breathe, you pulled your hands from his hair and he sat up. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, gathering your juice, and swallowed them, a smile on his face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

He gave you a cocky expression and then flopped down next to you. “They have, in fact.”

“Good. I’d be concerned about the other girls if they hadn’t.”

He laughed, and then pulled you into his body. You were surprised at his desire to cuddle, but you weren’t mad. “You can stay if you want. There’s people downstairs still and it’s cold out.”

You propped your head up on his shoulder. “There’s also all those condoms.”

“That’s true. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

You trailed your fingers up his torso. “Might have to just stay the whole weekend if we’re trying to use them all.”

His eyebrows quirked, but he wasn’t mad at the prospect. “Wanna be my study break for the weekend?”

You smirked, leaning up to quickly peck his lips. “As long as you’re mine.”

He hauled your body on top of his and curled his fingers into your hair. “We’ll get your shit in the morning, then.”

“It’s a deal.” You kissed him, lips slotting against one another, slower and less hurried than before, but that same undercurrent of desire stringing between you two. You were already grinding into him, hips brushing over his as you moved.

Suddenly, a pounding sound came from the door, and you froze. “Fuck off!” Harry called, pulling the comforter that had ended up at the bottom of the bed over the two of you.

“Fuck—sorry—I need a condom, man.” The words were muffled, but you heard them all the same.

Harry snorted, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ask Nick,” he replied, “and leave me the fuck alone.” His hands grabbed at you, kneading into your ass, and you licked at his nipple.

It was going to be a long weekend.

SEND ME CONCEPTS ABOUT Y/N AND HARRY!

#frat boy harry #frat boy au #frat boy fan fiction #Harry Styles #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing

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poppys-writing · 3 years

Text

a continuation of this drabble, and this time with our Hero!! Caretaker will be in the next ;)

Hero woke to a start in a poorly lit, cheap motel. Scanning the room with their eyes, they found Sidekick passed out on the sofa beside them, the bed all to themself. Sidekick’s got to stop doing that they, deserve rest too, Hero reminded themself. They tried to sit up to go wake Sidekick and switch spots, but were met with immediate and flaring pain - resulting in a loud cry and an exasperated fall back on to the pillows.

Sidekick immediately stirred, jumping from their cramped nap on the cheap sofa to Hero’s side. “Relax, relax!” Sidekick eased, watching Hero’s pained and stressed expression as it broke their heart. “Don’t try to sit up. Don’t know if you remember, but you took one hell of a fall.”

A fall? What were they falling from in the first place? Guess that means I don’t remember it. “Gimme the rundown of what happened, and quick. We gotta get home, I bet Caretaker’s worried sick about me.”

Sidekick opened their mouth for a moment, closed it and thought of how to begin, then sat on the beside to describe the tale of horrible events. “For starters, we were ambushed. Tipped off about Villain’s scheme to blow the base of the Centennial Tower while the Chancellor hosted a party of ambassador and world leaders. Y’know, the important type. Anywho, as I said, run-of-the-mill ambush. Right? Wrong! They had some cyber techno-shit beyond the usual, I’m talking 3D projections and all, it was actually quite impressive if ya ask me-”

“Sidekick. Focus.” Hero snapped back at them. Sidekick gave a sheepish grin in return, then continued on.

“Sorry boss, you know how I get about that stuff, but anywho. You got the civilians out, I dealt with the techno-shit ‘cause that’s my usual business, but things got screwy and we ended up backed in a corner by one of the bots. It had targeted me, but you tackled it instead, and went tumbling through the glass and through the penthouse. Don’t know how you landed exactly, but it’s a miracle you’ve been able to regenerate so far. Obviously took a beating to the head, with all that crusty dried blood, but nothing that a couple days won’t fix.”

Hero expected much worse. They wiggled their fingers and toes to make sure all was healing right - and yep, except for the usual pain and slight tingly numbness that comes from the typical severe head trauma, all was functioning. So what’s the catch? Usually waking up in a motel instead of their cozy bed with Caretaker bedside them and the pets in-between means things went more south than usual on a botched mission. “That it, Sidekick?”

“Well, there’s one more thing...we were getting ambushed because Villain was busy raiding the base.” Sidekick quickly explained, a telltale sign that they’re growing more nervous.

“Well, that’s not necessarily a bad thing, right?” Hero asked, and Sidekick nodded. Before they could answer, Hero continued on. “Villain’s gotten in before, but it’s not like there’s jackshit he can find. You need a biochip to access confidential information, and unless that stupid fucking--”

The look on Sidekick’s face answered Hero’s question for them.

“You’re fucking with me. That fucking asshole! I knew we couldn't trust the biotech suit. He gave away your chip info, didn't he Sidekick?” Hero hoped the answer would be yes, because if it was anyone higher than Sidekick’s chip info...

Another sad pause, and Hero’s heart dropped with Sidekick’s words. “No...yours.”

Hero impulsively grabbed the pillow beside them and chucked it at the wall. At least pillows thrown with abnormal strength can’t break through walls. “Fuck,” Hero muttered under his breath. “Do you know what he did? What he saw?” Please say it was nothing important. Please, say the system locked him out or someone miraculously came in early for work and stopped him. Please, please, please.

“Also no,” Sidekick unfortunately answered. “The first thing he did was lock me out of the system,” Hero’s mouth opened to fire another range of rapid-fire questions Sidekick wouldn’t be able to answer, so Sidekick just continued their thought and anticipated some of Hero’s worries. “I did everything I could without being in the system anymore. I let staff know their information could potentially be compromised and advised them to lay low. Heat sigs from perimeter cams I had wired outside the system indicated that they left shortly after arrival, which is somewhat good news for us. I called my S/O and told her to go to the safe house and she called Caretaker too, but-”

For a shit situation, that’s about the best outcome they could hope for. “Oh,” Hero shrugged, shoulders relaxing as they snuggled back into the cheap pillow. “That’s fine! We’re fine! It’s all fine! We’ll just go to the safe-house, meet up with your S/O and Caretaker, and then go from there! Right?” Please say yes. Universe, please let this be simple.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Sidekick spoke slowly, making deliberate eye contact with Hero, who was lit up with false optimism. “Caretaker didn’t show up.”

Hero was immediately taken aback, their neutral look quickly shifting to an astonished glare. “What do you mean? There’s no way! Me and Caretaker talked about Code Green, they know what to do. You--”

A dull buzz from the phone next to them. Unknown number? Please be Caretaker, please be Caretaker. Hero reached for it, but Sidekick’s hand grabbed it before they could.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Hero immediately shot at Sidekick, grabbing the phone from Sidekick with ease even in a weakened state. Sidekick didn’t try to fight them, but looked on with pleading eyes.

“Hero, you don’t know who’s on the other end. Best to play it safe and let it ring, you don't want to jeopardize-”

“I’m not jeopardizing shit other than Caretaker’s safety if I don’t pick this up.” Hero flipped Sidekick the bird, then defiantly slammed the accept call button. Holding it up to their ear, they withheld speaking until they got anything from the other end.

A moment of silence. Hero waited, prayed to hear the sweet and familiar voice of Caretaker. Just for them to say “don’t worry, I’m alright,” so then this horrible feeling of dread and pressure can be lifted from their chest. Please, please, be Caretaker. I need this to be Caretaker.

“Hello, handsome,” The sing-song voice of Villain greeted from the other end. Hero's eyes immediately shot to Sidekick’s, which were just as wide as his. “Heard you had a bit too much fun at a party last night.”

Taking a level breath, Hero tried to calm themself. Who knows what advantage Villain has on them right now? Best not to tempt any unwise actions at the moment. “What do you want, Villain? You know you’re a real pain in the ass, right? Now I’ve got to come over there, kick your ass, and get a new security system.”

A long, long chuckle from the other end made Hero’s spine chill. Even calling is just...so unlike Villain. And the tone in their voice? It’s more proud and boastful than usual, as if wanting Hero to try and tease a little surprise out of them. “I don’t want anything, Hero, because I’ve already got all that I want right here.”

“Enlighten me.” Hero quipped back at them, rolling their eyes to Sidekick with their signature smirk. It can’t be that bad, since the biochip only unlocks access to baseline confidential information: more than likely, not much that Villain couldn’t guess themself, aside from...

The ID code linked to the biochip. It’s not synced to their Hero identity, but to their real identity. All he’d have to do is log into the system once, and....oh fuck.

Another sick, long laugh on the other end of the phone. “I was trying to toy with you, but I just can’t help myself Hero! Darling, why don’t you come over here and say hello?”

Hero could feel the pit in his stomach fill with every negative emotion, but mostly guilt. Guilt and rage. No. Please, no, not this. Not--

The sound of a struggle on the other side of the phone, Hero listening intently and hoping for the first time ever that he doesn’t hear Caretaker’s voice, until--

“Hero!” Caretaker cried out in-between shaky, raspy, exhausted breaths. “I’m not worth it, not worth the risk - please, please, just promise me you’ll-”

Even though Hero didn’t want to hear Caretaker’s voice, they were holding on to every last word, every last syllable and sound like it would be the last time they heard them. They could feel the pain that they heard in Caretaker’s voice, holding back a cry of their own as they heard Villain toss Caretaker away. More struggling, then the return of Villain.

Hero didn’t hold back. “You sick fuck!” Hero screamed into the phone. “They aren’t involved in this! Let’s settle this, you and me! If you want to save your life, you’d be smart to tell me where the fuck I can get them now, or else--”

“Not so fast!” Villain cut them off, “for the first time since we started this little feud that’s now turned into a full-blown war, the cards played out in my favor!” they joyously exclaimed. “And you, my dear Hero? Why, you’re just going to have to watch this game play out, because any harm that befalls me will be dealt back to Caretaker. Oh, how much fun me and your sweetheart are going to have! Speaking of which, I must get going - Caretaker and I have so much catching up to do!”

The dull, dead line didn’t last long, because Hero promptly threw it into the wall. Glass shattered, but so did Hero’s composure.

Whatever it takes, Hero told themself, I’ll get Caretaker back. Whatever it takes.

[[ tagging people who expressed interest in a continuation! @silverwhisperer1 @whatwasmyprevioususername

if you don’t want me to tag you in the next part, please let me know! ]]

#hero whump #villain whumper #hero/villain #caretaker whump #hostage #captivity whump #creepy whumper #I love this a lot actually #I'll keep it going if any of y'all want me to #villain whump #hero #villain

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notyetneedcoffee · 4 years

Text

Date Nights 3

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut

New Naughty Series

“It’s your turn,” You grinned.

Steve cracked open a fresh beer. “You sure you don’t want to just hang out around here?”

“Just pick.” You nudged him. “We don’t have to take all night.”

He leaned closer, covering your mouth with a tender kiss. “Okay, Sweetheart.” Steve reached into the jar and pulled out a little rolled up note. Opening it up, he read it aloud. “Do something together that you usually do alone.”

His eyebrow rose, mischievously.

Completely deadpan you stole his beer from his hand and took a swallow. “Jacking you off does not constitute a date.”

Steve laughed, head thrown back. “Okay, okay.” He drew in a deep breath. “Maybe later, though.”

“Oh, definitely later.” You smiled.

He looked thoughtfully at you, mind racing. The corner of his mouth tipped up and his blue eyes searching your face. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “Got it!” He stood up, taking his beer away from you. “But no booze for you.”

“Hey!”

“Nope,” He finished the beer in one pull. “Now, go put your shoes on. You’ll be good in jeans and that sweater.”

“Where are we going?”

“The range.”

“Okay.” You said slowly, pulling your shoes on.

Steve took your hand and let you to the firing range in the basement of the Compound. You’d never been there before. The outer chamber was nothing short of an arsenal. All kinds of weapons hung from racks, ammunition stacked on shelves, and only people with proper clearance could open the cases. In the middle of the room, a table held tools and supplies for cleaning.

At the moment, both Bucky and Clint sat at the table with parts of weaponry laid out before them. Tony sat on a countertop, fiddling with a setting on his left gauntlet. Steve nodded a greeting. “Guys.”

“Hey, what are you two up to?” Bucky leaned back in his chair.

“We’re going to do some shooting.” Steve opened a cabinet pulling out Sig Sauer P320. “Sweetheart, have you ever owned a gun?”

Before you could answer, Tony barked a laugh. “You kidding? She was raised by peace-loving Haight Ashbury hippies. Didn’t you live in a commune for a while?”

“Hippies? Seriously?” Bucky chuckled.

“Doesn’t your mom run a dispensary now?” Tony pointed his tool at you.

“You mother sells weed?!” Clint howled.

“For medicinal purposes.” Steve grumbled.

“Among other things.” You grinned, throwing Clint a wink.

Bucky laughed heartily at the uncomfortable look on Steve’s face. “Why start her with something so boring, pal?” He finished the assembly and held out his M249. “Let her play with a real gun.”

Before you could say a word, the two men flanked you at one of the lanes. Both went over the safe handling of the handgun and the machine gun. You listened, intently, a small smile on your face. Finally, they stopped.

Steve handed you safety glasses and ear protection, “Did you get all that? Any questions?”

“I’m good.” You donned the safety gear.

Before either could respond, you picked up the Sig, popped in the mag, and fired once, paused for a heartbeat to check your sight, and fired nine more in quick secession in a tight little cluster at the center of the target.

“What the -” Steve breathed.

You cleared the Sig and ejected the magazine. Picking up the M249, you flicked off the safety and squeezed off a few shots. Smiling, you changed aim to the head of the target and blew a hole the size of a baseball in it. You lowered the light weight machine gun, pulling off the ear guards. “Nice.”

Bucky laughed.

“You said you did know how to shoot.” Steve looked at you with an odd mix of confusion and arousal on his face.

“No. You assumed. Just because I’ve never owned a gun doesn’t mean I don’t know how to fire one.” You smirked.

Bucky must have recognized the look on his best friend’s face, because he ducked out of the room without a word.

Steve leaned close to you, hot breath tickling the skin of your ear. “That was really sexy.”

“Oh?” You purred. Taking off the glasses and running your nose along his jaw.

“Mm-hmm.” His hand slid over your hip, dipping lower to the warmth between your legs. “Took me by surprise.” He placed open mouth kisses on the side of your neck. “I’ve seen you be sweet, seen you outsmart the room, seen you be funny and charming, but fuck...” he growled out the word. “The badass look is sexy as hell on you.”

His teeth nipped your ear as he pulled your ass tight against the hard evidence of his arousal. You gave a little moan. “You got a thing for girls with guns?”

He chuckled low. “Got a thing for you. You keep surprising me.” One hand cupped your breast as he pulled you against his rutting hip with the other. “I love it.”

“We, oh damn,” a shiver ran down your body. “We better cool it or get someplace private, ‘cause I don’t think bending me over right here is such a good idea.”

Steve groaned, freezing. “You’re right.” He took a deep breath before standing up straight. “Okay. Yeah.” Steve picked up the weapons and headed to the exit. Peeking out he breathed a ‘thank god’ before pushing the door open. Clint, Tony and Bucky were gone.

He quickly stowed the weapons, knowing they should be cleaned before being put away. The raging erection in pants demanded other action, though. You watched his quick work with a grin. As soon as he slammed the last cabinet closed, Steve swept you up in his arms and kissed you hard.

“Let’s go.” He murmured against your lips.

“Yes, sir.” You quirked an eyebrow at him.

A low growl escaped his chest and he practically carried you out of the range. Thankfully, you didn’t pass anyone on the way to his quarters. Steve kept pulling you close, kissing you, lifting you against him. As soon as his door closed, he buried his hands in your hair. “Say that one more time.”

“What?” You smiled against his lips. “Yes, sir?”

His eyes fell closed, and his grip tightened. Oh, that was new. Your voice dropped to a husky purr. “What can I do for you, sir?”

Steve’s eyes opened, studying you. His thumb traced your lower lip and you took it in your mouth, sucking and rolling your tongue around his digit. His eyes darkened. “You can get on your knees and suck my cock, like I know you want to.”

His words sent a flood to your core. Hell, yes.

You lowered to your knees, keeping eye contact with him as your hands ran over his chest and abs, down his thighs. You moved all the way to his feet, removing his shoes and socks. Rising up, you unbuckled his belt. Steve’s hands clenched at his side. You unfastened his jeans, breathing hot air over his cock before touching him. You took him hand, licking up the length of him, stroking.

When you finally took him in your mouth, he moaned. His hands combed through your hair, pulling it away from your face so he could see. You pushed him to the back of your throat, swallowing against him. He growled jerking into you, pushing you to limit of your reflex. Your hand grabbed his ass.

Steve bit back moans, watching your head bob, fighting the urge to fuck your mouth harder. Finally, he pulled you up, crushing your mouth with a brutal kiss. He held himself back, eyes closing. “What do you want, Sweetheart?”

You nipped his bottom lip. “Fuck me hard, sir.”

“Hell, yes.” He groaned. Picking you off the ground so your legs came around his waist, he marched to the bed. He threw you on the bed. You were pulling off your sweater before you stopped bouncing. Steve yanked off your shoes. Clothes were thrown in every direction.

Steve manhandled you until you were naked, on all fours, ass facing him. His large hands ran over the cheeks of your ass, pulling them apart, fingers sweeping over your wet cunt. “So, sweet.”

“Steve,” you whined.

You felt the sharp crack of his hand on your ass. “What?”

Gasping, you corrected. “Sir.”

“God, look at that.” He smacked you again. You jumped. Pain. Pleasure. You felt yourself dripping. “You like that, don’t you?”

A moan escaped your throat.

Steve slipped two fingers in, rubbing against your wall, roughly stroking the spot he knew so well. With a cry you dropped to your elbows. “Tell me. Say it, Sweetheart.” His other hand spanked you. “You like that.” Again, and you cried out. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, sir!”

He fucked you with his fingers, hard and rough. His other hand coming around to tease your clit, slick with your own juiced. “Do you want to come for me, Sweetheart? Are you ready to squirt all over me?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Not yet.” He was suddenly gone. You let out a something between a whine and a scream. Steve flipped you over, pushing your knee to your chest. He entered you in one deep thrust.

“Fuck!” You clutched at the bed covers. He held your crossed ankles in one large hand. Resting on his knees, he pulled out almost all the way before sliding in again. His hard cock pressing against your g spot the whole time. Your eyes locked closed.

“Look at me!” His hand slapped you ass. Your eyes popped open, panting. Steve thrust into you harder, faster. “Fuck, you feel good.”

“Yes, sir.” You reached for his hip, his shoulder, anywhere you could touch. “Harder, please, sir!”

Steve let go of your ankles, fingers digging into your hips. Skin slapped on skin. “Yes!”

Heat flooded through your body. Toes tingled. Thighs quivered. Tension coiled in your core. “I’m gonna... oh god...”

Steve leaned back, angling to fuck up at just the right angle. He watched, open mouthed, as his cock slammed into your wet cunt. You writhed, but he held you tight. You cried out, coming hard, flooding over his cock, soaking the duvet. He lost it.

With a growl, he slammed into you hard, fast, stealing your breath. Unable to come down from the first orgasm, he pushed you over the edge a second time. Your whole body shook, mind whited out. You screamed. Steve growled as your cunt clutched at him, milking every bit of hot come from him until he collapsed over your sweaty, still shaking body.

His soft lips roamed over your neck. “You okay, Love?”

“Mmm.” You panted. “I can’t feel my feet.”

He chuckled, and you felt it down the length of your body, including where he remained buried in you. “That was,” he sighed. “intense.”

“Yeah.” You nuzzled him, unable to move anything else.

Steve pushed off you and lay at your side. “Bed, or bath?” His fingers traced over your sweat soaked chest.

“Coma.” Your eyes closed.

He kissed you lightly. “That good, huh?”

“Mm-hmm, yessir.” You smiled lazily.

Steve got up and you whined at his absence. “Just going to run the bath, Sweetheart. Don’t worry if you doze off, I’ll take care of you.”

“You’re so good to me.”

He came back, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “That’s my line.”

You rested, drifting in a wonderful haze. Date nights were a really good idea.

TAGS

@rainbowkisses31 / @dsakita / @geeksareunique / @lbouvet / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @theneuropsychwriter / @vanillabunn21 / @sammghgecko / @beautifullungs / @badassbaker / @the-omni-princess / @sebbysstangirl / @jesseswartzwelder / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @the-reading-octopus / @bangtan-serendipity / @kiki5283 / @mindtravelsx / @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines / @patzammit / @thegetawaywriter / @vxidnik / @jennmurawski13 / @wildmoonflower / @rynabarnesrogers / @notyourtypicalrose / @sllooney / @wwe-fanfiction-queen / @thorfanficwriter / @scarlettsoldier / @morganhoran1671 / @michelehansel / @sexyvixen7 / @readermia / @buchanansebba / @what-is-your-plan-today / @imma-new-soul / @asiaaisa77 / @babygurl8840 / @acf2510 / @firefly-in-darkness

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fan fiction #steve rogers

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite)

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite) CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 13/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in. Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name. Also on AO3 here

Loki nodded to the guards to open the doors and the pair headed into the throne room together. Sig’s hand remained lightly on Loki’s arm as they strode up to the throne. Her back was straight and she walked tall and proud. Or as tall as her short stature could manage. She knew she was dreadfully short in comparison to the proper Asgardians. It was a side effect of the experiments.

Odin was on his throne as expected, Frigga at his side, and Thor on his place on one of the stairs just below them. Seeing the oaf there was reassuring to both Sig and Loki.

/I must take my place on the stairs as well. I won’t be far if you need me/ Loki warned Sig as they neared the stairs. He stopped at the place she was to wait and bowed over her hand to kiss her knuckles before he headed up the stairs to take his place on the other side of the throne from Thor.

/Of course you do/ she grumbled, but didn’t let her grumbling show on her face. Instead, when he was in place, she dipped a well-practiced and graceful curtsy to the Allfather. The meeting thankfully went as well as Frigga promised. Odin welcomed her back to Asgard, promised she would always have a home there as a duchess of the court, and congratulated her and Loki on the soulbond. He actually sounded… proud… of his younger son, which confused both Sig and Loki.

Thankfully it was over quickly and Sig was dismissed. She took Loki’s arm again and he escorted her from the room as fast as was seemly. Sig sighed in relief when she was safely out from under the Allfather’s eye and moved to wrap her arms around Loki’s arm instead of her hand on his arm in formal escort, she was nearly hugging his arm in a much more familiar gesture. “Told you it wouldn’t be so bad,” Loki told her warmly, not seeming to mind that she was cuddling his arm.

“It still wasn’t fun,” she whined.

He chuckled. “I know. Meeting with the Allfather is never fun,”

“Hopefully I won’t have to do that again for a long while,”

Sigyn yelped and shrieked as an arm wrapped around her waist and she found herself over a certain oaf’s shoulder.

Loki snarled. “Brother, put her down or I will stab you again!” Loki growled, daggers appearing in his hands as he whirled to face his brother.

“Put me down or I’ll stab you myself!” Sig growled too, blades as long as her arm already in her hands.

Loki smirked. “You best listen to the lady. You do not want that dagger in you, Brother,” he teased, impressed with Sig’s weapons.

Thor sighed and set her on her feet. He did a double-take at the blades in her hands as they were larger than the ones he usually got threatened with. “You have not come to see our friends, since you’ve been home, Loki,” Thor chided his brother, getting back to his original reason for bothering the pair.

Loki rolled his eyes. “They are your friends, brother, not mine,” he replied sourly.

“They consider you a friend for all that you pretend to dislike them,” Thor replied in his usual guilt-tripping way when it came to the morons three. “Come say hello and we’ll leave you be. They have not even gotten to see for themselves that our little Sigyn has returned and they were friends with her as well when we were children,”

Loki sighed heavily, hating when his brother pulled a guilt-trip on him. “Fine, but only for a little while,” he finally relented.

Sig vanished her blades with a sigh and took Loki’s arm again. Her expression quickly turned to a smirk when she came up with a plan. /How quickly would we like to get away from the morons?/ she asked Loki as they headed for the morons’ lair.

/As quick as possible. They are the last people I wish to spend time with because all they do is tease me and try to get me drunk./

/I have a trick up my sleeve/ she promised. /Ten minutes tops and we’ll be out of there/ she saw his smirk and he seemed relieved that she might get out of there quickly.

She could also see that Thor was suspicious at the lack of fighting on the part of his anti-social brother or his lady, the shy fae. He led them happily to the morons’ lair all the same and there were cheers from the already half-drunk men. Lady Sif raised her mug in greeting, but she was reasonable unlike the moron boys.

Sig’s hand tightened on Loki’s arm out of nerves at the loud men, but she put on a bright smile for them and greeted them like old friends, though she didn’t like them any more than Loki did.

She pulled a bottle of a light white wine from her dimensional pocket. “A gift for you to enjoy,” she told the warrior boys and began pouring out glasses for them and one for herself, as if to prove that it was safe.

/Whatever you do, don’t drink this. At least not right now/ she warned Loki, though unnecessarily. He wasn’t stupid, unlike the moron boys. Sig drank hers and the morons downed theirs as well. A minute later the boys were in stupors, drunk off of magic fairy wine. Sig giggled and vanished the bottle.

“Morons,” she teased the drunk things.

Loki laughed. “What did you give them, darling?”

“Fae wine,” she explained with a smirk. “It has magic in it, and drinking only a small glass does that,” she gestured at the dazed boys who were seeing magic and drunk off of it, batting at the colors they were seeing that the others were not. “Which is dangerous were I less honorable, but I’m benevolent and will let the morons just sleep off their stupidity,“

“I will try to not get on your bad side. That looks not very enjoyable,” Loki commented.

“You wouldn’t be dumb enough to drink something a fae gives you without asking what it is first. Don’t worry, they’re enjoying themselves so even Thor can’t get mad at me for it,” the boys were giggling while they were high off of magic. Thor was indeed spluttering protests about what she had done to his friends while Sif was laughing her ass off. Loki was too, loving how ridiculous all of the morons looked. “Told you, ten minutes tops,” Sig told Loki with a smirk.

He offered her a bright smile. “Let’s get out of here, then, shall we?”

“Hey! Put them back!” Thor protested as Sig took Loki’s arm.

She completely ignored Thor as she walked out of the room, leaving the poor morons batting at colors and shapes that no one else could see. Sig and Loki were both laughing at the morons and at Thor’s indignant protests. Loki looked relieved to not have to deal with the morons.

“See? It’s useful to be on my good side,” Sig told Loki warmly as they wandered away from the morons’ lair.

“I can see that. I’m glad to have you back, old friend,”

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to be back with you, with my best friend,”

At both of their words, the soulbond marks on her arms lit up, shimmering with power.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #soulbonds and fairy dust #rewrite #chapter 13 #nekoamamori

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singulari-taee · 4 years

Text

The Danger in Duality | 08

BTS X Reader

CW: Graphic depictions of violence and sexually explicit content

“You and your seven squad members must take on the struggles of being world-class assassins while also living as full-time college students.”

__________________________________________________

“Well, that was depressing,” Hoseok said after the call dropped.

Defeat washed over the room.

“What are the chances?” Namjoon asked. His fingers clasped in front of his face, expression etched in deep thought, “20 miles? That’s nothing.”

“Didn’t Squad 8 have something similar happen to them a few years ago, but with a different group?” Taehyung asked.

“Yeah but it was just a small rivalry, and Squad 8 handled it in a couple weeks. Anti or whoever keeps targeting The Academy’s squads...and they’re so close,” he said, “The Academy is the biggest organization of it’s kind in the world, so my guess is that Anti set up camp so close to make some sort of territory war.”

“But why do we have to be the ones caught in the middle?” Jimin said.

“Right, we literally could have been stationed anywhere,” you huffed.

“Well, since we’re the best squad, and Grandpa kind of prioritises us, he wanted us closer to home...like regional guards I guess,” Taehyung said.

“So essentially...nepotism came back to bite us in the ass,” you said.

“It wasn’t nepotism!” Namjoon began to fight, but he shared a look with Taehyung and didn’t continue.

“Well then why not start by targeting us if we’re the closest?” Hoseok asked.

“Maybe they were using the other squads as practice before they got to us,” Namjoon shrugged, “or maybe it was just a warning.”

Silence.

“I can’t do this right now,” Seokjin sighed, carding a hand through his hair as he walked to his room, “The mission is tomorrow and I gotta prepare.”

“Hey! Are you still watching the game with us tonight?” Hoseok called after him.

“Maybe,” he shut the door behind him.

“I’m gonna head out too,” you said.

“Woah, I thought you wanted to watch it!” Hoseok whined.

“Sorry, Seokjin’s right though. I need to prepare for tomorrow and I still have a shit ton of homework.”

“I’ll pass too,” Jungkook said as he and Taehyung followed you to the door.

“Oh not you too!” Hoseok threw his arms up.

“You know I don’t even like basketball,” Jungkook said, “Damn, Seokjin still has my calculator.”

Jungkook jogged to the oldest’s room and flung open the door.

Seokjin stood in nothing but boxers in the middle of the room. He was quick to cover himself as he let the profanity fly.

“Fuck are you doing?! Ever heard of knocking, you little shit?! Get out!”

He pushed Jungkook to the door, but the youngest pushed back effortlessly as he made his way to the calculator on the desk.

“Oops. Forgot this.” he said, “And you know how it works. If you really didn’t want anyone to come in, you would have locked it.”

“That’s not how this works! It’s my room!”

“What are you doing anyway?”

“Changing- you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Move!” he shoved the youngest out of the room and locked the door.

“Yeah, so...I’m gonna go,” you said. You spared a glance back at Yoongi, who’s eyes followed you as you walked out of the apartment.

Jungkook and Taehyung were close behind. The sun had almost fully set, and it stretched over the horizon in a spray of oranges and reds. You neared the fork in the road, an indication to go your separate ways.

“Hey,” Jungkook said, “When the hell can I get that SIG-Sauer P228 off your hands?”

You scoffed, “I still can’t believe it's not too basic for you. That’s, like, a 3rd week of training level pistol.”

“No, what? Shut up! What do you even know?”

“I know that it’s basic.”

“Basic?! You’ve got the special limited holiday edition! It’s got the gold two-tone finish and the indented grip. Oh fuck and the light-weight. Ugh-,” he shook his head as he looked up at the sky, smiling. “And you promised!”

“You know he’s not gonna let it go now,” Taehyung warned.

“Okay, whatever fine, just come by and get it.”

Jungkook turned and you stuck your hand out, “What?”

“Woah, not right now.”

“Not now?! Then when?!” his arms flapped at his side, making him look like a tantrum-throwing child.

You shrugged and walked on, “Not now.”

He called after you, each word followed by a curse. It was true, you had promised that you would give him the gun soon. You rarely used it and when you told him you had it collecting dust in the back of your closet he all but ripped your head off, going on about how you didn’t respect the craft and how he’d save it from the likes of you (whatever the hell that meant). There was just no way you could deal with the company now, and the sooner you were back to your room the better.

As you neared your apartment, you saw a familiar car in the parking lot. The warning was all you needed to mentally prepare yourself for your roommate.

Turning your key in the lock, you pushed inside. Luna sat on the sofa, focused on her laptop.

“Hey!” she chirped, “How was your day?”

“Hey,” you nodded, “Okay, just stressful as usual.”

“Aww I’m sorry to hear that. Wanna come study with me?” she asked, patting the spot next to her.

You looked down the hall. The sanctuary of your room was just so close.

“Ah, damn. I’m just really tired, I don’t think I can focus right now.”

“Oh...I see,” she said in a low voice. The disappointment was clear, “It’s just that we never really see each other or hang out. We live together but I don’t really feel like I know you.”

And you never really will, you thought.

“I know,” you played with your fingers, “Tonight's just not good for me. But we can hang out soon. I promise. I’ll...try and make time for it.”

“Really? Okay! Sounds good,” she smiled, “Oh, and I already made dinner, there’s some left on the stove if you get hungry.”

With a thanks you went to your room, shut the door, and threw yourself on the bed. The blank ceiling didn’t help to clear your mind, just made it easier for your thoughts to race out of control.

It was all just so much.

Being hunted.

Being on top of the food chain, you never knew what it was like to be the prey. There was nothing good about feeling so exposed, especially when their den was supposedly 20 or so miles away. Why did it have to be so close? You couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched even within the confines of your mind and home. The news was messing with you.

Tomorrow’s mission.

It would be easy, but you hadn’t been on a unit mission in a while, and there was always more pressure when the whole squad wasn’t present. It would only be three of you, and only two would even enter the scene at all. Shouldn’t they have mixed up the skill-set and gotten someone else other than him? Hoseok would have been great on a stealth mission like this. And why did it have to be Yoongi of all people?

Yoongi.

The confusion you felt throughout the day came rushing back again. You couldn’t understand the reason behind his thought process. He was always so hard to read and today was no different. He never seemed like the casual ‘come over and let’s just chill’ type. He always needed his space, and given your past relationship you were always more than willing to give that to him. But with your new arrangements, having him want to see you beyond lust muddied the waters. Yes, you were friends. As strange as you liked to show it, you had been so for years. But never had you made an effort to spend time alone unless it was for work. Something about it felt wrong- even more so than the hookups. It felt like a new boundary was being crossed, one that was even scarier than the first.

But god how you wanted him.

He looked oddly beautiful watching the film earlier. Seeing him in gruesome violence for years, the delicate nature of the scene was enough to take you aback. There was just something about his gentleness....

You caught yourself. The corners of your lips shifted up without approval and you wiped it clean.

No. He only wanted this because you’re the only option. It was a safe investment- not because he felt anything else. And neither did you. Nope. You couldn’t. It was against the rules.

You slapped your hand against the bed, and pushed yourself towards the bathroom for a shower. As the water ran, you stripped down in front of the mirror. Your naked body was littered with nearly invisible scratches and bruises- the norm considering your routine. You couldn’t recall the last time you saw your skin clear of any marks.

Your phone buzzed against the counter top, a sign of a text message.

Picking it up, you noticed the speed of your heart change.

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

Yoongi: You get home okay?

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

You rolled your eyes. As if you couldn’t handle making your way home “okay”.

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

You: No

Yoongi: ???

You: Some guys told me they’d give me candy if I got in their van so 💁

idk where we’re goin tho.

just cruisin rn.

Yoongi: Stop

You: Lmaooo take a joke

Yoongi: Today was fun

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

The butterflies fluttered in your stomach a bit.

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

You: Yeah great movie choice btw

Yoongi:🙄 wyd rn?

You: About to get in the shower

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

You waited for his response, but after a minute you sat the phone back down and walked towards the tub. You heard another buzz and doubled back to check.

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

Yoongi: Send me a picture

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

You stared at your screen, rereading the words to make sure you weren’t mistaken.

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

You: Of…?

Yoongi: You dumbass

Before your shower

You: so nudes

Yoongi: Yeah

I wanna see you…

But you don’t have to

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

You mulled over an answer. There was something about the idea of teasing him from afar that made your stomach knot with desire. You crossed your legs tighter. He had all day during the movie to “see you”. Why choose when you’re back home and unable to touch you to ask?

You positioned yourself in front of the mirror, trying to find the best angle. Sure you had taken pictures of yourself for yourself, but never with the intention of anyone else ever seeing them.

You twisted your body to see the curves in the reflection, a hand over your head for a better view of your bare chest. Though this was new, you weren’t stupid to the rules- never show your face. With the camera placed to block everything from the chin up, you heard the shutter as you posed.

Click.

You switched angles, leaning forward with your boobs pushed together.

Click.

You sat on the counter, and turned to get a view of your perched ass in the reflection.

Click.

You went back to check them, and you couldn’t help the satisfaction. These were hot. So hot you nearly turned yourself on.

Lucky bastard, you thought

After selecting the images, your finger hovered over the send button. With a deep breath, you bit the bullet and pressed it. Your anxiety wouldn’t allow you to wait for his response, so you put your phone down and hopped into the shower. You would see his reaction when you got out.

_________________

Yoongi hadn’t left his spot on the couch since you left. He spared glimpses at his phone, waiting for you to respond. Every moment that he got nothing, he cursed himself. He was being too thirsty and freaked you out. No way you would agree to this. He didn’t know what made him type out something so blatantly horny, he was embarrassed. Maybe he should apologize. Way to push his luck and make it awkward.

He was just so out of his mind after the assignment, he could barely think straight. He needed a distraction, anything to occupy his mind and not send him down the rabbit hole that was his unchecked fury. It just made no sense.

There was finally a vibration on his lap, and he carefully looked down to his notifications.

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

[3 attachments]

_______: Delete them from our messages after.

I expect you to kiss the ground I walk on after these. You’re welcome.

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

He opened the message and caught a glimpse of the pictures. He sucked in a quick breath and threw his phone down.

He looked around the room. The others weren’t paying him any mind. Yoongi slowly picked the phone back up and took in the pictures in all their glory.

His breathing went shallow as he scrolled and zoomed on the screen. They weren’t just any crude pictures- there was an art to it that made him unable to look away. The curves of your body in the faint glow of the bathroom was delicious. Your body. God, your body. The longer he stared, he found something else to marvel over. He was glad he couldn’t see your face, because the thought of a smirk on your lips was enough to make his imagination run wild. He realized his mouth was hanging open and hurried to fix it. His pants were suddenly tighter, and he shifted to hide the sudden erection that was painfully fighting for his attention.

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

Yoongi: goddamn.

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

It sounded stupid, he knew that. But was there a right way to respond to something like that? No words or emojis would suffice. He was borderline salivating.

She told him to delete them after. Right. He still had to do that.

As Yoongi’s finger floated over the button, he found the deed harder to carry out than expected. The thought of sending them to the trash to never be seen again didn’t sit right with him.

Instead he found himself saving them to his Cloud app. They would be safe there, hidden amongst his thousands of other photos and documents. You had only said to delete them from your messages to not leave a trace, so this was still technically okay. He couldn’t think about the morality of it for too long or otherwise his conscience might disagree.

He quickly deleted the pictures from your texts and closed his eyes.

“You alright over there?” Seokjin asked, “You’ve been quiet since the mission assignment. But not, like, normal quiet.”

“Yeah, just have a headache,” Yoongi lied, carefully adjusting his throbbing dick in his pants.

“Hey the game’s starting!” Hoseok called, and the boys turned their attention to the TV.

While the announcer went on the normal spiel, Yoongi’s mind couldn’t escape the photos. For minutes he fought the urge to check his phone, but the growing boner had other plans. One more peek wouldn’t hurt, he argued.

He went to his Cloud, and found the 3 images resting at the top. He clicked them one by one, eyes caressing every pixel. His dick fought even harder against his underwear, begging for his assistance.

The fever of the game came to a peak when all the boys erupted in cheers. Yoongi jumped in his seat, seeing the others yell as the players ran across the screen.

It was nearing impossible to think. Yoongi suddenly stood up from the couch. He positioned his phone before the tent in his pants as he walked out of the living room.

“Where you goin? It’s just getting good!” Jimin called.

Yoongi hurried to his bathroom and opened the pictures again. He couldn’t undo his pants fast enough, and when he finally sprang free and wrapped his fingers around his cock he let out a shuttered breath. He stroked himself as he took in the pictures and everything they had to offer. Seeing the space between your thick thighs made precum dribble to his knuckles. He wanted to take you in the shower and feel you for real. He stroked himself faster.

The way you squeezed one of your breasts in your hands caused him to hold in a moan. The final picture was his favorite. The arch of your back as it led to your ass made his heart beat violently. He envisioned the time he fucked you from the back. The view of it bouncing back on him as you were pressed against the telescope made his eyes flutter close as he felt himself unwinding. He almost missed the toilet paper as he came moments later.

Yoongi took a deep breath and looked at his reflection. He was flushed and drained. It took every ounce of energy and self-respect to fix himself and return to the living room.

“Took you long enough, you missed the best free-throw of the season,” Namjoon said through a mouthful of pizza.

Yoongi flopped back on the sofa next to Hoseok. He felt dirty, like they could all smell his shame and fresh orgasm.

“Finally a commercial. Their entire defense needs to be benched...dude, are you looking at porn while I’m sitting right here?!” Hoseok screeched.

“What-?” Out of habit, Yoongi had gone to look at his phone again. But upon unlocking it, the image of your ass covered the entire screen.

Yoongi scrambled to close the app, but his fingers couldn’t work fast enough. In his frenzy he fumbled and dropped the phone onto the cushions.

“Hey, don’t be stingy,” Hoseok said, swooping in and kicking the phone off the sofa before Yoongi could grab it. He leaped away to put distance between them, eyes going wide, “Damn. This isn’t porn. The shitty quality and angle is pointing to personal nudes.”

Yoongi leaped off the sofa and went towards Hoseok.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Jimin said. Hoseok threw the phone across the room, and he plucked it from the air over Yoongi’s head.

Jimin whistled, “Shit...now this is how you take nudes.”

“Jimin. I’m not fucking playing with you give it b-”

“Wait, there’s more!” he cackled, scrolling through the others. He didn’t even look at Yoongi as he evaded him, jumping over the sofa and coffee table. He paused, eyes going wide as he swallowed. “Goddamn. She’s fine. What did you do to deserve nudes like this? Hey, look at this.”

Jimin jumped over to where Seokjin and Namjoon were standing. The oldest shifted to get a better look and Namjoon took his glasses off.

“Sheesh…” Seokjin’s mouth felt suddenly dry, “No wonder why you weren’t watching the game!”

Namjoon licked his lips, “Who’s even sending you these?”

Yoongi stormed over, but the leader took an instinctive step back, “Don’t fucking worry about it. Namjoon, give it back.”

Namjoon looked at the photo and then back at Yoongi, forehead creased with questions. Jimin snatched the phone from his hands.

“Yoongi got a girlfwend?” he asked in a baby voice.

“Give. It. Back.”

He didn’t dare go to Jimin again, he knew he’d only pass it to Hoseok.

“I mean he didn’t say no,” Seokjin added.

“Aww, why so bashful?” Hoseok doubled over in laughter.

Yoongi stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched by his side. He was nearly shaking with anger, and he met eyes with Namjoon who was the only one not howling like an idiot.

“Jimin, chill out. Hand him the phone back. The game is back on,” Namjoon said.

“Fuck the game, this is the best thing to happen all day!”

“Give it back or I’ll hang your entrails from the ceiling fan. Every single one of you," Yoongi seethed.

“Oh, be realistic. You can’t kill all of us,” he rolled his eyes.

Yoongi reached into the drawer under the coffee table and pulled out a trailing point combat knife.

“I’ll start with you,”

Jimin squinted, “Bullshit.”

Without hesitation, he threw the blade and made it land squarely in the opposite wall. Jimin touched his ear, and then looked down at his hand to see specks of blood from where Yoongi had clipped him.

Jimin’s shoulders dropped and after a moment of consideration he tossed the phone over.

“Learn to take a joke, asshole.”

Yoongi’s cheeks burned red, and the others cleared the way as he stomped back to his room and slammed the door.

____________________

You woke up when your head hit the car window.

“Shit,” you breathed, holding the sore spot in your groggy haze.

“Could you hit any more potholes, Jin? Fuck…” Yoongi cursed, sleep coating his voice.

“Wow, finally some company,” Seokjin said, “You’re acting like I made the damn roads, stop complaining.”

The three of you had begun your journey a little over an hour ago. Trees whizzed by your windows, and metropolitan skylines were slowly replaced with endless meadows and forests.

“Just when I thought we’d seen every inch of this region,” you said, “we end up in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.”

Seokjin snorted, fiddling with the screen on his dashboard, “Heads up, we should be arriving in 5 minutes.”

You went to your weapons case and strapped a few knives and a glock to your belt. From the passenger seat, you looked in the rearview mirror back at Yoongi. His earlier words had been his only ones all day. Even when you had been picked up for the mission, he barely spared you more than a head nod. He sat in his seat, looking out the window at the passing greenery, unblinking.

You nudged Seokjin and tilted your head towards the man in the back.

Seokjin shrugged, ‘He’s been like that all day,’ he mouthed.

He didn’t look upset, but more pensive than anything. As if he was trapped in his thoughts without a way to escape.

“Alright we’re here,” Seokjin stopped the car on the side of a desolate road in the middle of the forest.

“Uh...where’s the cabin?” you asked.

“I forgot no one checks the mission coordinates anymore but me,” he sighed, “Well, this is as far as the road will let me go. My GPS is saying the cabin is about half a mile that way.”

He pointed through the thick trees at nothing,

“So you want us to...walk.”

“I know it’s not ideal, but it's not that far.”

The distance wasn’t your issue. From the look of the sky, the sun would be setting in a few minutes, and you would rather not walk through the woods in pitch blackness.

The three of you stepped out of the van. Seokjin grabbed a few drones from the trunk and after pressing some buttons, released them into the sky toward the cabin. He honestly hated the drones, but because the targets likely didn’t have a security system to be hacked, he had to survey the mission with what devices he had.

“I’ll be checking in,” he waved as you both began the hike, “You got this, piece of cake like always.”

The leaves crunched under your shoes as you walked in silence for a couple hundred meters. The darkness of night was beginning to catch up to you. You felt the animals scurry past your feet in their haste.

You turned to Yoongi, face overcasted by shadows.

“You okay?” you asked, “You’ve been quiet.”

He didn’t say anything, and you wondered if he would respond at all until he finally muttered.

“I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind,” he looked straight ahead.

“Is it classes? The mission? It should be an easy one like Seokjin and Mr. Kim said,” you pried.

“I just can’t wait for the day to be over.”

You nodded, “I understand. I was wondering why they dispatched us for this mission, you know? I know that they sometimes like to test different combinations, but having two specialized combat positions for such a small call doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“I was wondering the same thing.”

“You know The Academy though, it’s probably just some sort of test.”

“Well then that’s pretty fucked up.”

You waited on him to elaborate, but the conversation drifted to another hush.

“Well...if you ever want to talk about it, just know I’m here if you feel like sharing.”

“‘kay.”

After a few minutes of painful silence, you both saw a light in the distance. You slowed down, taking in the neglected cabin. The wood was covered in moss, hanging together by a few bolts. It appeared to have been forgotten amongst the woods. You couldn’t imagine life inside.

“She’s a beauty, right?” you said, hidden in the shadows behind the trees, “Jin, we made it.”

“Great. I can see you both. Look up,” you glanced up at the night sky, and a drone came to hover over your heads.

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, “So there’s three we need to take out. You sure they’re in there?”

“I don’t see anyone, but the lights are on. In the call, Mr. Kim said that they hadn’t left in a few days. From the notes, they just went in with a big crate and haven’t even gone outside since.”

A shadow suddenly went past the window, so quick it was almost unnoticeable.

“I saw someone,” he said.

You checked the weapons on your belt, “You ready?”

He nodded, “Make it clean, make it quick. Let’s go.”

You stalked towards the cabin, mere silhouettes in the dark.

“That window looks easy to open-” you whispered, but Yoongi was already making his way to the back door. You stopped, confused by his overly eager choice, but rushed to catch up. When you approached the door, Yoongi reared back and kicked the flimsy wood in. It burst open loudly, and you both charged into what appeared to be the kitchen. One of the drones flew inside. A man stood at the stove, bread in his hand as he turned to you both.

“Now, wait what the f-”

You recognized his face from the photos. Yoongi began to move towards him, but you were already in motion. With a few quick strides you closed the distance. You took the blade from your belt and made a fluid slash across the throat. It was seamless with no splatters- an angle you had worked to master for some time now. His body slumped down, joining the shadows casted on the wooden floor.

Yoongi looked down at the body, “I had it, you know.”

“Didn’t know you had claimed him, I was just trying to get it done. I’ll let you take the next one,” you said carefully.

He took in the nearly empty interior. No one else was in sight, and it was quieter than expected. You heard some faint motion close by, though it was hard to pinpoint.

You both slowly rounded the corner to see a door with steps leading downwards.

“Pat, hurry the hell up! We’re gonna start without you!” a voice called from the basement. Soon after came the sound of whimpers and muffled screams.

Footsteps led up towards you as someone climbed the stairs.

“God dammit, every time. Get down here!” said a man with a buzz cut. He froze when he saw you at the top of the stairs. Before he could react, Yoongi planted a foot in his chest, making the man fall and tumble down the stairs.

You rushed down, stepping over his groaning body at the base of the steps.

“Why wouldn’t you just take him out…then?” you began to ask your squad mate. Your hand was on your belt, ready to take out the man at the bottom of the stairs when you turned to see the rest of the basement instead. You felt your blood run cold at the sight before you.

In the basement was the 3rd target, a ceremonial mask covering his eyes. He was fiddling with the restraints of a woman sitting naked on the floor. They sat in the middle of a circle painted by what you had assumed to be blood.

“What the fuck?!” the masked man blurted. He jumped up, running towards a shotgun in the corner of the room. Before he could reach it you threw one of your knives. It landed in his hand, pinning him to the wall.

Yoongi stood by the steps, immobile with wide eyes. You followed his gaze to the woman. Her eyes had been covered with a scarf and mouth gagged with a rag. She cried, balling up on the floor to hide from the new unseen horrors she heard. On her wrist, a red circle glistened under the lights.

“Seokjin...the targets have a victim here,” you said tightly.

“What?!” the drone came down the stairs and paused next to you, “Oh god. The crate. She was here this whole time.”

“What the fuck do we do?!”

“I’ll call the police.”

“Police?! This can’t be a job for the Cleanup Crew?!”

“I’m already dispatching the cops. This wasn’t a part of the plan but they’ll take care of her. Just finish the job and get the hell out of there!”

Yoongi’s breathing was shallow. His legs shook under him as if they would give out at any minute. His vision never broke from the woman, eyes zeroed in with a laser focus.

Behind him there was a quick motion. The man at the stairs had picked up an axe, ready to swing at your squad mate. Yoongi didn’t move, unaware of his surroundings.

“Yoongi, watch out!” Seokjin warned.

You reached for the gun in your belt and fired two shots to the man’s forehead.

The shots snapped Yoongi out of his haze. He jumped, and turned to see the body tumble behind him. He looked at you in awe.

“I…” he tried, lost for words.

The final man had pulled the knife from his hand and slumped against the wall.

“Who are you?! W-who sent you?!” his voice shook.

Yoongi faced him slowly, jaw taut and far away. He advanced across the floor, closing the distance between them as the masked man screamed to spare his life.

Yoongi crouched down, eye level with him. He pulled the mask away, exposing a thin face and pleading eyes. Yoongi went for the long knife at his side.

“Please. Please, I’m begging you…”

Yoongi plunged the knife into the target’s chest. It went deep, piercing his heart. The man’s eyes went out of focus as life left him. Yoongi pulled the stained knife out, but didn’t place it back in his belt. He lurched the weapon forward again and again, stabbing so many times you lost count. He grunted with every dig long after the man had stilled. Crimson slowly spread across the man’s white shirt.

“Woah, stop!” you screamed. You grabbed his arm and pushed him back, “What the hell are you doing? It’s over!”

Yoongi’s face twisted in pain. He was shaking, looking at the body infront of him with a sense of stunning realization. Time caught up to him and the room realigned in his vision. He closed his eyes to collect himself.

He dropped the knife to grab his head.

The woman on the floor continued to cry, hyperventilating as she tried to force words through the gag. You moved over to her and she flinched. She looked to be in her late 20s- not much older than you if you had to guess. You racked your brain for a solution- you couldn’t take off her blindfold because then she would see your faces. If the cops were coming, you didn’t want to involve her with the repercussions of that, especially when The Academy would be involved. Though at the same time, you didn’t want to leave her stranded and tied up in the house with three dead bodies.

“Um, you guys, the police are here. They just pulled up about 100 meters behind me and are walking to the cabin now,” Seokjin said, “Get out while you can.”

“Shit,” you breathed. You slowly went to grab the rag from the woman’s mouth, and she craned away, “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Please get me out of here. Please...” she cried.

“Okay, we will! They can’t hurt you anymore. The police are coming. Just let me untie you first,” you went to undo the rope, but paused, “But when I do I need you to stay calm and leave your blindfold on.”

“L-leave it on?” she asked, head whipping from side to side in her confusion.

“Trust me. If you can’t do that, I can’t untie you.”

“Okay,” she said, weakly.

With one glide of your knife she was free. She touched at the mark at her arm and her face contorted in agony at the burn. You could only imagine her suffering those few days.

“We gotta go!” you called to Yoongi, helping the young woman to her feet, “Now!”

Yoongi eventually pushed himself off the floor with unstable legs. He reached for a blanket hanging from the back of a chair, and handed it to you. You wrapped it around her as you guided her quickly up the stairs and past the men on the floor.

“Wh-who are you? Oh, god. Where are we going?” she struggled to hold herself up, and you and Yoongi supported most of her weight as you walked through the cabin.

“We’re just going outside,” you finally made it to the front porch, and she flinched when she was met with the night chill. You sat her down. Two drones glided outside and into the trees.

“So what now?” Yoongi whispered uneasily, “Do we just leave her here?”

“He said they’re on their way. She-” in the dark you heard rustling and voices. They weren’t too close, but earshot for you was close enough. You bent to her level, “Hey, the police are almost here. We’re gonna leave. Just...don’t uncover your eyes until we do.”

“Wait, no where am I? Don’t leave,” she pleaded.

“We’re just on the porch. We have to. I’m sorry.”

She moved her head to follow your voices, “Thank you. Thank you so much-”

“I see it!” called an officer in the distance.

With a final rub to her shoulder, you and Yoongi jumped off the porch and bolted into the dark forest. Looking back, you saw a group of officers run to the porch to assess her. She had taken off her blindfold and was looking around in a daze.

More officers were coming, and you both tried to run in silence while not being seen by their flashlights. You could barely see your hand in front of your face, the moon above your only guide. You ran hard, trying to not bump into trees while also checking the constellations above for the right directions.

Suddenly a flashlight crossed your vision, and Yoongi yanked you behind a tree.

You worked to catch your breath and listened for the officers to pass.

“Are we going the right way?” you whispered to him. He didn’t answer, instead looking at you with the same spacey, glazed stare from earlier, “What? And what the hell was that about back there anyway?”

“You saved my life…” he responded, his voice dreamy. His eyebrows joined together, relaying a focus that he didn’t seem to have. He seemed far away, but appeared to truly see you for the first time all night.

“Yeah, but Yoongi that wasn’t the question.”

Using his grip on your arm, he pulled you into him. His lips crashed onto yours in a messy, hard kiss. His hand went to tangle in your hair, knuckles meeting the root. You fought to understand in your haze. He grabbed your waist and tugged your body closer. You could feel the metal of the knives on his belt at your stomach, and it snapped you back.

You pushed his hand down and moved your face away.

“Yoongi, wh-”

Just then, there was a whiz above your heads as a drone flew above and past you. Both of you watched as it disappeared in the direction of Seokjin’s car. You met eyes again, but this time his expression mirrored the panic you felt.

“Oh no...” he muttered.

You didn’t want to think too much, only make it back to the car. If you really assessed the situation in your head, you knew you’d crumble.

You burst out running again, following the drone all the way until you saw the road. It was lit with shining police lights, and you finally saw the van hidden in the line of trees far ahead. When you reached it, you yanked open the door and threw yourselves inside.

“Finally!” Seokjin put the car in drive and whipped the wheel back out onto the road. As he fiddled with the navigation, you watched for any differences in his behavior. He sighed, “That was not supposed to happen.”

“What?” you blurted.

“What? The girl! Was she okay?”

“Okay? No. But the police got her,” you groaned, remembering, “The police. We called the fucking police to the sight of our mission.”

The Academy's Cleanup Crew always came after your missions to get rid of the mess and any evidence the squad may have left behind. The targets always simply “disappeared”. So calling the police to the scene before Cleanup could handle it was a nightmare in it’s own.

“I know, I know. It seems bad and it’s going to be a headache for me later but we had to do it for her. The Academy will probably have to make contact with local law enforcement again to cover our tracks, but they shouldn’t get her involved too much.”

“I really hope so,” you said.

“She...didn’t see you right?” he asked. You shook your head, “Good. That would have been a whole other problem.”

You used the rearview mirror to look at Yoongi. He was expressionless, and Seokjin followed your gaze, “Yoongi, you okay back there? Back at the mission…” you held your breath, “...it seemed like you lost focus. It was a bit of an...overkill, you think?”

You could tell Seokjin was trying to tread lightly. Though you wondered the same, as neither had seen such pointed aggression and bloodlust on a mission. Killing was always matter of fact- one and done. Never something to revel and bask in for too long.

“I just forgot where I was. That’s all,” was his reply.

The landscape turned into city, and Seokjin cursed when he saw his gas was low. He pulled into a dim gas station, and fiddled with a screen on a computer. It showed the woods and the cabin, and you watched as you stormed in after Yoongi kicked open the door.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Just making sure the drones picked up and recorded the feed from the mission,” Seokjin responded, absentminded as he clicked around.

“You recorded it?” you tried to remain calm, but you heard your voice climb an octave, “I thought you just watched in the moment.”

“Yeah I do but I can’t catch everything.”

“So...do you record with all of the drones?”

He snorted, “Duh, I use them to track patterns for my logs, you know that. And with the police involved this time, this footage will be really useful to me and The Academy later.”

“Of course,” you said, “Jin, I really need to be back home soon, could we hurry.”

He gave you a look, “Uh, sure.”

Seokjin got out to pump the gas and you looked between him and the monitor.

“Hey! While you’re out, could you go inside the convenience store and get me some chips or something. I’m really hungry.”

He scoffed “Who do you think I am? No. Get it yourself.”

“Please! You’re already outside. The mission took a lot out of me. I didn’t eat all day,” you begged, “Please, I’ll love you forever.”

He took a deep breath, “What flavor?”

“Surprise me.”

He muttered to himself as he walked toward the store. You shot to action, pulling down any tabs to find the right button.

“Fuck, do you think he saw us?” Yoongi leaned on your seat to get a view of the screen.

“I doubt it. He’s acting too normal.”

“Try that tab!” he reached over you, pointing. Your unease mounted with every word and direction he gave you, “No, not that one! Okay, try that one. Shit, he’s paying at the counter, hurry-”

“Yoongi!” you exploded, “Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m trying to help-”

“You did enough, don’t you think?! Jesus, just...I’ve got it! Give me a break. For fuck’s sake!”

He sat back down. After exhausting your options, you found a video file with the day’s date on it. You hit ‘Delete all’ and suddenly the video on the screen disappeared. You checked the trash and found nothing. You went to any other obvious folders in the confusing layout of his computer and came up empty.

You looked up to see Seokjin walking towards the car and you quickly restarted the laptop.

He opened the door and dropped two bags into your lap, “I didn’t know if you liked sour cream and onion or honey butter so I got both. Hey, what happened to my computer?”

“Thanks! Oh, it just restarted out of nowhere. It said something about needing an update and then just turned off.”

“What? No…” when it rebooted he went to his files. He searched in silence for a bit, face etched in confusion, “No, no, no. The footage from today’s mission is gone!”

“Huh? How?” you feigned, going to check for yourself.

“How does that even happen? I was sure I had it saved.”

“Damn, I’m sorry,” you said, “Is that the only copy you have?”

“Unfortunately. This day couldn’t get any worse.”

He pulled off from the gas station and continued back to the city. The whole time, ranting about his shitty computer and The Academy needing to give him another version. You grunted in agreement, and Yoongi remained silent the rest of the ride home.

___________________

After dodging her for months, it finally happened.

She couldn’t be more ecstatic when you said you were free for the night, jumping into action immediately with ideas of how to spend your time. It wasn’t like you had much else to do.

A few days had passed since the last mission in the woods, and you’d like to think you were doing a good job avoiding your squad members. You didn’t have anything against all of them, but being in their presence after the night you had was the last thing you wanted. It was rare to not hang out at least every other day, but the time alone was needed. You saw them in class and went straight home after despite their questions and protests. More and more unread and unanswered texts were piling up in your phone. You knew everything was alright- if they really needed you, you would know. You knew them too well. According to the text previews, you picked up that they went to grab drinks at the bar about an hour ago. A part of you wished you had gone, but the other knew the break was needed. So on this break, you finally gave Luna a shot. Spending the entire evening with the girl you hadn’t had a conversation longer than 5 minutes with was beyond your comfort zone.

Luna’s idea was to bake dessert. Consequently, you spent the time shuffling around each other in the small kitchen as she led the whole operation. She did most of the work, and you handed her ingredients as she rattled off. You learned that she was an Environmental Sustainability major. You honestly felt bad. You had been living with the girl for months and didn’t even know what she was going to school for.

You also learned that she really wasn’t that bad. She talked a lot, but she seemed to mean well. She was an only child like you, was allergic to cats, and hated the head cell biology professor with a passion. When you were both sitting on the living room floor borderline wine drunk and stuffed on cake, she only got more animated.

“He’s the worst! I kid you not, he almost made me drop out!” she cried. Her face was getting redder with every sip.

“Was he just a hard grader?” you laughed.

“Yeah but he also had the nerve to lecture and not share the slides online! If you missed 3 classes you just failed. He would embarrass you if you missed an answer,“ she counted off with her fingers. “Just trash!”

“He had the coffee breath too, right?”

She pointed at you, “Yes! The coffee breath! How could I forget that?! He made me want to break his nose then my own. Wait, did you have him too? What class?”

You shook your head. It felt a bit heavier than usual in your tipsiness, “I didn’t, but my friend Jin did and he said the same thing.”

“Ah, he’s in that group of guys you always hang out with, right?” you nodded, “How did you guys become friends? I’ve always wondered that.”

You shifted“I don’t know, we’ve just known each other for a really long time. We went through our more formative years together and just never let the other go.”

It may have been the wine, but you felt a pang of regret for ignoring them. Maybe you were doing too much.

“How can you stand being around them all day? They’re all so...hot,” she said, “You’ve never dated any of them before? Hooked up with them? None of them?”

“N-no, nothing like that. I can’t.”

“You can't?” She raised her brow, smirking, “Ah, so you would if you could?”

“No! They’re like my best friends, I couldn’t do it.”

“Not even the angry looking one that slept over that time?”

You stiffened, “You know about that?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t know it was a secret. I just saw him leaving one morning and assumed you were dating or something.”

“No, no, it’s not a secret or anything like that,” you rushed, “He had to sleep over because of the bad rain the night before. We’re just friends but its…”

“Complicated?” she asked.

“I mean...,” you laughed, “we’re just not really talking right now. But we’re still just friends.”

She tilted her head, looking at you with a wistful smile, “It's obvious they mean a lot to you.”

“They do. I couldn’t make it without them.”

Luna reached out to twirl a strand of hair between her fingers. Her gaze was suddenly intense as she held your eyes, “________, you’re a beautiful independent woman. You can make it without a man.”

Her stare was unnerving. The stoniness in her voice made a chill run up your back.

“I know, I’m just saying,” you turned your face away, laughing to hide your discomfort.

Your phone buzzed against your lap and you gave in to check. You wish you hadn’t.

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

Yoongi: you home?

I know you see my messages

don’t ignore me

You: why what do you want?

Yoongi: I’m coming by

You: again, why?

Yoongi: I just want to talk

Pls

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

You put your phone back down and sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear, right? The friend I’ve been avoiding is coming over and it looks like I can’t put it off anymore. I’m sorry...”

Luna pouted, “Ah, I see. Well it’s okay. It was fun to hang out while we could.”

You nodded, “Yeah, this was pretty great.”

There was a knock on the door. It was sooner than you expected. You pushed yourself off from the floor and went to the door. Yoongi stood on the other side, hands in his pockets and looking unusually hesitant.

You didn’t spare eye contact or words as you waved him in.

“Hey!” Luna waved from her spot on the floor. She gave you a knowing look.

You cleared your throat, “Luna, this is Yoongi. You met him before.”

Yoongi gave a tight smile, “Hi.”

“Ah, right! I’ve seen you around before. I went to your apartment that one time, right?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Um, yeah, that was my place.”

You led Yoongi back to your room and Luna called after him, “Nice to see you again!”

When you closed the door there was an expected silence. You turned to really look at him for the first time. His eyes were glassy and his entire face was tinted-red. You realized he reeked of alcohol.

You looked him up and down, “Jesus, are you drunk? Do the boys know you’re over here?”

He just shook his head as he walked to your bed. He didn’t usually drink much, and when he did he was always one to at least act the most sober.

He tossed himself across the mattress, putting an arm over his eyes. He tapped the space next to him, an invitation. You placed your phone on your desk and sat on the edge of the bed. You contemplated calling one of the boys to come get him, but you knew all the questions would be redirected to you.

“What did you want to talk about, Yoongi?”

“Not yet,” he said. “I just want to stay like this for a while.”

You stared at him, but he stayed still. You went to stand up, and his free hand went to wrap around your waist, pulling you to lay beside him.

You were pressed against his body and began to push away despite how good him and his sweater felt against you, “We shouldn’t do this. You said you wanted to talk, so what?”

“Please,” he breathed, “Just stay.”

You relaxed, giving in only for a bit. He held on tight, arm still firm around you. You suddenly became aware of the state the wine had left you in. You were doing a better job of holding yourself together than him, but having his arms around you mixed with your own looseness was a combo your subconscious was too eager to accept. His breathing was steady as your ear rested on his chest, and after a while you thought he had fallen asleep. The ceiling fan whooshed above you, and as you waited the hypnotic spin made you lose track of time.

His voice broke the hush of the room.

“I’m so sorry, ______.”

“You gotta be more specific.”

“I meant what I said. I forgot where I was.”

“Yoongi, I can’t say he didn’t deserve it, but that’s never been us. You know that,” you gulped, “What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” you repeated.

“I don’t. I went too far. I feel like...like I left myself,” he said in a low voice. Though you were unbearably close, he sounded so far away, “I swear I had no control for the first time ever. It was wrong. I know that. I couldn’t stop.”

“But...why?”

“I just lost sight of the mission. I put you in a bad place and you had to pick up the slack for my psychotic break, or whatever the hell that was, and I feel like shit for it. Hell, you had to save my life because I couldn’t fucking handle myself,” his voice broke as he desperately pushed the words out. “And the kiss,” he groaned. “I fucked up so bad. And you handled that too. It was a close call and it was all my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. But I want to thank you for stopping me.”

It wasn’t lost on you that he didn’t really answer your question. In all of your years of knowing each other, you never knew him to be someone to lay his heart and regrets plain out on display for just anyone. Whether it was the alcohol or sheer pain that drove him to it, you didn’t know, but it was unsettling. You just wanted to know why. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like that.”

“I deserved every bit of that and more. I didn’t hold up my end at all, I just made problems.”

“I meant what I said earlier too, you know.”

“What?”

Your arms went to wrap around his waist before you could stop yourself. He relaxed in your arms and you couldn’t let go.

“Back in the forest. I’m still here if you need to talk, you know. We’re friends after all, Yoongi. I just don’t want you to hold that shit in if you don’t have to,” you moved your head to look up at him.

A painful smile made its way to him.

Yoongi went to nuzzle his nose in your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed until he whined.

“I wanna stay like this forever.”

You went stiff, “Forever? You know we...can’t.”

“I can dream can’t I?”

He didn’t seem to get it. If in his dreams he saw you being this way forever, he was more far gone than you believed.

He looked you over again, “You don’t want this forever?”

There was such sadness in his glazed eyes, it would hurt you too to say what you should have said. Instead you stayed quiet.

“I know it's wrong, I know there are rules, but I like us this way.”

“Don’t…”

“Why?” it was his turn to ask, lips grazing your warm neck.

“You know why...we just can’t.”

“But you like to be with me like this too, right?”

You didn’t even have to ask what “like this” meant.

“I don’t think either of us are in the right head space to make that call.”

“Beyond the fucking. This is something we can do more. Hell, is it so wrong to want to hold you?”

“It-it just blurs the lines even more,” you stammered when his nose traced your collarbone.

“Screw the blurred lines. Screw The Academy. I like us like this, _____. And secretly, I think you do too.”

You felt yourself short-circuiting, “I think the lines are important because without them I can’t understand what this is.”

He stopped to search your face again, “Well what do you understand?”

His eyes were so deep. When you answered you were trapped in them, “That I like this more than I should.”

When the answer left you, there was a curse in your sober subconscious. Though seeing his face soften from the wounded mask he wore earlier almost made you forgive yourself. Almost.

It happened slowly, unlike the others. You watched each other, letting your words hang in the air before the other moved. You were the first to close the distance, Yoongi soon followed. When your lips met in the middle there was no rushed crash, no hurry driven by lust. He held your cheek in the most gentle way. Your lips pressed against his, and for the first time there was no fight for dominance. Your hand went to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer in your already tight position. He rolled himself over you, holding himself up with both hands on either side of your head. Yoongi looked you over for a second before dipping his lips back to yours.

You rolled over again, your knees on either side of his torso as you straddled him. You grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him again. His hands went to your back, skin burning under his fingertips. You went to grab at the bottom of your shirt, and he stopped you.

“You don’t have to, you know?” he said, eyes searching yours.

“But I want to.”

He moved his hand and you raised your huge t-shirt above your head and discarded it onto the floor.

The look he gave you was one of such unfiltered admiration it scared you. His gaze raked across your naked upper body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he proclaimed in such a way your face became hot.

He pulled you down to him again. His large hands traced up your thigh slowly, making you remember your revealing shorts. His touch lit a flame under your skin wherever he touched. Though it wasn’t entirely desire that you felt. This was different. Something that made your chest feel warm and butterflies dance in the pit of your stomach.

“Was that the front door?” he suddenly asked.

“No,” you quickly dismissed him, groaning when his lips went back to your neck. The growing wetness in your panties was a distraction, but you tried your best to listen through your labored breaths.

He sighed, the puff tickling the sensitive skin. He whispered, nearly soundless “Shit...I just like you so much.”

You froze.

You slowly pushed yourself up. Looking down at him, even through the alcohol he seemed to know he had crossed a line.

“You what?”

_________________

When Jungkook left the bar with the others, he was surprisingly sober. He had downed 3 beers and a tequila shot without an issue and was actually disappointed. Getting wasted would have been nice considering the trash week of classes he was having and not remembering the grade he just got on his last quiz would have been the cherry on top.

“What’s been going on with him anyways? You all noticed, right?” Hoseok asked, arm around Namjoon’s shoulder.

“How could we not? He barely said shit the whole night,” Jimin said, “How do you get shitfaced and then get up and leave? That’s just sad.”

“Did he even say where he was going?” Taehyung asked.

“No, but it's not like we have to worry about him handling himself.”

“I should check on him,” Namjoon said, “He’s been acting off for almost a week.”

“Check on _____ while you’re at it. She’s been off too.”

“You sure she’s not just finally tired of us? I wouldn’t blame her,” Seokjin said.

The others were making their way back home and Jungkook stopped to linger on the sidewalk. If he continued down this street and made a right, he’d be at your place, he noted. He suddenly remembered what you owed him.

“What?” Taehyung burped.

“You can go back, I’ll catch up later. ________’s still got my baby.”

“Whatever,” he gave a peace sign and ran to catch up to the rest.

As Jungkook walked under the dim street lights, he couldn’t help but wonder about you. After Yoongi left the bar, Seokjin had told them that the last mission was a rough one, partially because of Yoongi. This wasn’t new though, you had all seen your fair share of fucked up shit over the years. So it didn’t make sense for you to ignore everyone for days on end over it.

He looked at the texts he had sent you. None of them were opened.

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

Jungkook: Stop ignoring me I’m coming over rn

U better be home

If not im breaking in 😜

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

When he finally made it to your place, he pounded on the door. When it opened he readied to walk in, but he stopped when he saw the person on the other side.

“Hi?” Luna asked.

Jungkook forgot she lived there too, “‘Sup?”

“Oh, you’re _________’s friend, right?”

“Yeah, is she here?”

“Yeah, come in,” Luna stepped aside as Jungkook took his shoes off, leaving them beside a pair that was too big for either of the girls that lived there. He didn’t notice, “She might be a little busy though.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows joined in confusion. Like that actually mattered to him, “Uh, okay? Where is she?”

Luna pointed down the hall, “Back in her room.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Luna went back to her own room and Jungkook followed her directions down the dark hallway. He had to stop himself from salivating as he pictured what was soon to be his. He seized the handle of your door and thrust it forward.

“Ha! Can’t ignore me now, can you?”

He blinked a few times thinking something would change. In the time void the bedroom had become, everything stayed the same.

You were still mounting Yoongi.

Yoongi still held a handful of your ass.

Your bodies were still entangled in the sheets.

You were still topless.

The scene never changed.

But Jungkook wished it had.

Previous Next

_________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading like always! Feel free to lmk your thoughts 👀

#bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfiction #yoongi smut #did #the danger in duality #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts x reader #bts au #kpop fanfic

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grimoireofwritings · 4 years

Note

Hiiii can i request? Where Yuno loves to tease his significant partner (femreader) then it turned into a fight coz the sig partner has quite a temper then they made up? Or something along lines hehe please If u dont mind. Thank you!!

Absolutely! Thank you for sending in my very first request, I hope I can deliver a great lasting impression ;)

Scenario Request: Yuno teases fem s/o and evokes her temper.

Warnings: None!

Yuno felt that he was in one of his rare playful moods that morning, as he strolled alongside his s/o on a refreshing Spring day to find an open field large enough for sparring without spatial constrictions. The day before, by chance, he had run into his fiery rival on a casual mission, and he was always absolutely delighted to get a first hand look at Asta’s growth and improvement whenever he could snag the opportunity. He always felt a gushing sense of pride in those moments for his childhood friend, and a burst of energy usually followed the next day as he was further reminded of his motivations in becoming the wizard king. Always stay one step ahead of that passionate, loud-mouthed spitfire.

“Yuno... Listen, I know you’re excited about seeing Asta’s improvements.. But I know where this is going after sparring with you last time this happened.. And I’m gonna ask that you please not be a total ass today.” At this, the dark haired male scoffed, and smirked. “Perhaps you should make it a challenge for me then.” He shot her a cheeky smirk that ended up going unnoticed, after hearing her sigh and roll her eyes.

He could be a bit of a trash talker when he was feeling competitive, but sometimes he’d forget that Asta was the only person who’d grown up seeing this side of him, and therefore could understand the intentions behind the words. Yuno was aware that he could sound detached at times, and due to his calm and collected nature, his tone was sometimes misinterpreted by others. Especially in this situation, where he didn’t realize his teasing sounded so blunt that it would come across as a genuine insult.

“Yeah, yeah.. Whatever, Yuno. You already know I can hold my own, even against an arrogant brat with a four leaf clover grimoire.” At that moment in time, you were already pouting, giving a huff as you both moved past the outstretching pathway thick with greenery, but suddenly you felt an intense gust of wind propel you forward the second you’d lifted a foot to pass over a thick protruding tree root at the base of a great oak. Immediately, your foot hooked beneath the arch of the branch, and you went tumbling to the dirt. Lucky for you, your asshole prince charming was there to snag you from the fall just before your knees hit the earth.

“So graceful and coordinated. I’m quaking in my boots.” He meant for it to sound jesting and playful... He really did. But it came out instead sounding almost cold and condescending. Something that even he noticed as the words left his mouth. Still, he knew that for the most part, you were one of the few that understood his temperament when others did not. So he shrugged it off, assuming you would be aware that his emotions manifested differently than most people.

He was too cheery and preoccupied with his own thoughts to take note of how irritated you were growing with his antics. Sometimes his words were sharp. And regardless of his intentions right then, he was just.. being rude. As the two of you finally approached the open clearing, a massive grassy plain that you’d found perfect for practice grounds, you weren’t expecting him to snap right into action without so much as a warning. “A true magic knight should always be on guard for the unexpected~” he called, as you were swept into the sky by an overwhelming tornado of powerful winds. Yuno rarely tossed you up into the air like this, but when he did, he usually caught you right after, and used it as a moment to hold you and make a romantic display.

Despite not having given a warning for his attack, he did catch you, like he always did. You landed in his arms, and he scooped you up, giving you a smirk. “Your hair’s a mess now and you’re all disheveled. What a flattering look.” He shot you another grin. But at this point, it just came off as being arrogant.

That’s it. No more. I’m done with this.

“Let go of me Yuno, I’m not a dummy for target practice.” You snapped at him, growling as you harshly pushed him away, your feet planting in the dirt as you stood back up on your own two legs. “I understand you’re excited. But I am not Asta. I’m not your rival. I’m your girlfriend.. The person you’re supposed to build up and be a team with.” You hadn’t realized that your fist had come to clench around the front of his shirt, yanking him forward to face you and your outrage.

“I demand respect from you. I don’t care how much stronger you are. I won’t be treated as an embarrassment or a joke. This is ridiculous, I’m not sparring with you anymore until you actually start to make me feel good about myself, rather than a useless ditz.”

You let go of him, turning on your heels to storm off back towards headquarters. He stood there, momentarily shocked by your reaction. He was aware you had a tenacious side to you.. and he had always admired how you never failed to stand up for yourself, and demand the respect you deserved, even from superiors. But you were right. He had crossed the line today.

He set off in your direction, booking it as fast as he could to catch up. Right when he caught sight of you once more, he used his wind magic, but with different intentions this time, as he used a swooping gust to twist you around and face his direction. He finally caught up just in time, colliding with you, as he reached beneath your legs and hoisted you up by your thighs, lifting you up to look into your eyes. “Y/n... I’m...”

He paused. How could he explain this to you? “I’m sorry. You’re right, I was out of hand. And you’re also right about my responsibility as your partner to encourage you. I promise I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I... The reason I speak like that is because I respect you. I know you’re a strong person, so I like to tease you, to let you know I consider you a challenge in strength and merit. You can hold your own against me. I acknowledge you as competition.”

But he sighed a moment later, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips. “But I will start encouraging you more often. I just want to see you grow to your fullest potential. And I know you always will.”

A moment of silence, before he watched you return his expression of warmth. “Ok Yuno. Thank you.” He watched your eyes lower to his lips. “I love you.” And with that, the rest of your day together was improved, starting with a kiss.

#Yuno #black clover #black clover imagine #black clover scenario #black clover blog #yuno black clover

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honestsycrets · 5 years

Text

Jin-Woo

❛ pairing | ivar x reader, anxious oc: jin woo x doom and despair

❛ word count | 1403

❛ genre | one shot, mostly funnies

❛ summary | ivar’s secretary jin woo is concerned ivar isn’t getting his fuck buddy anything special, so, he takes on the task

❛ warnings | ivar in shit, jin woo in shit, everyone in shit

“Should I get something for (Y/N) today?”

Everyone had been asking him that. Not a big deal for others, maybe, but you weren’t his wife. You weren’t even his girlfriend! Just a piece of ass-- no, a fuck buddy. Was that the right term? Ivar straightens out his silky tie, debating just exactly what his fuck buddy said. He glances back to his secretary as he walks in.

“Why would I, Jin-Woo?” Ivar glaces up from the tablet he was working on. Jin shuffles in his place, looking down to the calendar of Ivar’s schedule. It was bound to be a busy day for him with a schedule filled up until six at the very least.

“It’s Valentine’s day, chairman.” Jin says.

“So?”

“She might be expecting something?” He asks. “It is Valentines day.”

“She is not my wife.” Ivar rolls his eyes as he walks away from his desk out toward the double doors. They spread apart with a whirl. “Just get her some roses.”

“But-- but she’s allergic to roses.” Jin-Woo follows him. Ivar motions to his well tailored grey suit fixing a notch in Ivar’s black tie. It sits just underneath his grey vest and atop of a white button up, tailored nicely to his body.

“Then chocolate.”

“But-- shouldn’t it be more intimate?” He asks.

“I buy her purses and dresses all the time.” Ivar says. Despite the fact that it was Jin-Woo who did most of the shopping on Ivar’s part.

“If you want to get her something, knock yourself out. Get your wife something pretty while you’re at it.” Ivar steps into the elevator, shoving Jin-Woo back out of it. “I have more important things to do than to worry about her.”

“Aish.” He hisses. “What do I get?”

This was more stressful than getting his own wife something. Which, shit! He hadn’t done that either. He grabs his bag and whizzes out the door. The first place that he had on his mind was a higher end shop.

He was only in for minutes when he caught sight of you bobbing around the corner. Stupidly he dropped under one of the tables, hand in his short black hair swept over his eye. His tie hung between his black slacks, almost touching the pale white tiles of the floor. A pair of black high heels stops in front of the table behind them-- and he knows those cute black pedicured toes to be yours.

“Jin-Woo?”

“Damn it...” He curses under his breath, slipping out from under the table and standing at his full height. He clears his throat and adjusts his tie, jamming his hand into his pocket.

“Miss (L/N).” He says nervously, running his wet tongue over cracked lips. He searches for the right excuse as her hands come to intertwine over her chest. The man beside her slides his hand into his pocket but otherwise says nothing.

“What are you going here?” She asks.

“Um, I.” He stutters. “I came to get my wife something.”

“Did you?” She says. “They aren’t out of your pay grade?”

Owch. He winces at that one, trying his best to just smile. He knows that normally that would have been true but-- he had a great boss. As a hard worker himself, he was afforded things that other people wouldn’t have gotten. He knows you could hardly care about what Ivar allowed him to get. Jin-Woo was a small little fish in comparison to the big one, Ivar. He lets a heavy breath loose choosing to take the path of honesty.

“I came to find you something.” He admits.

“Oh, are you?” She runs her hands through her hair. “What are you getting me this year?”

“This year?” He stutters. “You know?”

“Of courses I know. I know what he likes-- and more than half the time it’s not the puffy cute things you buy.”

More than half the time it would be cute little baby dolls, panties and bras that were puffy and light. Sure, certainly that could be Ivar’s taste, but more mature. Jin-Woo loved gentle princessy pink things for his wife.

“Sorry.” He bends his head.

Ivar was going to kill him. Forget his job-- when he found out about this, he was in trouble. After a brief few seconds, you ran your cherry red nails up and down his black suit jacket. He swallows after a good few minutes and looks to the nearby table where a pink baby doll with red hearts sits.

“Uh…” He stutters. “This one?”

“It’s pretty girly, isn’t it?” You say, placing it back on his arm. “But I do suppose that’s your taste for your wife.”

“You’re not angry?” Jin-Woo says furthermore.

“Oh of course I am. Just not with you.” You tap his nose with your finger and then move to another area. “Now this one is more my taste!”

Oh god, he’s going to be fired.

“I knew it would fall through!” Ivar laughs in his chair, swiveling it around to look at the night lights surrounding the bright lights that lit up several different buildings. “Yes-- yes, I’ll make it on the nearest flight.”

His phone vibrates along the call. He pulls his phone away from his ear enough to look at the notification.

Jin-Woo I’m sorry!

It doesn’t occur to him until he looks up to the reflection of the window. Behind him the doors gave a soft whizz. Between them, he definitely recognizes that it isn’t his dopey little secretary who walked in.

“...I’m going to have to call you back, Josue.” He turns off the phone and whizzes around in his chair. His eyebrow perks up as your heels click closer and closer. The coat you wear is pulled tight, knotted into a little bow. Not a sight of a dress is underneath-- and curiously Ivar looks toward your soft legs.

“Hm.” He tosses his phone on his desk. “What are you doing, (Y/N)?”

You beeline straight toward him, fiddling with the knot on your waist. Ivar turns his head deliberately slowly, watching the coat fall from your body. The cherry satin, strappy two piece with scalloped lace tickles him just the right way. You reach out to fist his tie around your closed fist, holding him so tightly that you can feel the knot along his throat. You straddle his hips, drawing him in against your lips.

“You know I like you, don’t you, Ivar?”

He leans forward, stealing a small kiss from your lips. It was evident that he must have too.

“Mhm, that is why I bought you that, (Y/N).” He runs his fingers over the delicate red scalloped lace, falling to your ass. He grabs a handful, dropping his head back because fuck if he’s not going to have a good night.

“Oh you like it?” You ask.

“Of course I do. Your ass in that…”

“Thank you.” You smile. “Jin Woo got it for me.”

What. He leans back, a small drop in his lips when it all comes together. His tongue courses along the side of his lip, struggling to come up with an answer. Usually he was more composed, always with an excuse.

“I might have been too busy today.” He answers. You lift your hand up into his hair to grip his short strands of hair. It was, after all, a special day. You don’t know what you were expecting… but it hadn’t been that.

“I shouldn’t have expected more.” You lean in, laying a kiss upon his lips. “It does look nice on me, doesn’t it?”

“You aren’t angry?”

“It’s not like you’re my boyfriend, right? You’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

The words are dry. He leans back in his chair and fights with the right words to agree that-- yeah, he isn’t a boyfriend. He shouldn’t feel obligated to do shit! At the same time even as a fuckbuddy… those words sound like he’s not deserving of being more to you. Ivar turns down his blue eyes, nostrils flaring.

“Let’s go to your house.” You wink and dismount his lap and offer him your hand. You caught the cute little pout in his lip. If you didn’t know betterr, you would have thought that your words set him alight. “We have to ‘christen’ the lingerie.”

The last message to Jin Woo that night was trouble.

Ivar Ragnarsson I’m going to kill you.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke@arses21434, @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope, @chinduda

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar’s heathen army #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #vikings/reader #vikings x reader #vikings imagines #5cw: Ivar

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lucyreviewcy · 5 years

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The Mummy (2017) Dir. Alex Kurtzman

What can I really say about this movie?

I wasn’t allowed to watch the original Mummy movies as a kid, so when I eventually came to watch these forbidden films I was vaguely disappointed that they weren’t spooky enough. As a result, I was pretty excited for the much spookier looking Tom Cruise reboot (even though it had Tom Cruise in it - usually something that drives me away from the movie).

There were a few alarm bells in the first fifteen minutes of the movie. For starters, we have a love interest who is a solid 23 years younger than our protagonist. She’s also definitely a love interest: she doesn’t do very much apart from get injured and be sad.

The second alarm bell was something I hadn’t picked up on before seeing this movie, but which I believe to be generally true. Rule: if the main character in a movie is called Nick, the main character in the movie is usually the worst. The Mummy compounds this issue by layering the Nicks all over the place. The first two characters we are introduced to are Nick (Tom Cruise) and Sgt. Vail. Sgt. Vail is played by Jake Johnson, who most of us will know as Nick from new girl. This issue is then made even worse by the introduction of Russell Crowe’s character, Henry, who is essentially the Dark Universe version of Nick Fury. THAT IS TOO MANY NICKS. More Nicks than a well-used broadsword. More Nicks than a Santa vs Satan themed birthday party. More nicks than Adrian Dunbar in a room full of bent coppers.

Aside this sig-nick-ficant issue which probably only affected me. There are so many other problems with this movie, but before I list them I want to state that I found it a fun romp. I would probably watch this movie again as a spooky treat around Halloween. I am fully disappointed that the Dark Universe never took off, because if this were the first offering I would have been so ready for the rest of the franchise. Sadness abounds.

That said, I can completely understand why audiences may have had trouble with this movie. Please see the following list of glaring flaws in The Mummy:

Tone. This movie has more trouble with tone than a dog trying to tastefully decorate a penthouse apartment. I don’t know much about its development, but it feels like an original version of the movie was shot and then producers said “Can’t you add a funny in every scene?” I don’t know if it was intentional, but even the big scary Pharoah-faced statue has something vaguely comical about it. As they lower the Mummy into her prison, past this big ol’ face, the face just looks really shocked and vaguely disgusted by her. I guess that’s a nice way of hammering home that the evil lady who just killed a baby really is evil. But also… She just killed a baby. We know she’s evil. We don’t need a statue to make an emoji-esque face to tell us that. This gets worse when later, as she’s lifted out of the prison, the same statue looks shocked and afraid. But we know that she’s bad. We don’t need to be told to be shocked and afraid by a big statue. Stop telling me what to feel, statue! This is typical of the film as a whole. Spooky fight scenes have comical sound effects and any brief emotional scene involving Nick is punctuated by a witty one-liner. I would have been happy with this in smaller doses, it works really well in Jurassic Park. In Jurassic Park we have lots of comical one-liners and witty banter from Jeff Goldblum in the early stages, but as the film darkens and characters start dying, Goldblum’s character is removed from the action and the gags are fewer and farther between. That doesn’t happen in this movie, we have jokes all the way through and a lot of them aren’t even funny. Especially this exchange: “You’re a good person Nick, I know that because you gave me the only parachute.” “I thought there was another one.” This doesn’t work for lots of reasons but it especially doesn’t work when it is referred back to as an emotional flashback in the final scene, sans punchline. The punchline of “I thought there was another one” is Nick’s way of brushing off this and indicating that actually he might just be an asshole through and through. You can’t use that compliment later on as proof that he’s a good person! You think you can do these things but you just can’t Nemo... sorry... I digress...

Gender. There’s a blonde female character who’s vaguely intellectual but actually clearly only there to roll her eyes at Nick and how he’s the worst. She earned her right to eye-rolling by having sex with him at some earlier point but now that’s all she’s allowed to do. She also provides the emotional core of the movie… What a shock, said no-one ever. Perhaps this is just because the last movie I saw that I loved this much was Fast and Furious: Hobbs and Shaw which has Vanessa Kirby kicking ass and propelling the plot forward with sheer force of will, but I found the character of Jenny unnecessarily dull and cliche. She just screams a bunch to tell us about the threat that’s happening. In case we weren’t feeling threatened by the zombie mummies that are attacking her. But we were aware because we could see that happening. So… Thanks for trying, Jenny. Then there’s the Mummy herself. I swear no actress on the planet gets her talent squandered as frequently as Sofia Boutella. Equal parts terrifying and beautiful, Boutella is at her best when she gets to wreak havoc in Kingsman - but since then I’ve only ever seen her in limiting roles that don’t make the most of her delicate threat/allure balance. From almost bond-girl in Atomic Blonde to the-hit-woman-in-the-red-dress in Hotel Artemis (She’s a hitman = THREAT, but she’s in a red dress = ALLURE - delicate, subtle…), Boutella gets landed with characters that are tired stereotypes. Ahmamet is not much of an improvement. The parts of the film where the Mummy is less CGI and more makeup and physicality are really satisfying, allowing Boutella to be her spooky self. It’s disappointing that the mummy makes people into other mummies by kissing them, because of course the only way a woman can win a man over is by using her sexuality. FEMINISM. The Mummy could have pushed her much further, but if this movie proves anything it is that Sofia Boutella would have made a far better Enchantress than Cara Delavigne did in Suicide Squad.

This movie doesn’t know the difference between Zombies and Mummies. As soon as she wakes up, the titular Mummy starts snog-converting all of the locals into mummies who then become her lackeys. But they just look like zombies. She’s made zombies. They shamble around like zombies. We have the “Zombie on the car” sequence that I’ve seen before in zombie movies. These are zombies. I didn’t come here for zombies. I came here for mummies, the risen dead. Not zombies, the undead. The thing that’s really irritating about the snog-mummification sequence is that she turns all the living people into zombies even though it is later established that she can cause corpses to rise from the dead. So why is she bothering to turn all these alive people into zombies when she is in a graveyard. That’s so much extra effort. Has she never mapped a process? Has she not considered she may need to conserve her resources? Have you ever heard of RECYCLING? I mean she’s from ancient history so I guess not. Eventually, we do end up with a significant number of mummies because of some very heavily established buried knights (SO MUCH EXPOSITION), but those are fine. I’m just mad about all the zombies.

Tom Cruise. I regret to inform you that Tom Cruise is no-longer a bankable star. The Mission Impossible movies are a bankable franchise and that is a different thing. I am never tempted to go and see a movie because Tom Cruise is in it. I spent the last hour of this film listing actors who could have made this movie better. The list ended up with one name on it and that name was Ryan Reynolds. Reynolds’ typical cynicism in the face of a well-loved franchise might have resulted in a more consistent tone to the movie. We know from every other movie that he does that he can balance serious and silly in a way that keeps the audience laughing and crying. We know that he can make even the thinnest of storylines seem plausible. We know that he does well opposite another equally sarky character so the chemistry with Jake Johnson (one of the few commendable parts of this movie) would still work and maybe even be improved.

I loved Russell Crowe in this movie and there won’t be any more Dark Universe movies and it is all Tom Cruise’s fault. This point doesn’t need much expansion. Russell Crowe is just really fun as Dr Jeckyll and Mr Hyde and I loved every second of his performance. The structure of the movie is weird because it introduces him and then drops him almost immediately for about an hour, but he’s just great. I don’t normally love Russell Crowe in anything and this really won me over. I would have watched all the Dark Universe movies for Russell Crowe alone. My boyfriend pointed out, from only hearing his voice emanating from my laptop, that Russell Crowe in this movie sounded like he was voicing the big fat posh tuxedo cat that used to live near us. I loved it.

I didn’t know how many feelings I had about this movie until I started writing them down. I loved the idea and I felt like I was enjoying it but now that I look back there were so many problems. It’s like if I spent a few days knitting a scarf without looking at my work and then discovered that I’d dropped like half the stitches and it was just a mess. That’s how I felt.

I hope you can look past the many problems I have highlighted with this movie next time you need a wild, undead but also risen dead romp. In a lot of ways, The Mummy is just like Sofia Boutella’s characters in everything: both alluring and threatening at the same time.

#themummy #the mummy #tom cruise #movie review #mummy 2017 #sofia boutella #feelings #stop telling me how to feel statue

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primusparry · 5 years

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Peyton gets a booboo

Peyton: [Absolutely nothing, not one thing had changed after that kiss, which meant, all thoughts and fantasies that my lips were somehow magical and would convince Paradise that she was madly, deeply in love with me, were just that. A solo show starring me, myself and Rosy Palm, raw from all the… yeah. We'd returned to the training facility the next night, easy banter among the soldiers and brothers as we paired off for rotation, nothing out of the ordinary. Which of course, disappointed the most moronic part of me that would always pine for a relationship that would never be. Paradise had locked me into the friend zone years ago and thrown away the key. Someday, I hoped, I'd come to terms with that. But tonight was not that night. Had she glanced my way a few times more than usual? And her cheeks were flushed from the cold night air when I first caught sight of her. Nothing more. But damn if a few seconds of swapping spit hadn't scrambled my brain worse than any herbal paranoia ever could. My mental self beat down took me deep into the urban arteries of Caldwell, barely a word passing between myself and Blay as we headed into the night. We knew the grid we were covering well, the where's and when's we were supposed to cross paths and check in. I was thankful for the familiar terrain tonight, because Scribe knew I probably couldn't handle anything more than a trainee level workload.]

Parry:

*I’ve been worried that that kiss would make things awkward between Pey and I, and I’m afraid that I was right. Everyone was chatting and joking around as usual as we meet up at the training center to pair off for rotation the night after the party at my house- but Pey and I barely spoke to each other at all before we headed out. I try not to overthink things as Xcor and I patrol our territory. I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about that kiss, but I know that I already miss the easy camaraderie between my best friend and I. It took us so long to get it back after the fights when we first joined the program, and now it’s gone again just like that. Shoving such thoughts onto my brain’s back burner, I mentally berate myself. Get your head in the game, girl! Going into the field distracted is an excellent way to get yourself seriously hurt- or worse.

I wave at Novo as we cross paths with her and Phury, same thing again a few minutes later with Craeg and Balthazar. After teaming up with the latter pair to take down a group of lessers, we parted ways again, both teams searching for their next targets.

Peyton: [It wasn't long before the squawk of action came over our ear-comms, my shit kickers stalling when I heard that Parry was in the frey. Even as my eyes continued to scan, I listened intently, not inhaling again until I heard the barked, "all clear." Sound in my ear. Relief washed the tension from my shoulders just as I rounded a corner… and came face to face with half a dozen lessers I hadn't scented because they were down wind. Fuck! Drawing my weapons as I gave a sharp whistle for Blay who had split off in the opposite direction a few meters back, I got a few rounds popped off, watched two of the six drop, at least momentarily, before another three took me to the ground. Guns useless at this aimless range, I grabbed for the knives sheathed at my side. Slashing with strategic strokes, I flinched briefly from the blinding light of sending one fucker back to the Omega, only to cry out through gritted teeth as the other gripping my wrist and forced my own hand down, knife point glinting as this powder stenched fucker pushed my own fucking knife into my thigh as the third found my other arm back, blocking my own defense. How the fuck was I going down like this?

In the next blink, the weight of the one on my chest was gone as the one stabbing me with my own weapon was blown backwards. Ignoring the searing pain in my thigh, I knew it was Blay at the top of the alley as I leveled myself onto one elbow, lifted my sig and downed another couple of albino assholes. Struggling to my feet, I kept watch as Blay surged up the alley and made quick work of sending each of the half holey, wriggling dick weeds back to their maker. Chest heaving as the last pop dissipated, I looked down, hand braced on the brick wall beside me I swayed on my feet.] I think he nicked my femmy femoral… [and that was all I could muster before the lights went out.]

Parry:

*I'd just stopped a human man from harassing a woman behind a club when Blay’s voice hit my ear through the comms. Peyton is badly hurt after a run in with a squad of lessers, and Blay is getting him to the mobile medical unit. I freeze, scared and worried for my friend. But then I am suddenly also furious. Blame it on all the introspection during the previous day, but all I can think about is all the crap Pey spewed when we were joining the program, about the possibility of me getting hurt. Well, looks like you’re not so invincible yourself, are you, you bastard?!

I resist the urge to head over to the mobile unit immediately to check on him, because I don’t want to get in the doc’s way while he’s being treated. I’m also more than slightly tempted to kick his ass myself right now, and that obviously wouldn’t help anything at all. Struggling not to bare my fangs, I take off running in search of another fight, ignoring Xcor calling my name behind me. I hear his footsteps like louder and heavier echoes of my own as he follows me, cursing. Then I see three lessers down an alley. I grin as I pull my daggers out, thinking ‘perfect….’*

Peyton: [I blinked in and out of consciousness for I don't know how long. First it was Manny, looking like an archangel from the Fade, leaning over me to block out the blinking fluorescents. The bumps that jostled my body, shooting pain to places I didn't know could hurt, told me I was in the mobile medical unit. Yippee! A delirious laugh answered whatever question he was asking me, and I knew either the good shit was getting pumped into my veins, or I was close to the end. I really hoped it was the first.] Par… Parry. [The roll of his eyes told me that I wasn't close to a right answer, then his face was gone and I faded again. The next time I woke it was to a much smoother ride, the gurney, taking me to the clinic was my best bet. Warm and fuzzies filling my heavy head, I closed my eyes again. At least if I was going unto the Fade it would be from a place where I matter. Where my people would know, and at least a few might give a shit that I was gone. My father would only be disappointed that I hadn't OD'ed in my bedroom like he'd always predicted.]

Parry:

*I just finish stabbing the last lesser back to the Omega when I’m suddenly grabbed from behind. I’m about to retaliate when I realize that it isn’t the enemy who has me in his grip, it’s Xcor. He spins me around and slams me against the brick wall and gets all up in my face, absolutely furious. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” He demands. “Do you _want_ to get yourself killed? Cause if so, too damn bad. It won’t be happening on my watch, female. You want to fight, beat the shit out of something? Fine. We’ll go back to the training center and I’ll spar with you in the gym as much as you want. Otherwise, I’m going to tell Tohr to take you off rotation until you can keep your head together. These are your only two options, because you really can’t be in the field right now.” I open my mouth to retort angrily- but then I realize that he’s 100 percent right. Hell, wasn’t I literally just thinking how dangerous distraction can be? Wrestling my temper under control, I nod.* Ok then. Let’s hit the gym. *Xcor nods, and hits the comms to let everyone know we were leaving the field. Then I close my eyes, and it takes a moment but I’m able to scatter my molecules and demat back to the training center. Xcor appears right beside me, and the two of us head inside and down the hall to the gym. We take off our jackets and all our various weapons and lay them on a bench before walking out onto the mats. Xcor sinks down into a defensive posture, and the look on his face is calm and patient as he waits to see what I’m going to do next. I go after him, holding nothing back. We fight until I’m limping- thanks to a good roundhouse kick on his part to swipe my legs out from under me- and pouring sweat as I walk over to grab a towel and sit on the benches for a breather. Wiping my face as I accept a bottle of water from him, I look up at him as he stands towering above me. “Go on.” He says, nodding at the doors with a slight smile. “Go take a shower and then check on your… friend. The medics have to have him settled in at the clinic by now, and you’ll feel better once you see for yourself how he’s doing.” I note the slight pause before the word ‘friend,’ as if he’d been wanting to say something else instead. Something like “your male.” Not that Peyton is mine or ever likely to be, but we’re best friends and everyone here knows it. Why wouldn’t I be worried about him at such a time? Rather than comment on or try to correct Xcor’s assumption, I simply nod and thank him for his help, and get up to head over to the female’s locker room. Quick shower and towel off, and I pull some clean clothes on and pull my hair back in a braid before going over to the clinic. Finding the room Peyton’s been placed in, I walk right in. He’s sleeping- or appears to be- and there’s no visible injuries or bandages. However and wherever he’s hurt, it’s somewhere under the blankets, not on his face or arms. I pull a chair over to the bedside and take my best friend’s hand, getting comfy and settling in to wait for him to wake up.

Peyton: [I knew Dr. Manny had poked and prodded for a while. I vaguely recall mumbling some semblance of answers to questions I thought they were asking. There was something about feeding, when I last had, or that I would need to, something. Then, I guess they figured maybe it wasn’t Fade time for me, because he left me alone to enjoy my morphine induced sleep. It was a very familiar scent that roused me from that sleep. One that I knew as well as my own as it plagued my dreams and my nightmares equally.

Paradise.

My pulse kicked into high gear, the little blood I had left in my body pumping through my veins. Her soft, warm, not at all warrior callused hand on mine, had my lashes fluttering, trying to open, the best I could manage was a crack as my lids felt like there were anvils sitting on top of them. My wrist worked though, and I turned it, so that I could lace my fingers with hers, a gravelly barely perceptible laugh scratching up my throat when I spied the worry lines creasing her otherwise perfect brow. If I was any higher, I might think an angel had come to take me to heaven. But no, that was human religion. I was a vampire and so was she.] Careful. You keep scowling at me like that and your face might get stuck like that.

Parry:

*Well, that figures. Even badly injured, barely conscious, and no doubt high as a kite from the pain meds and such, Peyton just can’t help being a smartass. I roll my eyes and give a distinctly unladylike snort, even as I give his hand a gentle squeeze* Oh, please. If that hasn’t happened by now after dealing with you for years, it never will! *Then I drop the attempt at levity and get very serious as I look into his barely open eyes.* So, what the hell even happened out there tonight? Blay said something about you running straight into a big squad of lessers. Sweet Scribe, Pey, what in the world were you thinking?!

Peyton: [Her anger had my scowl mirroring hers. I was confused and immediately defensive with her coming at me. As if I needed more reassurance that the random kiss meant absolutely nothing to her. Pain pulsed from my heart to my newly resown leg and I wished in that moment that the lessers had done a better job. Sucking in a deep breath through my nose, I winced as the expansion of my chest sent another spike of agony through my battered body.] Yes, we ran into them. As in, turned a corner and they were there. And I was thinking, "Hey, the enemy...guess I should do my job and kill these fuckers before they go after an innocent civilian, or better yet, my partner." [Turning drug heavy eyes up to hers, I arched a brow,pulling my hand from her grip.] If you've sufficiently laid into me, I'd like to get back to sleep. I was having a great dream. You didn't treat me like shit and let me put my dick in your mouth. [Pressing my lips together, I turned my head to face the wall. It was a shit thing to say, but my pain level, inside and out had my filter torn to shreds. I was sure she'd have more to say as I wish Manny would come back in with another shot of morphine.]

Parry:

*My temper fires up again at his deliberately crude words, insult and shock slamming through me* Unbelievable! I didn’t come here to be insulted, Pey. I came to check on my friend, even though I’m seriously pissed off and would really like to take a swing at you myself right now. After all, you were so worried about me getting hurt if I joined the program, but which one of us ended up here in the clinic tonight? You did. And I got so distracted when the news came over the comms that Xcor had to pull me off the streets, and that’s after I spent way too much time overday thinking about that damn kiss…. *I break off my rant, realizing that I’ve let loose and said entirely too much. I fight not to blush as I pull myself together and stand up.* I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. Maybe I should just go…

Peyton: [The spike of ire was too intense to ignore. It fed the injured, predator inside of me. Jaw clenched, my chest ached in time with the pulse of pain in my thigh, which only proved to wear away at my filter further.] For fucks sake, Paradise, I get that you regret the damn kiss. Kick me while I'm down why don't you? So what I ended up in the clinic? Every one of us does at some point. What? Disappointed that I'm going to pull through? Sorry to disappoint, because if you coming in here and laying into me the minute I open my eyes is your idea of checking up on me, thanks but no thanks. [I hadn't realized I was yelling until a very loud knock at the door had me shutting my mouth. Glaring at the interruption, my features softened when I saw Dr. Manny followed by the chosen Amalya. Cursing under my breath, I studiously ignored Parry, trying my best to look apologetic.] My apologies, Chosen. Doctor. Please, come in. [Casting a scathing glare at her, I sneered as she got to her feet.] Last chance to take a swing, Parry. I'll be good as new in no time.

Parry:

*I’m about to snap back at him when a knock sounds at the door, and Doc Manny walks in with a gorgeous female- and not just any female, a Chosen. The directrix herself, if I’m not mistaken. And of course, she’s got to be here to feed Peyton. Their presence helps me rein in my temper once more, though I feel an unexpected and unsettling twinge in my chest at the thought of Peyton taking Amalya’s vein. I decide it would probably be best to use their entrance to excuse my leaving. After greeting the new arrivals, I turn back to Peyton.* I’ve already apologized for losing my temper, but will do so again if it’ll make you feel better. I truly didn’t mean to snap at you, and I really am sorry for it. As for regrets, I don’t recall saying that I had any. Because I don’t, unless the… event in question ends up messing up our friendship and causing problems between us. I might come back after nightfall to check on you again, once we’ve had a chance to cool down, but right now I’ll just go and leave you to your feeding. I’ll see you later. *after bowing to the Chosen again and nodding to Manny, I walk out of the room and demat home to my father’s mansion, my emotions even more tangled than before.*

Peyton: [The scowl that furrowed my brow as she said her piece and left telegraphed my confusion. She...didn't regret…? What in Dhund did that mean? Because if she felt anything besides friendship or hatred towards me, basically the two emotions that ran hand and hand in mine and Paradise's relationship, she had a pretty messed up way of showing it. And why after all this time…? Shaking myself from my thoughts as a knot of guilt formed in my belly, I tried to focus on the check up questions Manny was asking me.] Uh, yeah, whatever you gave me is holding up. My leg feels like a ton of bricks, but besides that just twinges of pain. [I tried for a gentle smile that barely curled my lips as I addressed the Chosen, keeping my eyes downcast out of respect for her position.] Thank you for your service. I am not worthy of the gift of your life blood. [She nodded in acknowledgment and offered her wrist. On any other occasion, I'd be jazzed to be feeding from such a lovely being and the buzz her blood could give, but tonight as my fangs sank deep, my eyes were locked on the darkness of the hall outside of the small window in the door of my hospital room, yearning for a glimpse of Paradise.]

#SASBDB

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flannelpunkcalum · 6 years

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These are so good omg 10 from the best friend ones with cal maybe? Love your writing xx

“friends don’t do this kind of shit!” with cal?

hey i love you!!!! that’s so nice of you to say! and this is also the last of the best friends to lovers prompts so i’d just like to say it was fun and thanks to everyone who sent something in! sorry this took so long but i had my last midterm today!!!!!!

“Hey, Cal, you coming to Kappa Sig tonight?”

Calum ducked his head as Ashton clapped him on the shoulder. Practice had left his shoulders aching, and a few months ago he would have been ready to drink until he couldn’t feel anything but wavy. It was almost Halloween - t’was the season to drink hard cider until it came out of his nose.

“Nah, not tonight, man.” He said instead.

“Balls. Mikey? Are you goin’?”

“Yeah, boy.”

“Boiiiiiiiiii.” Luke chimed in.

As they came off the field, Calum peeled himself away from the group a little. It was getting harder to explain why he wasn’t going out, why he wasn’t as much fun anymore. He knew they were gonna pin him for it eventually, but… he wasn’t up for that banter tonight.

“Don’t have too much fun, boys.” He yelled into the changeroom as he headed out. Ashton whooped on at him as the door slid shut behind him. Somehow, Calum didn’t feel the least bit jealous.

He tried to keep to himself while he showered and packed up. Other athletes were spilling out of the complex, and as Calum’s feet hit the sidewalk he nodded to a few of them. One of the kin students - Erica - caught up to him, bumping him with her elbow.

“Hey,” She said, smiling at him with bright eyes. Cal just nodded; he was glad enough to see her. Kinesiology students practising sports medicine usually volunteered at practice, she’d mended his turf burn on a few occasions. “How’s your ego doing since you ate it out there? Little bruised?”

Calum found himself laughing. The rain had turned the turf into a slip ‘n slide that day, and his soccer cleats hadn’t been enough to keep him upright during wind sprints. “Compound fracture.” He joked.

Erica winced dramatically. She was cute, Calum knew it, but when she pouted at him like that it didn’t move anything within him. “Aw, baby.” She said, voice liquid.

“I’ll recover.”

“Well, if I can help, just let me know. My roommate is gonna be gone all weekend, so if you ever need some impromptu physio, I’m all yours.” She said casually. Like she wasn’t invested in his answer. People only really did that when they were, it seemed.

Erica was great. She was smart, and funny, and pretty. Ashton would be foaming at the mouth once he heard Cal turned her down. “I’m actually pretty busy this weekend, sorry, Er.” He shrugged. At least they were almost at the intersection. “Maybe another time, alright? See you at practice!” He said, turning for his bus stop.

He pressed his hands into his pockets as he waited. Erica Brown, huh? I mean, she was nice and all, but he kind of had his eye on someone. Maybe he could gently nudge her to one of his teammates. After all, she had given him those exercises that had unfucked his shoulder, he’d hate to see her unhappy.

Fumbling for his earbuds, he tried to forget about the encounter. It was just hard, you know? Whether he liked it or not, he was changing. All he could do was hope it was for the better. His grades were up, that was something, but he didn’t feel like he used to about frat parties and kin majors with bright eyes.

He turned up his music so he didn’t have to think about it.

The bus was quiet that night. It was usually welcome, not having to wait for a seat, but Calum was just in an edgy sort of mood. He could stand a little chaos. Maybe the frat party wouldn’t have been such a bad idea, after all.

But she was waiting for him.

Really, there was no contest.

His apartment was a messy little walkup a block from the bus stop, but tired as he was he could feel the bounce in his step returning. As he unlocked the door, he felt a little anticipation build.

The sound of the door and him toeing off his shoes announced his arrival. “Hi honey, welcome home.” He heard her drawl from the kitchen, and even though he knew she was joking he couldn’t help but smile. There was something really sweet about how she’d greet him like they were in I Love Lucy, like two kids playing house. Made him want to get domestic with her, dammit. It would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so damn good.

“Hi, honey,” He said, his own countersign, as he dropped his bag on the floor in the hall. She was at the kitchen table on her laptop, but she glanced over as he came up and gave her a quick one-armed hug. Well, he tried to keep it quick.

“Quesadillas are on the stove for you.” She said, leaning her head into his shoulder before he released. “Actually, you should probably flip them.”

Calum made himself turn to the stove so he doesn’t linger. “Coach says I should be getting more lean protein.”

“So get coach to make you dinner. These have peppers in them, they’re healthy.”

“They’re definitely not.” Calum said, flipping them with his fingers.

Behind him, he heard Y/N make a raspberry. God, she’s adorable. “How was sportsball?”

“Soccer was good. Would’ve been better if you were there to cheer me on.” He teased, turning around and leaning on the counter. He does this sometimes, flirts with Y/N to see if she notices. I mean, he knew she wouldn’t, but every time it gots his pulse up. Maybe now, maybe this time…

Y/N doesn’t look up. “As if I’d go out there and freeze my ass off for you.”

Apparently not.

“Break my heart.” He hummed. “What’re we watching tonight, anyways?”

Y/N finally turned to him, instead of her laptop. “Okay, so it’s definitely gotta be spooky. I was kind of thinking some B-horror? Or, like, a trashy movie from the 80s.”

Calum nodded thoughtfully, as if he could ever disagree with her. “They just put the original Halloween on Netflix.”

“That sounds really good, actually. Maybe you’re not just a pretty face.” Y/N teased, already headed to his room, since he had a double bed. It was comfier than the couch, she insisted. “I made you dinner so you have to make the popcorn!”

That evening, Calum tried to focus on Michael Myers. He really did. Jamie Lee Curtis was screaming her lungs out and he was really trying to respect that, but every time the score peaked he could see Y/N shift by his side and fuck, she was hypnotizing. Her toes curling in his sheets, pretending not to chew on one of her knuckles, trying to chat through the jump scares - she was the sweetest when she was pretending not to be afraid.

“- and, like, it’s my 9 am lecture, I’ve been awake for all of twenty minutes, and this guy sits down next to me like ‘hi’ and just keeps trying to start a conversation - asks me what year I’m in, like, my major - I dunno if he was flirting or not but like -”

“He was flirting.” Calum interrupted, watching her reflection in the screen.

“Yeah, I figured - oh, Jesus, God -” He felt her jump next to him - “- like, most people don’t talk to each other in biochem, it was deeply suspicious.” They watch Michael stab the boyfriend (Calum couldn’t remember his name) for a long moment. “Y’know, Paige thought we were dating for a while.”

Calum feels his heart pick up, and it’s not because of the slasher. “Well, this is technically Netflix and chill.” He said, slinging his arm around her shoulders so it seems like a joke. Unless she’s into it, of course.

“Yeah, but like - you don’t think that’s funny?”

Calum shifted a little, stomach curling. Was it really that ridiculous to her that they could be together? He had to get out of here, get himself under control before he said something stupid. His hand tapped the spacebar, making Y/N jump beside him. “I guess. Gotta pee. Be right back.”

He was just hoping to get to the bathroom so he could collect himself, maybe text Ashton about it, but Y/N grabbed his arm as he swung his legs off the bed. Sitting on the edge, he glances back at her. He could never fight his way out of her grip. “Are you okay?” She asked. “Cal.”

Calum didn’t have to say anything, and he knew that. But he couldn’t live like this forever. “I mean,” he shrugged, “it’s just, uh, it’s not super funny to me. That I couldn’t be with you.”

He saw her face change as it hit her. “Jesus, you’re seriously just realizing now?” He said, before he could stop himself.

That was mean. He could see Y/N’s eyes darting, she was just looking at his sheets, trying to process, and he had snapped at her. Before he could apologize - “Excuse me, lots of people watch movies with their friends.”

“No, friends don’t do this kind of shit, Y/N. They don’t - they don’t pass up on dates and house parties to cuddle in bed and watch movies with their friends. Look, I’m - this isn’t how I wanted to tell you-”

“Is that why you let me move in with you?”

“No. No.” Calum said, putting his hand over hers before she could pull away. “When we moved in, at first, I had a stupid little crush on you, I thought it was gonna go away once we started getting in each other’s way, and I was wrong. I wouldn’t have - Y/N, I would never try to trap you into anything.” Some of the wideness of her eyes faded as he said that. Good. He didn’t want - this shouldn’t scare her, or hurt her. He didn’t want it to be like this, fuck -

She tugs her hand away anyways. “Okay. I - so, you want -”

“Anything.” He said. “Since it’s out there… I wanna be with you. I don’t want this - this connection we have to end. We could have a love like this, you know? It could be that easy.”

He saw her rub at her face, reading i’m too tired for this shit. He wants to be able to reach out and pull her close so she can relax in his arms, but he doesn’t move. It doesn’t mean anything if she doesn’t want it, too. “Cal, I- you gotta give me a minute with this.”

“Tell me you don’t feel anything for me and it’s forgotten.” He said, too quickly. He just wanted her happy.

“Even if I do, we’re roommates. What if we break up and it’s shitty? It’d be so hard to sort out and - like, I don’t know. I’m sorry, you know I’m bad at this, I just, I don’t know what to do.”

Calum did. “I’ll give you a little space.” He said gently, standing up from the bed and pulling out his phone. “I’ll spend the night at Ash’s, you can - “

“Wait, you don’t have to. I’ll get out of your room if you want, you don’t have to leave.” She said, grabbing the laptop and sliding off the other side. “I’ll go.”

“Nah. I gotta get some air.” Calum sighed, quickly letting Ash know he was coming to his. It was still pregaming hours, they’d be at his place. “And after what I dropped on you, I should back off a little.”

Y/N’s eyes were wide, and she clung to her laptop like a life raft. “Okay.” She said, after a long moment. They were both hovering by the door, too nervous to move back into each other’s orbits.

“Okay.” She said again, like she had made a choice. “Just - text me if you’re staying over or coming home, alright?” Calum knew he’d be staying over, but he nodded anyways. At least she wanted him to talk to her.

Y/N took a deep breath; he could hear it going through her. Then, so fast he couldn’t have moved if he wanted to, she gave him a hug before darting into the hall.

Calum could hear her footsteps all the way down the hall into her own room. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, until he heard her door close.

Well. At least now she knew.

Calum shrugged his jacket on in a fog and made sure to lock the door after him as he headed out.

He hadn’t been kidding; he’d give her anything she asked. If that was just roommates, fine. If that meant she gave him a chance - that would be all he needed, he was sure. He knew her so well - that was why he was in love with her, after all.

@therainydays4 @babylon-uncrowned @plainwhiteluke

#anonymous #oofa doofa #sorry this took so long #had to get it right #bestfriend!calum #calum hood blurb #ch blurb #my writing #requested

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vmheadquarters · 6 years

Text

Happy Birthday @anilcadz91!

You wanted a happier ending (and a happy ending ;) to the scene above and, since the librarians think you should get what you want on your special day, our very own @cheshirecatstrut has made your wish come true. We hope you have a very happy birthday!

When Logan emerges from the Anthropology building holding Dick in a laughing headlock, only to lose his smile upon spotting Veronica? She knows right away something’s wrong. Even at his most sophomore-year-hateful he flirted and posed, mirth, lust and anger twining in his dark, compelling eyes.

She plays the odd moment off with panache, if she does say so herself, joining forces with him to mock Dick; but his disinterest in banter makes her stomach squirm. Logan’s fascination with V has always been so consuming, she’s never once considered it might wane.

But she’s Veronica Mars and she doesn’t back down—so after Dick gets a clue and wanders off to harass Lilith House, she takes the bull by the horns. “You weren’t outside my criminology class,” she accuses, going for playful. Tugs him closer by his overlarge button-down. “I waited.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, lackluster, and turns his face away.

The sick feeling in her stomach becomes an uncomfortable knot…he’s not playing along with her attempt to charm. “Is something wrong?” she asks, because how can she not?

He transfers his focus to his shoe. Studies it intently for a moment before glancing up from under his brow to meet her eye. “I can’t…” he begins, hesitant, in a defeated tone; then stops, exasperated, when her phone rings.

Holding up a ‘wait one second’ finger, V frowns at the display, thankful for a reprieve. “It’s my dad,” she says, trying to make ‘relieved’ sound ‘apologetic’. “Hang on to that thought for just one sec.”

Logan spins in an exasperated circle but nods, and she turns her back, moves a few steps away. “What’s up?” she chirps into the receiver, sounding way more chipper than she feels.

“Veronica, are you anywhere near Dean O’Dell’s office?” Dad’s clearly harassed, and also hard to hear over the traffic noise in the background.

“I could be,” she says. “Are you standing on the side of the highway?”

Dad sighs. “More or less. Look, he’s not answering my calls. Can you swing by and ask if he’ll meet at two instead of noon? Some fan of our work slashed my tires while I was running down a clue, and I need to get a tow and have them replaced.”

“Nobody appreciates genius anymore.” She checks her watch. “I’ll do it now, and then send you this mysterious type of confirmation message called a “text’.”

Dad fake-laughs and hangs up, and Veronica spins to find Logan watching impatiently, hands on hips. “Sorry, can’t talk after all, emergency,” she says, running the words together and holding up the phone in explanation. Walks quickly backwards, because she does NOT want to hear whatever he plans to say. “Dinner later? Student union, burgers, you, me, seven PM?”

“Veronica…” he begins, running agitated hands through his hair, but she just cuts him off with an, “Excellent! I’ll pencil you in!” and scurries away, heart pounding.

At least he doesn’t try to stop her, which is great, she decides. Because whatever was about to happen seemed big, yet she’s got no idea what his DEAL is. The last time they had anything like a fight, she told him she loved him and promised they were OK. What more does he WANT? Does he think those kind of words come easy to her? Surely he gets her instinctive need to flee any interaction that resembles ‘fraught’?

Logan should be cosseting her fears, after last week’s massive display of vulnerability. Not sulking like she stuffed his childhood teddy bear in the blender and hit ‘puree’.

Normally, Veronica can admit, she takes Logan’s loyalty for granted, no matter how insecure about her sex appeal she sometimes feels. She’s always assumed as long as her fidelity matches his, she’s the one who’d have to walk away. The idea that there IS a line, and she’s got no idea how she crossed it…well, she’s supposed to meet Wallace and Mac for lunch. And she’s clueless at the moment as to how she’ll choke down food.

She hikes across campus and finds the Dean at his desk, fiddling with a lukewarm pizza like he has no appetite either. Maybe dissatisfaction’s in the air today, like a virus. She passes Dad’s message, and he just says, “Sure, why not? It’s not like I have any social life or plans.”

This is clearly an invitation to probe further, but Veronica’s got her own problems. So she just says, “Thanks, I’ll let him know!” and heads over to the food court, where she greets her friends with decently-faked good cheer. But she’s so fidgety and indecisive in line, even Mac notices. “Veronica,” she says, after womaning up and ordering the fettucine. ‘Either you’ve got a bee in your shoe, or you’re upset and trying to hide it. What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, curse you and your new intimidating social skills.” Veronica tries a playful foot stomp, then abandons pretense with a sigh. “I’m fine, really. It’s just that Logan’s brooding is off the charts today, and I have no idea why.”

Mac looks at Wallace, brows raised. “But…isn’t Logan always brooding? I thought that was his trademark.”

“Nah, this is different.” Wallace, accepts a double helping of pudding and licks a spill off his thumb. “He was doing the thing in sociology yesterday where he hides his hands in his sleeves, and twirls a pencil instead of listening. He only acted like that in high school when he was planning to ditch for a month or get arrested.”

Veronica and Mac both stare, because how perceptive, and Wallace rolls his eyes. “What? I notice things. I’m told that’s a GOOD quality in a guy whose best friends are girls.”

Veronica opens her mouth to probe further, but at this inopportune moment Piz appears, bubbling over with oblivious excitement. “Hey gang, what’s the word? Is it avuncular?”

“No?” he continues, cutting across Mac’s attempt to reply with a chortle at his own joke. “Just a shot in the dark. Hey, set your dials to KRUFF tonight. I mean, we’re already moving on as to what to do with the whole Greek Row ghost town next summer. I’ve got this one guy coming on the show—wants to turn it into an ROTC training—“

“Jesus Piz, do you EVER stop talking?” Veronica snaps, temper combusting. “Seriously, how do you manage to interview people when you can’t shut up long enough to listen to answers?”

Tossing her tray down she storms away, ignoring the concerned stares that follow her. And okay, maybe she overreacted a tad—Piz is harmless, just super-nerdily enthusiastic about radio and his own opinions. But she’s been unenthused for a while, frankly, about having to share Wallace with Chatty Cathy. Especially at moments like this, when Wallace has data about CRITICAL ISSUES, but she can’t get a word in edgewise.

She’s almost out of the food court when she passes Dick, engrossed in ominously-excited conversation with Charleston Chu; the phrases ‘big-ass tires’, ‘drive right onto the quad’ and ‘group moon’ are mentioned, all of which inspire terror. So she has no qualms about interrupting with, “Dick, I’ll give you a cookie if you quit plotting to get expelled for five minutes, and answer some questions. And by cookie, I mean I won’t turn you in to the Dean.”

Dick heaves an over-exaggerated sigh but gestures to a table, shooing Charleston away. “This isn’t you hitting on me, right? Because Logan may have finally located his balls and taken away your whip, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be the next gimp in line.”

“Dick,” she says, sitting, and watches him follow suit, “and I mean this sincerely. The idea of smacking you down deeply appeals, but NEVER in that context.”

“So what do you want, then?” He takes a long swallow from the tall-boy he’s holding, in defiance of the Union’s no-booze rule. “Connor Larkin’s phone number?”

I already HAVE a boyfriend, Veronica would like to say, and I’ve got no interest in another. But clearly Dick thinks she DOESN’T have Logan, which means he believes a dumping was planned. Ergo, the squirmy feeling in her gut’s on point, as usual, and now she needs to turn Dick upside down and shake him for DETAILS. “I just need to know why Logan’s mad,” she says. “That’s all. Just what exactly, WAS the final straw? Because we’ve been getting along fine, as far as I know, and I don’t understand his issue.”

“Here’s a hint: you’re psycho.” Dick shrugs. “It’s not like we paint each others’ nails and gossip in our free time, Ron-Rons. All I remember is, he rushed home from dinner a week ago and sat staring at his phone for half an hour. And ever since, when your name comes up he changes the subject. Which, no offense, but I’ve been praying for this day since you two started dating. So excuse me while I celebrate with a twelve-pack, then show those angry feminists how the Pi Sigs get things DONE.”

Veronica scowls as he leaves and pulls out her cell, a suspicion beginning to coalesce. Pages through her call list and determines that yes, the last time Logan reached out was six days ago, at dinner time. Which is about five-and-a-half days longer than he usually goes without calling. But she failed to notice, what with the rape case, and three tests this week, and the coffee-stained stacks of unfiled cases that spilled all over Dad’s office…

Casting her mind back, she counts. Six days ago, she went to the Lilith House and confronted Nish, then learned about Patrice Pitrelli. She remembers being upset for hours, after, because those women cast HER as the villain, when THEY were faking rapes to sabotage a frat (not to mention assaulting frat members). She remembers buying comfort food, because nothing helps a girl shake off gender-traitor accusations better than pasta. And she remembers eating at a table by herself, because she just didn’t have it in her to deal with humanity. She got several calls that night, while wolfing down spaghetti and…

Sent them straight to voice mail.

Her jaw clenches then, because she knows what happened, and it’s just so LOGAN. Of course he’d call her from the food court while he was also in the food court, and say, “Want to see a magic trick? Bet I can guess where you are.” And of COURSE if he watched her hit ignore, his pride would be hurt. He might even assume she didn’t love him, because Logan Echolls, under all the snark and smarm, is a surprisingly delicate flower.

Jesus, he needs to get a grip. But as she pages through the list of ‘recents’ she has to admit…she’s been ignoring his calls a LOT.

Shit. Veronica lets her head fall back, stares at the sandwich somehow glued with old mayonnaise to the industrial-tile ceiling. The only thing she hates more than admitting she’s wrong is apologizing. But if she wants to keep her boyfriend, which she has to confess she does, even if said boyfriend is a DUMBASS…is there a way she could convince him, maybe, without having to do both?

XXXXX

When Veronica makes it back to the food court that night, Logan’s waiting at their ‘special’ table (which she knows, even though he’s never said so, is his do-over for banning her from his high school lunch group). He’s already purchased burgers and bottled sodas, plus the extra serving of fries she likes, and even managed to locate a bottle of ketchup. But instead of eating, he’s twiddling his straw with barely-contained angst, and Full Emo staring at the wall. She’s come up with a plan in the nick of time.

Plunking her bag down by a chair, she says cheerily, “Wow, if THIS doesn’t hit the spot after a hard day at the office!” and sits.

He half-smiles, trying not to succumb to her charm. “I figured you’d be hungry.” Looks sideways, takes a deep breath, then leans earnestly towards her. “But listen, before we eat. Veronica…”

She holds up a hand. “Logan, I know there’s something you want to tell me. And you can, I promise. But first, I have something I need to tell you.”

He nods, slumping back, and she says, “I recognize things have been difficult between us lately—for me, because this rape case is stressful, and…not bringing back the best memories. I’m guessing you feel the same. And even though we talked about you reforming and me acting unnaturally, which I swear, I’m trying to do? Angst makes my patience with people…more limited. I’m pretty sure, in light of the fight we had last week, I’m not holding up my end of the bargain. So I’ve decided to take steps.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he lifts his brows, uncharacteristically non-verbal. She forges ahead, though, because this feels like her last, best chance. “One of the ways you’ve been more open this semester is by giving me your room key. And I loved that gesture, but I can’t reciprocate, because you know my dad would blow a gasket if I gave you a key to our apartment. So I thought about what I might do instead that would be in the same spirit and…I need you to call me.”

“Call you?” His brows inch higher. “From across the table?”

“Yes,” she says. “Pull out your phone and call me right now. It’ll make sense in a minute, I promise.”

He sighs elaborately but does as she asks, thumbing open his phone and reluctantly pressing what she knows for a fact is speed dial number one. Removing her own cell from her pocket, she displays it with a Vanna White wave. Sets it on the table as the introductory trumpets of ‘Ain’t No Other Man’ by Xtina begin to play. Logan barks out a laugh, like he can’t help himself, and she makes a production of pretend shock before picking it up. Adopting a sultry expression, she coos, “Hello?”

Fighting a slow-growing smile, he says, “Who is this? Because I thought I was calling Veronica ‘all work, no play and DEFINITELY no cramping my style’ Mars.”

“She’s not here right now.” Veronica crosses her legs, doing her best hardboiled sexpot. “The only Veronica at THIS number is the one who gave her boyfriend a special ringtone. So even when she’s had it up to HERE with humanity, and would rather cut off her ears than make conversation, she’ll know it’s too important a call to miss.”

His gaze softens as understanding dawns. He unfolds one arm from his self-protective stance to pick up the straw, and taps it, musing, on the tabletop. “You mean there are two of you at large on the Hearst campus? Jesus, Dick will never sleep again.”

She snorts her contempt and indifference, breaking character, and his smile fractionally widens. So she forges determinedly ahead. “Since it’s you, I have a few minutes to talk, before I bolt my dinner and pull an all-nighter for a midterm. So why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind? Let me relieve you of all your troubles and cares. I promise not to lecture or judge, much.”

“Well that’s new. Hmmm…I guess I just want to say…” he pauses, the asshole, to consider—not even potentially-relationship-ending-conflict can dent Logan Echolls’ instinct towards drama. V clenches her jaw so hard it hurts, but manages to hold the smiling pose. “That this fake voice is doing it for me in ways I’ve never previously considered possible. And my ringtone’s pretty bangin’…although those trumpets will startle the shit out of anyone within a ten-foot radius.”

“Maybe I should have chosen ‘Hips Don’t Lie’?” she murmurs, as relief floods through her. His smile breaks through finally, FINALLY, like the sun emerging from a cloud.

“For us, that seems appropriate,” he says, and hangs up his phone. She slides hers shut too, and they stare at each other across the table.

She thinks he’ll want to discuss this almost-miss they just had, because Logan never shirks the tough subjects. But, “So where are you planning to study?” is all he asks, picking up his burger and sinking in teeth. Like he suddenly has his appetite back. Like all the tension and distance she’s fretted about today just vanished into the mist. “Because Dick’s been up to no good, planning something doubtless-embarrassing with the Pi Sigs, so my place is quiet. And, you know, you have a key.”

“As a matter of fact, I DO.” She unwraps her own burger, the knot in her stomach finally unraveling. “But I have to warn you—cramming for tests kicks my stress level up to eleven. Any idea how I might relax, once I’m done, so I can walk into that exam room tomorrow with a clear head?”

“I’ll give it some thought.” He pauses to sip his Coke. “Considering how stressed you GET, though, my plan will need to be exhaustive. So we should start as soon as you have time.”

She grins, chewing, as his feet surround hers under the table. Reflects that Dick will have to wait in vain for his months-long wish to come true. And Piz can find another sucker to listen to his ninety-percent-Piz radio show. Because she’ll be…otherwise occupied.

As for Wallace, he deserves a batch of snickerdoodles, soon-ish; his gossipy ways just saved her ass, and should be encouraged with sugar. But right now, Veronica decides, she needs to concentrate on the care and maintenance of what’s hers. So she twines her fingers through Logan’s while he talks, and debates which stress-relieving techniques to employ.

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