#we interrupt your usual programming to bring you whatever this is

[casualtydept]

my emo vampire gf who works at an internet cafe

[lsunstreakerl]

okay so kink prompt:

We’ve seen a lot of bottom max (and also I see you omegaverse max, my beloved) but could we get top max anywhere? I honestly don’t care who it’s with but I love your writing of anything and I would love to see your interpretation of this in any direction you so choose.

you know when you have a group project and there's one person where you have to hold their hand the entire time? that's this. 1.4k words, Max POV

this was a bit interesting to work with- I had a few thoughts on it, but ultimately chose the direction I did because it answered your ask while still feeling somewhat in character for the max's I write. (pathetic and whiny, generally)

explicit due to being a kink prompt. exactly what it says on the tin.

pairings: max verstappen/charles leclerc

relevant heads up: dubious consent due to fucky FIA testing, fuck or lose your job, slight derogatory terms/humiliation

You've got to be kidding me."

Max stares blankly at the FIA official, waiting for the rest of the joke, or the prank, or whatever-

That can't possibly be it.

She shrugs.

"It's part of the physical readiness program- they want a hormone report, and also a dynamics label. Can't have either of those until,"

She makes a little seesawing gesture with her hand.

"-we see you all both ways, yes? The driver you're with is completely randomized, all you have to do is have penetrative sex. It's important for this that you're penetrating them. We have you on the schedule for the reverse on Wednesday."

They're scheduling sex now. They're scheduling them to have sex. Max must be going insane. He's not even- what if he goes on the other side of the door and it's someone he can't stand? He still has to fuck them? That's a terrible system.

Ugh, and it's happening to him later in the week.

He snatches his paperwork off of the counter, stalking into the small changing room to set most of his things down. He's not allowed to take a pill, has to have a condom on, and must successfully penetrate a partner to climax.

What the fuck.

His things are shoved in a locker, leaving him just in his boxers and a pair of sandals as he takes a deep breath, steps through the smaller unlabeled door into a room he has a feeling he's not going to like much.

Please don't be Lewis.

He cracks a cautious eye open.

Charles is glaring at him from the bed.

That is... both better and worse.

Better, because it's Charles- he's easy on the eyes, and it's not like he and Max haven't snuck into the occasional closet over the years, fumbling hands under sweaty suits.

Worse because it's Charles. He and Max have never actually had sex, mostly because Max privately thinks they're not compatible in bed. As in, they both bottom.

Max opens his mouth, but Charles interrupts him.

"I do not like being on the bottom, so we need to get this over with, yes? I prepped already, so-"

He snaps his fingers at Max, completely unaware to the way he's thrown Max entirely for a loop.

"Wait- wait what?"

Max isn't even hard.

Charles narrows his eyes at him, briefly flicking down to clearly look at his dick before he looks back up.

"Well that's interesting. They probably could have just skipped the testing with you, yes? Is it true the garage fucks you every year you win?"

Max's face violently heats, eyes going wide.

"Where did you- Nevermind. Not the point. I do not like this stupid testing thing just as much as you, but I am clearly-"

Max makes a face. It's not that he doesn't like to have sex, he just can't get it up for the fucking FIA.

Charles sighs, put out.

"What, you need a blowjob first?"

Max isn't even sure that would help at this point- having sex like this, somewhat public, far out of his usual comfort zone and and dynamic- he'd need to be in a floatier headspace than he is right now. He can't exactly get there, and it's not like he can stick head back in the hallway, ask them really nicely if they could please bring GP in to give Max very clear instructions.

Yeah, that's not happening.

Charles is eyeing him, annoyed but also intrigued, which is not a combination Max likes on him.

"Oh, I get it. You are- you bottom."

Charles' head tilts, eyes wandering down Max's body.

"And that's probably it, yes? You don't even know what to do with your cock, do you?"

The flash of embarrassment that splinters through Max is unmistakable, and Charles has accidentally- or maybe on purpose- found one of Max's hot buttons.

He can start to feel it, hot under his skin.

"Charles-"

Charles hums, swinging his legs to the side of the bed.

"Come here Max. I want this over with, and so do you, so what's going to happen is that you are going to suck my cock, because I think that is going to make you hard, and then you're going to fuck me. Got it?"

Max's heart is caught in his throat, legs moving faster than the rest of him as he drops to his knees in front of Charles.

Immediately there's a hand in his hair, and then Charles is pressing his half hard cock past Max's lips, heavy on his tongue.

This Max can do- his brain might not be with the program but his body knows, jaw dropping wider as he starts licking and sucking.

Charles' fingers tighten in his hair.

"You definitely let your garage fuck you, you are too good at this not to-"

Max hums, slides further down to take more of Charles into his mouth. It's easy to lose himself in it- he's got what the garage fondly refers to as a raging oral fixation.

There's a certain headiness to it, Charles thick in his mouth, Max licking precome from his dick. He's not even thinking about the FIA anymore, just thinking about him, on his knees, sucking dick.

Charles gives him a few more minutes before tugging at his hair.

"Fuck, Max- off. I'm going to come if you keep doing that."

Right- they have to come from the actual penetrative part. Because this is for the FIA.

Max makes a face as he pulls off, can't resist a few more small kitten licks, Charles' hand gripping his hair by the roots as he drags him up onto the bed.

Charles drops his legs open on the bed.

"Come on- I know you don't even know how to use your cock, because you clearly prefer being fucked, but you're going to fuck me, and I will walk you through it, yes?"

Max's head is still a bit fuzzy from sucking dick. It always does it for him, sends up him just high enough to lose some self restraint. He slides his boxers off, putting the condom on, and then he's kneeling between Charles legs.

He hesitates.

"Useless fucking bottom."

Charles' fingers are back in his hair, his other hand reaching down between them, spreading himself open.

"Your dick, in me, the sooner the better. I cannot dumb it down any further."

Max jerks forward, and then Charles is using his hand to guide him, and Max pushes forward- Charles is tight and hot around him, a sensation Max isn't used to. He bows his head for a moment.

"Don't even think about coming Verstappen, not until we get this fucking test over with."

Max whines, doesn't even think about it as his hips jerk forward. Charles makes a punched out noise underneath him.

"God, your cock is wasted on you. Come on, fuck me like you mean it."

Max doesn't know how.

Charles groans, tugging Max's head down.

"...everything myself- Slow strokes- yes, just like that, good job-"

Max's hips stutter at the praise. He can do that, he can be good- whatever Charles likes, he'll do more of that.

"Of course you have a praise kink. Why wouldn't you. Good, Max, like that- now angle up a bit-"

Max does, and Charles gasps, going tight around him.

"Fuck- yes, more, do that more-"

Max has a target now- keeps his movements steady and smooth, angles to hit Charles' prostate with each fuck of his hips. He tries not to get jealous, focuses instead on being good.

Charles is getting close, fingers pulling at Max's hair.

"Okay, okay- I am going to come- fuck me however you want Max, just make sure you get there-"

Max fucks into him twice more before Charles' back arches, crying out as he cums across his stomach, and then Max is changing his angle again, trying to reach his own.

It's not- it's not right, not what Max is used to, but Charles is so tight around him, shivering with aftershocks, and Max only lasts a little bit longer, coming with a whine as he pulls out.

Charles' hand weakly pats at the side of his face.

"You are completely useless with that thing. Good job."

Max ties off the condom. He doesn't feel satisfied- just feels a bit like he's wasted an orgasm.

"I hope they are fucking happy, wankers."

Charles snorts, pulling on his own boxers.

"Probably not. I hope I get you again later this week- show you how you're supposed to fuck someone."

Max deliberately ignores the way the thought makes his ears go red.

"But seriously- does your whole garage fuck you? How did you even all agree to that-"

"I am leaving, this was terrible and I hope we don't do it again, bye."

[theauthorsarchive]

Statement #10:The Author and The Clown

[CLICK] 

Testing, testing, one, two,... ah who cares. We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you your new host, Klovn real name don't worry about it. You may ask what happened to the other clown, well don't fret dear listener he's simply tied up in a chair across from me. Oh and I think it's about time to wake him up. 

SLAP

Zaine

Ah what the, K-Klovn?

Klovn

Howdy Stammer.

Zaine

We-where's Ivan.

Klovn

I got rid of him.

Zaine

D-did you uh k-kill him.

Klovn

No, I wish but it's hard to kill a ghost. 

Zaine

S-so what now?

Klovn

What I do now is all up to you. 

Zaine

I-i feel weird.

Klovn

Don't worry about that yet I'll explain it to you in time.

Zaine

C-cool…I guess…earlier you s-said you needed me?

Klovn 

Maybe I did and maybe I didn't. But let's say I did, why I need you is simple, you have power that you don't even know you have. 

Zaine

Wha-what do you mean?

Klovn

You're the author, you write the books. Now the books have the power to do literally anything. Now usually you are simply a vessel for stories to be made. But once in a who knows how long, you can make up your own stories. 

Zaine

I can m-make up anything.

Klovn

Don't get too excited, it takes years to master and that's if you don't go insane. Oh yeah I forgot to mention try taking drugs it should cancel out the madness. Schizophrenia meds help the most. 

Zaine

How do you know all this?

Klovn 

I've been waiting a long time for an author like you.

Zaine

Like me how. 

Klovn

One so close within reach.

Zaine

………

Klovn 

Let me explain, ahem you have been chosen by our god The Stranger. Your close proximity means we are connected, meaning I can find you anytime I want. 

Zaine

What is The Stranger?

Klovn

Crap, how do I explain this…so imagine there's an octopus and it has seventeen arms. Now imagine each arm has its own personality and is also a god. Each arm works together but also hates each other. They all want to be free from the octopus and become their own god. Now the one we work for is The Stranger, it represents the fear of the uncanny and the unknown. Now it's strange for an author to be under The Stranger because of how secretive it is. It likes to keep itself hidden and protected. So someone who spills the beans and also distributes said beans is not in its usual agenda. But somehow you're here and writing…have you written a book? 

Zaine

O-one but i d-don't know what happened to it. 

Klovn

You're a natural already. You see most people want their own author, why? Simple he who controls the books controles the power. The power to reap,to cause chaos, to do whatever you damn well please. But sadly authors are a dying breed usually committing suicide. But authors thankfully do not die so easily.

Zaine

W-why are you s-staring at me like that?

Klovn

You want to know the reason why you feel so weird. You died.

Zaine

B-b-but that's not p-p-possible I'm still here. 

Klovn

Are you? Let's test that theory.

Shink

Zaine 

Ow what did you do? Wait, that didn't hurt. 

Klovn

What's this I spot? Stuffing for a Teddy stuffed in your flesh. 

Zaine

What have you done to me?

Klovn

Bububup it's not what I did to you, it's what you have done to yourself. 

Zaine

I-i did this b-b-b-bullshit. 

Klovn 

Well technically it's in the perks of your new job. You see authors are few and far between specially hand picked. So in order to keep you from an untimely demise, sacrifices must be made. 

Zaine

So you're s-saying what t-that i'm turning into a toy. 

Klovn

Maybe…or maybe not that's the brilliance of The Stranger it's like a box of chocolates. A messed up, uncanny, fucked up box of chocolates. Now here's the thing: I don't like chocolates. 

Zaine

W-wait you want me t-to somehow write a way out.

Klovn

Ding ding ding. You see, I've been a loyal servant to I Do Not Know You for years. And I. Want. Out.

Zaine

W-what's in it for me. 

Klovn

A businessman I see. Well i'm willing to one not kill you and two let others not kill you for the time being.

Zaine

So I scratch your back, you scratch mine. 

Klovn

More or less but yeah that's the gist Stammer.

Knock Knock Knock

Stacy

Hey Zaine i just woke up what's for…clown? 

Stamp Stamp Stamp Stamp Stamp

Klovn

Whos that?

Zaine

My roommate.

Stamp Stamp Stamp Stamp Stamp

Stacy 

Eat It Clown! 

Chick Chick 

Klovn

What the fuuu-

Bang

[CLICK] 

[CLICK]

This is Zaine ahem it has been about thirty minutes since the madness that was Klovns explanation. Stacy is currently observing me for my ‘protection’ say hi Shrimp.

Stacy

Fuck off.

Isn't she a peach? Well Klovn is also still here somewhere. After Stacy shot him he let out a scream, that was somewhere between a music box and a child screaming, and went downstairs we haven't checked but periodically we hear calliope music. There's no sign of Ivan, we looked up the name an-

Stacy

I looked up the name, you can't do research for the life of you. 

Right Shrimp looked up the name and what we found wasn't a lot. But the name Kost was directly tied to a Czech company called Kost a Spol. They deal with the preservations of cultures and knowledge. Recently they had a controversy with forcefully extracting sacred information from a tribe in Alaska. Sigh maybe I shouldn't be an author, maybe i can stop, hehehe no I cant I dont have a choice do I. This sucks. 

[CLICK]

[strykingshot]

Just another day at the office

“Kat, you have a department meeting today.”

“Damn it Jenkins, there went my excuse of plausible deniability for skipping,” Kat grumbled as she pushed herself away from the blueprint she was going over to head over to the locker room to change out of her usual work overalls and into a clean pressed dress shirt and slacks. As she attempted to brush away the knots in her ponytail she mentally prepared herself for the next hour and a half of nothing but sitting and listening to the other department’s pitches on new tech or automation that'll fall to her to assist in developing. The only one she really paid attention to was Reeve since he was the only one who seemed to appreciate the work the teams she would assign to him did.

By the time she stepped into the meeting room she was the last to arrive with only 3 minutes before the meeting started. She ignored the judging stare of the president as she gave a polite nod to Reeve as she took her usual seat between him and Hojo. As soon as the meeting began Kat took out her pocket notebook and began writing any ideas or prototypes the other departments were working on and was already planning ahead for when the requests for assistance came in.

Heidegger implementing new face tracking cameras through the building? She'll assign Jeralt and his team to assist in installation and program upgrades. Hojo is beginning a project that requires vehicles to transport animal subjects? Cortez and his team specialize in metalwork and could easily make cages strong enough to keep in whatever Hojo is bringing in.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the grating sound of manicured nails tapping on the polished wood table. Kat looked up to see Scarlet smirking at her like a cat that got the cream. Knowing her, she probably asked Kat a question knowing she tuned out everyone in these meetings unless the president says her name.

“I'm sorry, could you repeat that?” She asked, holding back from rolling her eyes when Scarlet’s smirk just widened.

“I said I was just approved to begin testing a new weapon modification for our troops. I'm requesting you personally oversee the development of training bots that'll withstand the damage of my prototypes.”

Of course she would request her personally, she'd take any chance to remind her that while she was officially a department head, she wasn't a director like the others and was basically their personal errand girl.

“Unfortunately Scarlet, I am already in the middle of working with Reeve on his restoration project. I can assign a team that specializes in ballistics to work on the development of your request until I am finished.”

“Oh please,” Scarlet said, physically waving away Kat’s statement with a wave of her hand. “A few rickety buildings can wait a few months to be taken care of. We have more important matters to attend to.”

Kat couldn't keep the glare she shot Scarlet hidden as she was ready to stand up and tell Scarlet where she could stick her weapon prototype but was stopped by Reeve placing a hand on her shoulder. She could see in his eyes that while he wanted to protest Scarlet as well, he knew both of them would be outvoted when the President gave his approval of Scarlet's request for Kat's aid. As the meeting came to a close, Kat quickly put away her notebook and made her way to the elevator to return to her department. Unfortunately it seemed fate wanted to twist the knife as Scarlet joined her in the elevator.

“That was a cute attempt to bite the hand that feeds, little puppy. Unfortunately, you seem to forget little puppies don't get more than the table scraps.” She smirked, waiting for Kat to take her bait. Unfortunately Kat was silent through the whole trip until the elevator reached Scarlet’s floor. Before the door could open, Kat reached out and held down the button to keep the doors closed.

“It's cute that you think I'm one of your flunkies that'll crumple with just a few insults. It really shows you've never tried this with someone from the slums.” Scarlet raised an eyebrow as Kat smirked, leaning against the elevator wall and tapping her blunted and dirt encrusted fingernails against the metal wall in a parody of her tapping earlier.

“And that's another thing. You see, I worked hard to get where I am now. I may not be a director like you but I sure had hell have more influence than you with the staff around here. Which is why I know you can't do shit when I tell you that the difference between you and me is while I'm on my knees fixing the shit everyone in this company likes to break, you're on your knees making sure you keep your position in this company.”

Kat grinned as she watched Scarlet’s face turn as red as her name as she let the doors open and watched the furious woman storm out of the elevator.

“Mark my words Stryker, I’ll have your job for this insolence.” Scarlet growled as the elevator doors closed, leaving the last image she saw of Kat was her flipping the woman off. As the elevator continued its descent to her floor she took out her phone and made a call.

“Hey Terry, how's watching everyone like a creep?” She teasingly joked with the security guard that was working in the security office today. “Listen, Scarlet had a dress malfunction in executive elevator car C and I'd hate for the video to be leaked online. Can you do me a favor and clear the tape of the last five minutes?”

She smirked when she heard the sound of a keyboard typing and a confirmation from Terry the footage had been cleared. “You're the best, I'll be sure to stop by later with lunch for you guys, just message me what you guys want and I'll get it.”

Kat chuckled to herself as she stepped out of the elevator and headed to the locker room to change. Of course Scarlet would bring up what she said to the president and he would investigate her claim but without evidence all they would see is Kat making a call to keep the decency of a fellow coworker. With how much her department had improved under her supervision, the president would see the cost of replacing her not worth the effort and dismiss the claim. When Jenkins saw Kat grinning after coming back from a department meeting he let out a sigh, mentally preparing for another visit from internal affairs about another false claim of insubordination.

[neopuppy]

Swim (M)

Preview: “You haven’t seen Jungwoo since before he left, right?” Sungchan inquires, turning to face you.

“Ah..” you begin to nod. Chest tightening, recalling the vivid memory. Sneaking out late the night before Jungwoo would depart to study abroad. “I never seem to be around when he’s come home for a visit.”

Sungchan grins, nudging his elbow into yours. “It’s almost like you’re purposely avoiding him.”

You let out a laugh, pushing the lump in your throat away with a heavy swallow. Avoiding Jungwoo? After confessing a crush you’d compressed for years? The confession he thanked you for before saying goodbye? The cringe worthy memory that constantly replayed in your mind for two years? You weren’t simply avoiding Jungwoo. You were dead set to forget his existence.

Pairing: Jungwoo x female reader

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: best friends older brother AU, brothers JungChan, pwp, mutual pining, fluff, M/F, one shot

Smut Warning: oral(receiving), choking, sensory deprivation, unprotected sex(the usual)

IB: Chase Atlantic- Swim

a/n: Jungwoo month🥳💞

“Ooh! Banana kick!!” Sungchan rushes toward the kitchen table ready to abolish a bag of his favorite snacks. Tossing a few pieces of candy near you as you take a seat. “Choco Milkis, you love those don’t you?”

“Don’t eat those. I bought those for your brother.” Sungchan’s mom smacks his grubby hands away from a basket of treats. A mixture of candy, snacks, flavored milks.

“I can’t have just one?!” He talks back, earning a light hit to his shoulder.

“You know he barely gets to come home. The foods are different in America. All he whines about when he calls is how much he craves fresh Maeuntang.” She sets down a bag overflowing with groceries, smiling ear to ear. “Mom’s cooking is the best, so he says.”

“It’s true. He’s crazy for studying abroad. I won’t even bother applying to Uni over 20 minutes away.” Sungchan smirks. Batting his eyelashes for some favoritism.

His mom stares down with a knowing grin, reaching for a pack of sweets to toss his way.

“These charming boys I’ve raised so well.” She coos, scrunching up her nose. The upper half of her face resembles the older of her sons more so. Reminiscent traces in her sharp eyes and high cheeks.

“You haven’t seen Jungwoo since before he left, right?” Sungchan inquires, turning to face you.

“Ah..” you begin to nod. Chest tightening, recalling the vivid memory. Sneaking out late the night before Jungwoo would depart to study abroad. “I never seem to be around when he’s come home for a visit.”

Sungchan grins, nudging his elbow into yours. “It’s almost like you’re purposely avoiding him.”

You let out a laugh, pushing the lump in your throat away with a heavy swallow. Avoiding Jungwoo? After confessing a crush you’d compressed for years? The confession he thanked you for before saying goodbye? The cringe worthy memory that constantly replayed in your mind for two years? You weren’t simply avoiding Jungwoo. You were dead set to forget his existence.

“Ohh, you’re going to be so surprised when you see him!” Sungchan’s mom interrupts full of excitement. The few times Jungwoo has a chance to visit clearly brings her immense joy. “He’s always changing his hair color. Surfing on those California beaches every weekend. He’s grown so much, I hardly recognize him as my little baby anymore.”

“Wow, surfing?” You feign astonishment. Carrying on an act that you could care less about Jungwoo. No, you did not have his Instagram post notifications turned on. No, you weren’t grateful his page was public so you could watch his story updates from some burner account. “I didn’t even know he could swim.”

“He couldn’t.” Sungchan adds. “Mom’s right, he’s grown up a lot. Still not taller than me though.”

He pops chips into his mouth proudly. Chewing as he talks. “Here we thought he’d just enrolled into one of the best STEM programs, but I guess the air over there’s different. He’s always bothering me to visit, teach me to catch waves or whatever.”

“You both should take a trip out there one day!” His mom pipes up again. Smiling to herself as she cuts up vegetables for the fish stew. “Jungwoo stays ready for summer now. Always posting at the beach. The sun must be much stronger there, I’ve never seen him so tanned.”

You have to catch yourself from mumbling a ‘me either.’ It’s not as if shirtless photos haunted you daily. Heaven forbid Sungchan ever figured out your passcode, finding an album full of screenshots of his older brother half naked. Even worse if he knew how much time you’d spent lurking through his following list. Finding peace of mind that every girl in there seemed to already have someone.

Not that you should care. Not that you had a complete meltdown the day Jungwoo posted videos at a tattoo shop. Joking about how he should get a tiger inked onto his back.

Worse. He left with both of his ears pierced. Eyeing himself in the self facing camera as he spoke.

‘I don’t know if I can pull off both? What do you guys think? Ah, this is a new Jungwoo though! I am older and wiser. I have confidence these days. What that has to do with getting both of my ears pierced, I’m not sure.’

He busts into a fit of giggles, dropping his phone, ending the impromptu story.

“Yea, moms always yelling in his comments to use broad spectrum sun protection. Knowing Jungwoo he probably cheaps out and throws on any lotion he has on-hand.” Sungchan proceeds to tell you. Disrupting your rushed unraveling thoughts.

“That’s why I send him care packages full of skincare and vitamins. You two didn’t surpass me in height by middle school by missing any nutrients!”

You grow quiet, entirely zoned out. Sungchan’s conversation with his mother fading to background noise.

It’s bad. It’s really bad. Harboring feelings for your best friends older brother that refuse to go away.

Bad enough to concoct an idea to sprain your ankle. A brilliant excuse to render you immobile for the next couple of weeks. Mono? Do people still catch mono easily?

“You’re coming over tomorrow right?” Sungchan interrupts your mindless nail biting. Flicking your tongue over a ripped hangnail as you meet his giant bambi eyes.

“Huh?”

“To finish watching the rest of Alice in Borderland.” He taps at his phone screen displaying the time. “A little too late to cram the 4 last episodes in now.”

“Oh, yea yea. Sure. I’ll come over earlier tomorrow.” You brush him off like its no big deal.

“Great! I think hyungs already caught up too. We can finish the series all together.” Sungchan lifts two thumbs. Excitedly geeking over your plans.

Wait. Tomorrow. Jungwoo would be home?

Shit.

———————————————————

It will be fine, you repeat over and over again. A calming mantra to convince yourself to act normal. Why would you have any reason to not? It’s not like you were about to see the boy who broke your heart in less than a minute.

Besides, it’s not as if Jungwoo even remembers that night. Why would he? His life seemed picture perfect now. At least through social media, where you consumed his day to day activities. Gripping at threads of his maturing personality the best you could.

There was just no way he’d waste time wondering about you. Not between surfing, mingling with many new cool strangers, trying new foods, spontaneously piercing his ears..

Heat blooms over your cheeks before you can even process Jungwoo’s presence. Standing at the Kims doorway entrance like a lost dog caught in the rain.

Jungwoo’s laugh rings like a carousel. It’s familiar and comforting. A memory you want to add to a filing cabinet in your mind reserved for special occasions only. The darkest times that need an anchor to keep you sane. A power behind such a care free boisterous laugh, one that only Jungwoo seemed to hold.

He’s got Sungchan in a headlock, the two of them tossling around in the hallway entrance for some reason. The last thing you’d expected to see as you entered, knowing the door would be unlocked for you already.

“Cat got your tongue?” Sungchan smiles, arching a well groomed brow your way. Turning to expertly lift his other brow at Jungwoo. “Maybe yours too.”

Jungwoo looks perfect, even as his cheeks flare attempting to catch his breath. Ashy grey, almost smoky blue tendrils flop around his forehead. The cool dark tone bringing forward luminosity in his flesh. Pink blush blends from his cheeks to the tip of his nose, melting down to swollen spit slick lips.

Your knees lock, prepared to betray you. Thankful for the door frame pressed down the middle of your back keeping your balance steady.

“Ah, it’s been awhile right?” Jungwoo breaks the now awkward silence first, smoothing his palms down his thighs. Probably sweaty from rough housing with his brother. Not because he’s nervous to see you, nothing like that..

Sungchan lets out a huff near him, shaking his shirt free of wrinkles. “It’s not like either of you make much of an effort to see each other anymore.”

“You really are much more tan now!” You abruptly spew. Side sweeping Sungchan’s commentary. Jungwoo steps closer to you, your neck bends up more than you recall. He’s even taller now, broader. Shoulders wide enough to cinch his waist in even more. Long and lean like he’s about to portray the male lead in a romance manga.

“A lot can change in two years.” He looks you over imperceptibly. Forming a shaky smile when his eyes end on your face. “It’s really good to see a familiar face again though.”

“What am I?!” Sungchan jumps in before you can get a word in edgewise. “Should be grateful you get to see this stunning face every time you come home.”

“You had toothpaste on your chin when you picked me up at the airport.” Jungwoo exposes, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “People were laughing.”

“That sounds like Sungchan.” You add. Following the two further inside who seem to fall back into their old antics easily. Smacking at each other as they throw out more offenses.

“You had toilet paper stuck to your shoe! That’s why they were staring!” Sungchan defends. Plopping down on the single seater, leaving you no option other than to sit side by side with Jungwoo. A love seat, small enough for just two.

Jungwoo’s laughing, reaching over the arm of the couch to pull on Sungchan’s cheek. The two missing the battle thats broken out inside your head.

‘If my hips are this wide, and the cushion is that small, and Jungwoo’s gotten bigger..’

“Sit down so we can start the episode!” Sungchan scolds you, chucking a throw pillow at your side.

Note to self: kick his ass later.

Jungwoo pats the space next to him, sinking down lower. “I’m surprised you’re watching this? I thought blood and murder made you squeamish?”

You shrug, squeezing in nearby him. Burning from where your shoulder brushes his chest. Knee pressing to his thigh like a magnetic force. “I got over that years ago.”

“Oh well.” Jungwoo smirks a bit. Throwing an arm around the headrest behind you. Long fingers dangle too close to your cheek. Fanning the flames of heat that rise up your chest. “We have some catching up to do.”

“Can you two shutup? I’m trying to practice my Japanese.” Sungchan waves a hand in your direction. Squinting and leaning forward to read the translated subtitles. Lips moving together as he follows along with the show.

Jungwoo’s arm slips down around your neck. Cozying all the more into your side, enough to leave a small gap between the couch and his other side. “We’ll have to whisper.”

A playful smile plays at his lips, wiggling his eyebrows up. Finger lifting to his mouth with an airy light ‘shhh’.

Fuck.

Your spine goes rigid, locking your thighs together for extra room. It’s no use, Jungwoo’s always been touchy compared to Sungchan. Whining whenever you ran from his hugs as kids, until you shouted how much you hated hugging.

He sulked for a month over that. Mumbling an occasional ‘who hates hugs?’. You, that's who. Fearful he’d feel your heart pounding out of your chest at such a close proximity.

Maybe he was too nice to mention how flustered you looked when he’d pull away. Only tugging you in closer with both arms wrapped around yours, dragging you to follow him around the neighborhood.

He was always a bit outlandish and overly friendly. That’s how you met after all. Jungwoo found you hanging at the park on the monkey bars with tears staining your face. Fingers painfully clinging as your feet dangled.

Many failed attempts at making your way across the playground set landed you here, alone. Braving the bars yourself that day to prove you could do it without the help of anyone's shoulders under your feet. The other kids wouldn’t get a chance to make fun of you for being a scaredy-cat after this.

“Do you need help?” Jungwoo kicked his bike to the side. Running over the fake laid out grass and sand to get to you. Concern bunching up his cute little face. Eyes large, peaking way between his thick straight bangs as he gazed up at you.

“Go away! I’m fine!” You cried, kicking a foot out at him. Nearly losing your hold on the bar. Fingers turning moist and slippery after 5 minutes.

“Ah, you little brat!” Jungwoo dodges your sad kick. Clicking his teeth and moving closer. “You’re going to fall and hurt yourself, you know?”

“Don’t call me a brat!” You squeaked out breathlessly. Letting out another embarrassing cry as one of your hands slips. Jungwoo shakes his head below, moving to stand right in front of you.

“Look, I’ll catch you!” He tries to sound nice, softening his speech. “Think about how much trouble you’ll get into if your parents find out about this.”

He had a point. Your mom only agreed to letting you play outside because other kids had been around and you begged to make friends with the neighbors.

“You promise to catch me?”

Jungwoo smiles wide, missing his two front teeth. Swinging a pinky through the air. “Pinky promise!”

With a loud shout that feels never ending, you let go. Falling and landing in his hold. The boys breath knocked from his chest, staggering a bit and breaking into a laugh.

“Ah, you big cry baby. All that drama for nothing.” He giggles, using the ends up his sleeves to clean your cheeks of drying tear tracks. “I’m Jungwoo by the way. Did you just move? I’ve never seen you before.”

and that’s how you ended up attached at the hip with the Kim brothers. Jungwoo was quite the chatterbox, eager to inform you of all his interests. Mentioning he has a younger brother about your age.

From that day forward you’d meet with Sungchan and Jungwoo almost everyday. Learning how to ride your bike without training wheels thanks to Jungwoo who insisted ‘that’s for little kids only, are you still a little kid?’

Granted, you were, but anything to impress your cool older friend. Even trying your hand at the monkey bars again. Completely worth it when Jungwoo hugged you hard enough and spun you right off your feet. Using part of his weekly allowance to buy you an ice cream from a mart nearby on the way home. Sungchan grumbling about how hyung never got him ice cream over no damn monkey bars.

How could you not fall in love with him.

Jungwoo’s head rests on your shoulder at some point. Whispering about his favorite characters, who he thinks will survive. Everything he says jumbles together, unable to concentrate on anything else besides his hand rubbing up and down your arm. His minty breath fanning your neck, or the way his nose knocks against the column of your throat when he sits up to grab his phone.

Sungchan groans, cursing and sending his brother a death glare. Jungwoo reaching for the remote to pause right as the episodes about to end. Giving you the opportunity to take a deep breath when he finally makes distance between your bodies.

“Mom asked me to water her flowers before it gets too late.” He reads off a text message. Standing up with a stretch of his arms. “Hasn’t even been a day yet and she already has me doing chores.”

“Ha ha sucka!” Sungchan grabs onto his shoulders, jumping around him to the backyard door. “Finally! It’s like I’m a damn cleaning boy around here sometimes.”

You trail after them again, ending up sat next to Sungchan with your feet cooling in the pool.

Watching as Jungwoo holds a watering can in one hand and a gardening hose in the other. Weighing his options for which would do the job faster.

“Stare much?” Sungchan grumbles. Softly pinching your waist to refocus your attention.

“Huh??”

“Hyungs changed a lot, yeah?” His chin nods in Jungwoo’s direction, standing a little far off with only the water hose in hand. “You still have a crush on him?”

Snickering you pinch him back, attacking his fluffy cheek instead. “I never had a crush on him!”

Sungchan grunts, attempting to bite your fingers off. “My eyes work great, you know that right? You’ve been in love with Jungwoo since we were kids.”

Hearing those words come from Sungchan catches you off guard, enough for him to pick up on. Smirking, his brows bounce up and down.

“Why would you say—..”

“Come on. Am I not your best friend?? I’m supposed to know these things!” Sungchan shrugs. “Also, maybe read it in your diary, I think about 7 years ago. But damn, you’re still scribbling his name over and over again hmm?”

“You little shit!” You shriek. Grabbing at his shoulders to tackle him into the pool. Sungchan erupts with laughter, catching Jungwoo’s attention.

“You left it out for anyone to find! Kept writing my last name next to yours! But all you kept writing was ‘OOOO JUNGWOO I DREAM OF KISSING YOUR POUTY PINK LIPS EVERY NIGHT.’ I had a right to worry!”

“That was none of your business!” You choke out, hoisting your body on top of him for a better hold. Realizing soon enough you’d end up fully dressed and wet if you keep this up. “You’re the worst! Why am I even your friend!”

“Probably just using me to get to my brother!” Sungchan mocks.

“What’s going on over here?” Jungwoo’s standing nearby. Hands on his hips scanning over the awkward position you’ve ended up in. Straddled on Sungchan’s thighs with his palms squeezing your hips to stop you from slipping off.

“Hyung!” Sungchan’s voice cracks, startled. Quickly glancing back and forth between you and Jungwoo as if he’s been caught. “Shit! This isn’t what it looks like!” His nose scrunches up in disgust. Shoving you off to fall back with a loud splash in the pool.

“Dude! Why would you do that??” Jungwoo scurries to the pool ledge extending his arm for you. As if you can’t swim or something… probably because you can’t. Of course he remembers that.

“Sungchan!” You gargle, spitting out nasty chlorine water. “You’re dead!!”

“Oh man.” He squirms, jumping up too fast. Missing the assault of water hurled at him. “Gotta go!”

“Here, take my hand!” Jungwoo calls out, directing you to the ladder on your left side. Large palms encompass your waist to lift you out. Drenched and dripping water everywhere. Soaking through his shirt as you land against him.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Your brothers such an immature little..” you voice trails off. Jungwoo taking a step back, unable to rip his gaze off the way your tops sheered. Attached to your body like a second skin.

“Uh..I’ll grab you a towel!” He turns running off too fast before you can tell him it’s fine. Taking the time to wring your top out.

Note to self again: kick Sungchan’s ass until he cries.

Jungwoo comes back, insisting you change into something dry before you head back home. Obliging as he makes a move to dry you off. Squeezing some of the pool water from your clothing. He drapes the large towel around your frame. Rubbing up and down to warm you up.

“You and my brother like, a thing now?” Jungwoo breaks the tense silence thats fallen between you again. Earning a shocked gasp of disgust.

“A thing?! With that cretin!”

He smiles widely, muffling a laugh. Silky hair shaking about, sparkling eyes softening.

“You’re right, what was I thinking?” He muses, swiping his two front teeth over his bottom lip. Jungwoo sweeps wet tendrils away from your face. Swooping the hair behind your ear, melting you with a barely there touch.

“You can do better.” He lowers to a serious tone. Ending with thinned lips and a furrowed brow.

“What.. what do you mean?”

Jungwoo keeps your gaze for a while. Maybe a minute or so, feeling like an eternity nonetheless. His pupils bounce, drifting around your features. The crinkles on his forehead dissolve within seconds, appearance relaxing. Even his shoulders loosen. Only now noticing how tensed he stood before you.

“Remember my friend Jaehyun?” He brings up with a lost look in his eyes. “Uh, he’s having a get together tonight. Bunch of my friends from high school will be there. You and Sungchan should tag along.”

“Tonight? Oh..”

“There’ll be drinks.” Jungwoo adds. Standing up straight with a drop of his arms. Realizing he’s started petting up and down your back.

“I don’t really drink.”

“Oh..” he pouts, sucking his lower lip in to hide it. “Well..”

“But yea, sounds great. Meet you guys here later?”

Jungwoo claps his hands together eagerly. Directing you back inside to change into one of his t-shirts, smelling of freshly washed laundry. It’s a soft cotton material, just a bit oversized. Making your stomach do backflips as you walk home. Sneaking inhales at the fabric on your shoulder until you feel nauseous.

It hadn’t even been a day and Jungwoo was driving you crazy already.

————————————————————

You have to wonder how you ended up in this predicament. Jaehyun’s ‘get together’ turned out to be more of a jam packed party. Easily losing track of Sungchan and Jungwoo when you entered and they both screamed out something at the same time. Unintelligible over the loud bass vibrating throughout the walls.

“Bathroom!” Jungwoo shouts again. Throwing his arm in the air above a crowd of people gathered wall to wall.

“Wait!” You tried to run after Sungchan. Stuck in the swarm of bodies sweating pressed together. Too many fumes of alcohol, body odor, herbs and such filled your senses.

“Heyyy!” An arm swings around your shoulders. Tugging you deeper into the crowd, pushing past people, leading you through to the kitchen. “Sungchan’s little friend, I remember you!”

Jaehyun Jeong blows out, breathing the distinct taste of liquor over your lips. With ease he brings you to a keg filling up a red cup before you can utter ‘no thank you’.

“Jungwoo said you’d be coming.” He smirks, with added bounce in his brow. Plastic cup placed in your hand clinking against a glass bottle he’d been holding on to. He makes no effort to conceal his gaze, drinking you up head to toe. Dimples sinking in deeper as he does so. “No wonder he sounded so nervous.”

“Excuse me?” You ask. Distracted by the golden bubbling liquid in your cup. Pressing your lips together to mask disgust from the strong scent emitting.

“You’ve grown up a lot since I last recall.” Jaehyun slurs a bit. Snaking his arm around your waist until you’re pressed to his side. “Ah, he should have taken his chance when he had one.”

“What are y—“

“Jaehyun!” Jungwoo’s stomping between the throng of bodies making the kitchen almost claustrophobic. He looks annoyed, even angry. Ramming through with wide shoulders hard enough for people to drop their drinks. “The hell do you think you’re doing?”

Shoving at his friends shoulder roughly, enough for Jaehyun to stumble back a bit. Jungwoo takes in the awkward position you’ve ended up in. Somehow finding you stuck in someone's hold yet again. Beer splashes from the cup you’re gripping. Jaehyun pulling you in tighter. Chest flush against your back sending a chill down your spine.

“Jungwoo! Dude! Did you get taller?!” Jaehyun’s cheeks brighten up. Smile reaching past his eyes. Unaware of how inebriated he is, he steps forward smashing your body between his and Jungwoo’s as he embraces him. Going on about how he can barely reach him anymore.

Jungwoo grunts from the impact, spacing his hips away from your stomach with balled up fists. The cup in your hand jerks around, spilling down the center of your dress.

“Damnit Jae” Jungwoo grumbles. Pushing his drunk friend off your back whose too oblivious to notice what his actions have caused.

“Your little girlfriends all grown up! Better watch out cause I’m single again you know.” Jungwoo stiffens, trying to ask if you’re okay. Glaring at Jaehyun past your shoulder, he leans over to grab a stack of paper towels. Mouthing a ‘shut up!’ at his friend.

“Let’s go outside, there’s too many people in here!” Jungwoo nods to glass sliding doors exiting toward the backyard. Helping you turn, throwing a middle finger up to his friend as you head out.

“I swear everyone has a pool around here except me.” You follow him outside. Pressed together too uncomfortably for how warm of a night it is. Spring brought rolling heat waves this year, misery whenever a space lacked central air.

“That’s why you never learned how to swim.” Jungwoo smiles softly. Hand paused as he attempts to clean beer from your dress. “Uh..these are for you.”

“Oh thanks.” You groan trying to dab off the evident stain forming. Disgusted by the pungent scent of cheap alcohol stuck on you. Skin sticky underneath where beer and sweat have melded together. “I should just go. I smell like shit now.”

Jungwoo’s brows wrinkle together, upset. Mouth opening and shutting trying to come up with an excuse to stay. “I-I..can raid Jae’s room for a shirt you can change into?”

Letting out an exhausted sigh you shrug, thinking over why you even bothered trying to look nice tonight. As if Jungwoo cares, evidently all you are is ‘Sungchan’s little friend’. Wracking your brain repeating Jaehyun’s mention of a girlfriend. Of course Jungwoo had someone, why you clung to a shred of hope still was beyond your capability to understand, clearly.

“I’m just going to head out.” You mutter under your breath. Dropping the wad of filthy paper towels into a trash can full of plastic cups. “I’ll see ya around.”

“What? No! I’ll walk you!” Jungwoo sticks to your side. Palm scorching where he places it on your lower back to direct you through the backyard exit.

“You really don’t have to! All your friends are probably so excited to see you!”

Jungwoo slows down a bit as you enter the street. Jaehyun’s families house all the way at the center of the cul de sac. The walk over no more than 13 minutes or so. It’s not as if you’d get lost on your own.

“Are you not excited to see me?” He mumbles the question. Dropping his hand from your back to bury into the pockets of his jeans. Shoulders bunching up as if to hide himself.

“What? Of c-course I am!” You stammer a bit anxiously. Glancing around swiftly realizing you’re alone with Jungwoo. No Sungchan around to cut the tense atmosphere with idiotic commentary. “I just..don’t you want to catch up with your friends?”

“You’re my friend.” Jungwoo clears his throat. Rolling his shoulders back into a rod-like stance. Walking with a confident stride along next to you. “..and we haven’t talked much in.. what? Two years now?”

“Yea..” you whisper. Biting back the urge to throw in a ‘whose fault is that?’ Like a sweltering punch to his gut.

“We have a lot to talk about.” Jungwoo interjects. Snapping his fingers ahead of you. “Like.. you still can’t swim?!”

“Hey!” Your loose hands slap at his flat stomach. Nearly choking on your spit from how hard his abdomen felt. “It’s n-not that easy!”

“Ah, see if I was here all summer I could teach you, easily.”

“What makes you think that? I’m terrified of being submerged under water for longer than a few seconds.”

“You also used to be scared of heights.” Jungwoo reminds you with a wink. “Until I helped you conquer those monkey bars. Just like I caught you back then, trust me I’d never let you drown in a 10 foot pool.”

“..you remember that?”

Jungwoo’s eyes shoot open in offense. “What? Of course I remember! If you hadn’t been wailing like a sloth, how else would I have found you hanging for dear life 5 feet off the ground.”

“Like a sloth?!”

Jungwoo laughs mimicking your childish cries and the way you kicked at him. “Come on! It was so cute! Who knew you’d end up latching onto me like velcro after that.”

“Yea yea..”

6 blocks later, you fall into a comfortable silence. Jungwoo’s arm swings by yours over and over again, walking you home. Fingers skim between yours until he sucks down a deep breath. Threading between your digits to clasp your hands together. Adam's apple visibly bobbing up and down, flitting his eyes up to the sky. Steps treading lightly as he comes to a stop in front of his house.

“I have to be honest.” Jungwoo’s gaze averts to your feet. Continuing to swing your hands about nervously. “About what Jaehyun said earlier..”

“Oh..” your fingers twitch. Slowly drawing away from his hold. “About your girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend!” Jungwoo’s grip tightens. Yanking you too close on accident from panic. “He..fuck, this is harder than I thought it’d be.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me..”

“No no! It’s just..” Jungwoo stutters between deep breaths. Nose twitching before he sets his gaze on yours. “I’m an idiot! When you told me you liked me..”

“Please, let's not bring that up.”

“No, listen!” Jungwoo grabs your other hand. Looping your arms around his slim waist. He cups your face just as you’re about to duck. “I wanted to say this back then. I wanted to tell you the truth! I’ve always liked you, more than I should.”

“Why would you say that?” You ask, trying to move away again. Chest caving in when Jungwoo’s arms flex to keep you in place.

“Because you were still too young.” He proceeds to confess, extending his fingers to rub circles over your chin. “It didn’t feel right still.. I wanted to wait.”

“You couldn’t have told me that?? I’ve berated myself for two years over how stupid I was.”

“I’m sorry. I should have called, but I didn’t want you to wait for me..” Jungwoo sighs. Hunching lower to graze the tip of his nose down the crease formed on your forehead. “I said I would.. I felt so dumb after that. That the girl I pined over in secret for years had to tell me she likes me. I’m a coward.”

“Do you mean that?” You still hesitate. Jungwoo’s lips are only centimeters apart from yours. Every breath he takes plays at your lips like soft sugary cotton candy. Tempting and sweet, dissolving too fast, leaving you craving for more.

“Mean every single word.” He licks at his top lip. The back of his tongue catching on your cupids bow. Breath lodging at contact. “Sorry I—“

Pushing up on your toes, your lips smash against his. Sloppier than you’d dreamt of your first kiss with Jungwoo to go. Gathering his shirt between your palms, you deepen the kiss. His words fading into sounds of wet smacking. Mouth hung open for his tongue to penetrate, taste around the inside of your mouth.

It’s different kissing someone you like, knowing they like you back. More feral, trying to burrow deep inside Jungwoo’s mouth. Fill his throat up, lick everything down to his insides. The two of you struggling to take in air between your noses fighting for space. Twirling your tongues together building up to vibrating moans.

Jungwoo’s palms lower, gripping at your waist, making way down to your ass. He’s groaning louder, pelvic bone near your stomach. Angling his hips to meet your torso. His cock hardening already, rushed to fast excitement from years of holding back what he’s wanted to do for so long now.

“Fuck. That’s..” Jungwoo sucks in your lower lip. Mumbling words between. His own now plump, coated in residue of gloss from yours. “God I’ve waited to do that for so long now.”

Me too, you think, licking at your top lip to savor his faint taste. Breath still minty from sucking on altoids on the walk home. Lips pillowy, soft enough to land on and immediately drift into deep slumber.

“Do you..” He keeps moving up your face. Peppering kisses along your brow bone, cheekbone, the bridge of your nose. “Wanna come inside for a bit?

You nod more instinctively, letting Jungwoo lead you through the front entrance of his house. Quietly shushing you as he tiptoed ahead past the living room where the TV blared loudly.

Giving a cautious look down the hallway, he gestures for you to get inside his room. Clicking the door shut as quietly as possible, making sure to lock it, just in case.

“We have to be quiet..” he returns to your mouth. Pressing distracting hot wet kisses, shifting you to walk backwards until the backs of your knees meet the edge of his bed. Your stomach flutters, sinking down with Jungwoo climbing onto your lap. Taking control over your weakened movements with his palms settling on your neck. He gives you a light squeeze as he draws back.

“Can you do that? Can you stay quiet for me?” He questions you sincerely. Rolling his hips in a circle against your lap to feel how hard he is.

“I’ll be quiet, promise.” You whimper. Dropping back with Jungwoo’s palms pushing your shoulders back. Head landing on stacked pillows that expel a faded scent of shampoo and roses. Dizzied by how Jungwoo’s everywhere. Unbuttoning your dress. Caressing his way down to your underwear.

He sits up twisting the hem of his shirt with a thumb. Throwing it off somewhere just as quick. Instagram photos served no justice to his physique up close.

With a gulp you reach to trace between the crevices of his defined abdominal muscles. Belly button twitching as you rub down the thin trail of hair disappearing past the zipper of his jeans.

“Is this really happening?” You hear the words, it even sounds like your voice. Jungwoo picks up your hand dragging your fingertips across his swollen lips. Chuckling when you stare at him in a drunk daze.

“Doesn’t feel real yet, right?” He swoops down, licking between your breasts down to just above the elastic of your underwear. Teeth biting at the fabric to shimmy them free from your lower half.

Frustrated by your panties sticking to your core, Jungwoo wastes no time to rip them down. Pussy folds attach to the material sinfully. Enough to drop his face between your thighs with a growl.

“Fuck fuck.” He practically cries sucking on your clit. Tongue expertly rolling your engorged nerves side to side. Stimulating each one with his slippery mouth. “Tastes so good. Just like I knew you would.”

Jungwoo’s growls reverberate up to your sternum. Thrusting down and riding his tongue to breech past your tight entrance. You thrash up commanding him to wiggle in deeper. Breathing in through his nose against your clit. His face shakes, shooting pangs of pleasure down your limbs.

“Jungwoo!!” You whimper. Wrinkling your eyes shut to control a cry from breaking free.

“Shh, my parents will hear you.” He grabs a throw pillow, demonstrating for you to bite down on it. Shoving the corner at your lips until you’re inhaling nothing but cushion. Drooling copious amounts of saliva trying to control your need to scream.

Jungwoo returns to lap between your folds, sucking eagerly at each. Working his tongue between the crevices and dips. Coating your cunt with saliva, wadding up spit to lubricate you even more. As if wetness hadn’t already seeped down past your rim to his bedding forming a massive dark spot beneath your ass.

His arm darts out to the bedside nightstand, withdrawing a shiny small familiar packet with some effort. Taking a hold of his wrist you shake your head with a demanding ‘no’.

He stops with surprise, tugging the pillow from your mouth. The lower half of his face beaming with all types of wetness. “Are you sure?”

Quickly whispering exchanges that you’re both clean, you settle him between your spread open thighs. “Need to feel you. All of you.”

Holding onto the base of his length, Jungwoo prods at your folds. Directing the tip of his cock side to side teasingly. Having to slap your hand across your mouth when he shoves half-way deep suddenly. Slipping through your gushing heat. It’s loud from the lack of your vocals. Squishy and wet, squeezing out around his thick penetrating size. Fat enough to ache all the way to the bottom of your spine. You bite at the inside of your hand to suppress a cry.

“Feel good? Doesn’t hurt right?” Jungwoo whimpers against the shell of your ear. Stirring his lower half experimentally, stretching your cunt open. Hips pull back, thrown down at a frantic pace. Pointed thrusts filling you up each time. Grunting through his teeth from how hard you make it, pussy clung on his length with each drawback.

“Mmmpphh..” you nod best you can. Clasping your hand over your mouth to the best of your weakened ability. Balls smack against your ass roughly, Jungwoo taking your lack of response as a ‘no’. Using all of his lower half to slam in faster, deeper. Struggling to hold back his groans from how tight your walls wrap around his length in a suffocating manner.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven.” He whines. Tone coming out more pitchy than he’d like.

“Jung-jungwoo..” you mewl, releasing your jaw to beg for a kiss with pouty lips. Moaning as his nose knocks into yours roughly. Too lost fucking you in earnest to make the kiss good. Kitten licking messily at each other between your teeth clinking.

Knuckles dragging along wood interrupt your moans. Echoing around the room with a strike of fear. Panicking instantly with widened eyes, you shake like a leaf caught in the wind. Jungwoo splaying his palm over your mouth with a ‘shhh’ before you can get a word out.

“Hyung? Did you get home okay?” It’s Sungchan’s muted voice behind the door. The door handle sounds a bit as he tries to open the door. Your hips squirm, grasping at Jungwoo’s slender waist nervously. Requesting with a pathetic pleading stare for him to not say anything.

Jungwoo grunts, throwing his lower half against yours with heightened speed. The bed creaks with each shift of your bodies, twisting your stomach in knots. Your back springs up in arch, clenching around his length. Sungchan knocks again- “Hyung? Is everything okay? Did you drink too much?”

Jungwoo’s nostrils flare, applying pressure to your jaw. Using his hold over your mouth to aid his thrusts. Burying inside to the hilt he slows down to an excruciating grind until your eyelashes fan up in a shudder.

“I’m fine Sungchannie!” He gets out, ending in a growl. The tip of his cock kissing at your cervix with a change of angle. Your thighs squeeze, kicking at his calves for mercy. Whimpering under his hand as he only rolls his hips full of intent, wishing for you to break. Gargling up a much too loud moan when he hits just right.

“Shhh…w-what did I tell you baby?” His hands slips, shoving his thumb between your parted lips. “Just need something to suck on to keep you quiet don’t you?”

You nod rapidly, neck straining to wrap your lips around his digit. Laving and slurping up the wads of drool trying to escape from the corners of your lips.

“So good, listening like a good girl should.” Throatily groaning, his other hand wraps around your neck. Leveraging his upper half, crushing around your throat.

The constricting grasp on your throat floods down to your gut. Spiraling the familiar feeling of climax. With a bite down on his thumb your hips twist up. Pulsating around the size lodged deep inside you.

“Fuck!” You cry around him louder than you’re supposed to. Unable to stop a few tears from dripping down your temple. Crushing waves of intense orgasm roll up your spine. Leaving your legs trembling all the more as Jungwoo’s thrusts grow erratic chasing his own release.

Sloppily pumping in balls deep, only managing to pull out just as the tip of his cock begins to leak. Exploding hot white ropes of cum to the middle of your torso. Some landing right in your navel. Squirming under his heaving figure from how it tickles.

“God that was..”

Jungwoo collapses flat at your side in a daze losing his train of thought. Chest rising at a speedy pace trying to catch his breath. Silently muttering curses to himself. A sense of something stronger than relief washing over the both of you. He pats at the bed in search of your hand, slinking his fingers back between yours. Resting for a few minutes as you both enjoy the steamy thick airs embrace.

“I should leave, before everyone wakes up.” You mumble sleepily. Post orgasmic high finally coming down. Tingly all over still enjoying how the cum dried up on your stomach feels. “I can already picture your moms interrogation.”

Sitting up, you button shut your now even dirtier dress. A shower too tempting with alcohol and other bodily fluids rubbed on your skin.

“That’s true.” Jungwoo drapes one of his jackets around you, helping your arms slot inside before quietly leading you to the hallway. “You know I don’t plan to keep this a secret right?”

“What.. what do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m telling my mom, and Sungchan.” Jungwoo smiles large. Stroking up and down your sides before adjusting your weight to press against him. “Actually, I’ll be texting Jaehyun first, and slotting my foot up his ass next time I see him.”

“Going to tell him you spent the night with your little girlfriend huh?”

Jungwoo huffs a laugh, pecking your forehead and nodding. A door at the other side of the hallway opening disrupts your banter.

Sungchan’s stepping out of his room, eyes still half shut and crusted over. Waking up this early only to relieve his bladder. Yawning and ruffling his bed hair as he looks around before double taking. He lands on you with a look of horror, fully realizing you're trapped in Jungwoo’s arms. Jaw slowly sliding lower and lower until everything clicks together.

“Aw man, not my brother and my best friend.” Sungchan grimaces, fake gagging. Jungwoo only holding you closer to his chest, dropping his nose against your throat, holding back a laugh. “Come on guys! You were fucking last night weren’t you?! God, that’s nasty! I’m traumatized now! Gross.”

@seuomo @unknown5tar @sunoosi @ahsshilee-me @jenoslutie @nc-teen @if-i-like-i-reblog @johnjaespeach @nohyuckieduckie @xxhoseoksie @kimsaerom @eleven23

[marvelmusing]

Would you be willing to write another part of : “The Twins” ?

Here’s a little something from the twins’ universe.

Reinforcements

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader (featuring platonic!Jonny Russo)

Summary: Billy has been working too hard as of late, so Jonny decides to recruit you in an attempt to pull his brother from his work spiral.

My Masterlist

“Jonathan Russo, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” you tease with a smirk as a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

The dark eyes that look down at you widen and his mouth parts slightly.

“Sweetheart, I’m Billy.”

You shake your head, your smirk widening.

“No you’re not. I can tell you apart, you know.”

Defeat flickers over Jonny’s expression and his shoulders slump slightly, though he doesn’t remove his arms from around you.

“How?”

You shrug.

“Don’t know, I just can,” you lie.

He hums, unconvinced. But you’re not going to reveal to him how you tell the two brothers apart. That one look into their eyes gives their identity away.

Jonny always looks at you with fond recognition, the two of you are best friends after all, but it could never compare to the way Billy looks at you.

Billy looks at you with a softness that burns in its intensity, a dizzying contradiction that sums up your lover perfectly. He doesn’t let many into his heart, but once you’ve found a place there he will love you fiercely. That’s what you see in his eyes when he looks at you.

Not to mention the fact that Billy’s hands would have instantly wandered down your body and his lips would be pressed somewhere against your skin.

Jonny’s touch is affectionate but nothing that would land him in trouble with his brother.

He nudges his chin down onto the top of your head before he begins to tug you towards the hallway of your apartment which leads to the door.

“Will told me to get you some dinner.”

You narrow your eyes at him, pulling on your shoes as he takes your coat down from the coat rack and shakes it lightly.

“So, we’re going to pick something up that we can take to him while he’s working?”

The corner of Jonny’s mouth lifts as you slide your arms into the coat, and he squeezes your shoulders as you adjust the collar.

“Course we are. But only you can get away with pulling a stunt like that on him.”

Billy won’t allow many people to interrupt him while he’s working. At the moment, he’s been updating Anvil’s training program and you know how much effort he’s been putting into it.

Although, when Billy is consumed by a project like this you and his brother are usually the only ones allowed to enter the office.

With the almost sheepish edge to Jonny’s smile, you’re willing to bet that even his presence had been deemed a nuisance by Billy today. No wonder he has decided to bring you in as back up.

“Where are you thinking of?”

He shrugs his own coat on, his face lighter now that he’s gained your support.

“Well, there’s that diner he pretends he hates.”

“The one he calls a greasy mess but finishes their burgers in practically a minute?”

He breathes out a small laugh before he nods.

“That’s the one.”

Grabbing your keys, you turn off the lights and follow Jonny out of the apartment.

»»---------------------►

Billy looks tired. If you hadn’t known that he hasn’t been sleeping well lately, you could blame the low light of the lamp on his desk for the shadows under his eyes.

He tilts his head slightly, aware that someone is in his vicinity but too consumed by whatever he’s writing down to look up properly. Your voice is soft as you say,

“Hey you.”

The tension that lifts from his shoulders is overly visible as his eyes land on you. Lowering his pen, he says your name softly. Then he frowns.

“Where’s Jonny?”

“I told him to go home.”

“Good.” He threads a hand through his hair as he rolls his shoulder. “Been hovering round me all day.”

The corner of your mouth lifts as you cross over towards Billy’s desk.

“Might that be because this is technically his office too?”

He narrows his eyes at you, but his expression softens as he looks over you, gaze settling on the paper bag in your hand.

“What’s in the bag?” he asks as you perch yourself on the edge of his desk, directly next to him. He turns his chair slightly to face you.

Tugging gently at his tie, you loosen it away from his throat and undo the button at the collar of his shirt.

“Dinner.”

When Billy gets hyper focused on a project, he tends to forget that his body has needs. Not only does he skip meals, but he forgets that he’s been wearing a three piece suit since six this morning.

He hadn’t even realised how uncomfortable he was until you slipped his jacket from his shoulders.

With a small sigh and a nod of acceptance, he moves his papers out of the way, clearing his desk for the two of you to eat. You take this as your cue to drag a chair over from the other side of his desk, settling yourself next to him.

As you’re unboxing the dinner, setting up napkins and finding some coasters for your drinks, Billy removes his watch and rolls his sleeves up.

When you hand him his dinner, he smiles at you, pressing a grateful kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Despite the grumbling of his stomach at the scent of food, he hesitates, dusting nonexistent dirt from his thigh. You already know he wants to apologise for working so hard, likely feeling guilty about the fact that you should be at home instead of delaying your own dinner and spending it here with him.

Before he can say anything, you take his fidgeting hand and give it a small squeeze.

“I’m proud of you.” His eyes widen. “I’ve always admired how dedicated you are.”

You glance over at the papers at the other side of his desk - training simulation routes, floor plans for new exercises, the contract for a new building.

“I know you’re a perfectionist, and I know how much you care about the people here.” Looking back at him, you give his hand another squeeze. “But they care about you too, Billy. None of us want to see you going without for the sake of perfection.”

“I-” As his voice cracks, he blinks rapidly.

He swallows hard, eyes glossy. Then he clears his throat, looking down at the floor.

“Thank you.”

Knowing that he needs some time to think, before he can truly respond to your words, you give him a small smile before you nod towards the thin cardboard box in front of him.

“Your burger’s getting cold.”

His lips quirk slightly as he reaches for his burger, watching your reaction out of the corner of his eye as he says,

“I love you.”

Stealing a curly fry from his box, you smile back widely as he feigns a look of betrayal.

“I love you too.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @nyx2021 @skybridgerton @dragon-of-winterfell @chickensarentcheap @stardustmorozov @sweetwritingfanficfriend @witchcraftandwit @ladyofsoa

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny

»»---------------------►

-

»»---------------------►

-

[puppywritesthings]

Six Sentence (Easter) Sunday

So remember the Luxx/Loosey fic I talked about? Here’s some of it.

But also some added context for no one who did modern high school theater in the States:

- The Jimmy Awards are the National High School Musical Theatre Awards that take place in NYC where they recognize talent from high school musicals. There are only two awards (Best Performance by an Actor and Best Performance by an Actress) and usually people who make it to the semifinals do well for themselves in their career.

“Ugh,” Loosey sighed, interrupting, “they misspelled my name. Again.” She complained as she flipped through the program. “How many times do they have to be told it’s L-O-O-S-E-Y, not Lucy like Ricardo.”

“At this point, you might as well ask them to change Betty Blast to Ariel Moore too.” Luxx teased, causing the entire dressing room to go quiet.  Whoever was left on wardrobe duty scurried past the actors and left, standing outside to overhear whatever actor drama was to come from it. “Come on, be honest with yourself.”

“Glad of you to bring this up on opening night. And we were having such a fun time as a cast, getting along so nicely.”

“You’re saying this as if it was some huge secret.” Isabelle added, “Girl, we all knew you’ve wanted a lead since freshman year and we all knew you’d throw a little hissy fit about it.”

“I’m not throwing a hissy fit!” Loosey stood up as some of her stage makeup smeared across her face. “When have I ever complained about not getting a lead?”

Luxx unlocked her phone and furiously scrolled through her messages. “I have receipts! Hold up, let me find them.”

“Receipts, mama…” Anetra echoed before immediately packing, heading out of the dressing room. “Also why are y’all still in costume?”

The question remained unanswered as Loosey took the rest of her makeup off, letting her face rest in the wipe a little longer than she thought. She groaned, wondering what evidence could possibly be against her.

“Okay, I guess we’re not getting Steak and Shake after this.”

“Fuck Steak and Shake!. This is more important.” Luxx said as Anetra just shrugged, exiting the dressing room with her bags in hand.

“I’ll text you and Jax to see if you still need rides, okay Marcia?”

Marcia didn’t have time to respond as Luxx finished her scrolling to the top of the cast group chat.

“Here it is,” she quoted, affecting an accent similar to Loosey’s, “‘I’m so happy to be a part of this cast. The only way it would have been better is if I was at callbacks with you all! Alas, Ms. Charles knows my typecast too well to be considered for an important part with, you know, more than seven lines. Someone has to be the comic relief, and that’s me. Can’t wait to not be in all the dance numbers! Hugs. Smiley face. Heart. Sparkles emoji.”

Loosey gasped, completely flabbergasted, “I was being genuine! Maybe you just don’t get my sense of humor. It’s called sarcasm, ever heard of it?”

“And then!” Luxx continued, “ ‘Interesting choice for Ariel, but I trust the vision?’ The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” 

“And look how that turned out. I trusted the vision, and the show’s going great!” 

“Right, because the success of this show entirely depended on your trust in it.”

“As I was saying before I was interrupted, it’s going great!  Everything’s fine. You’re getting all this praise. You’re gonna go straight to the Jimmy’s after opening night,” Loosey mocked.  “At this point, you’re gonna pull a Renee Rapp, go straight to Broadway, and then nobody hears from you until a movie adaptation of your big break gets made.”

The dressing room went silent once again.

“The way you’re trying to convince yourself you’re completely in the right is impressive,” Isabelle broke the silence. “And I envy you for that.”

[neko-rogers]

But It’s Better If You Do

Trying to keep your relationship with your professor was easy enough, until you learned that someone had found out about it.

words: 7,424 tags: manipulative!peter, explicit noncon/dubcon elements, degredation, implied overstimulation, blackmailing, kidnapping, college student and professor relationship, 

a/n: whew this had a lot of words compared to what i usually write. plus, since im bad at titles, i’ll just use my fav song titles lmao. (ps. erik lehnsherr aka magneto is here and im just glad i could put him in my little fictional world bc im d biggest slut for him)

     A complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

     The man in front of the class was practically pouring his heart out into the lecture. The chalkboard was filled with white letterings from left to right, not knowing where to start as you take down notes.

     “It is important to keep in mind that bimolecular structure and function are dictated by the properties of the medium in which they are dissolved,” your professor explains while continually pacing from one end to the other among the students seated at the first row.

     You decided to seat around the middle to the last row, knowing it was the least obvious way for other students in the class to notice how much you fawn over your Organic Chemistry professor rather than the subject itself.

     Honestly you could listen to him talk for hours. All those information he had been discussing would not actually process through your thoughts. You knew that better than anyone.

     But who honestly would invalidate your reason? Everyone can probably relate to hating Chemistry, no matter what subcategory it is. 

     Considering that this was probably one of the most difficult courses you had in your program. You were just thankful and lucky enough you landed on one of the hottest professors amongst the campus.

     “Hey what did Professor Lehnsherr say about the problems during synthesis of proteins?” Peter asks.

     In spite of being fortunate about everything else about this subject, you were not quite happy about Peter Parker following you around like a lost puppy. Especially during the classes you both have alike. 

     The boy constantly asks so much questions as if you were the teacher already. In addition, he seemed smart enough to figure things out yet somehow he keeps on bugging you for reassurance.

     You did not want to be rude. He has not done anything to completely deserve your rage, however he was definitely getting on your nerves.

     Honestly you would not want to be infuriated over his consistent queries, but you were just as distracted as he was, maybe even more. With this, you were looking dumber to him each day. 

     To anyones pride, it was probably a kick in the stomach. You knew you were not the brightest in this class, but it was best to leave the information to yourself. No need for anyone to point out how mindless you were.

     And you really were not. You had other Science subjects you totally excel at. Sadly, Chemistry was just not one of them.

     “Well, uh, I don’t think I got that part either.” You look aside where he was seated and awkwardly smiled at him before mentioning an apology, “Sorry, Peter.”

     In return, Peter smiled at you and dismissed the question. You were not so sure whether to forget about it or take even the least bit of offense. You felt a little mocked by how easily he did it and innocently he smiled, but maybe you were just overthinking this through.

     “It’s fine,” he tells. “I just didn’t get the third bullet, but I’ll try to review it in the textbook when I get home.”

     “Oh okay, sure.”

     “Speaking about reviewing,” Again, Peter tries to start another discourse.

     “I was wondering if you got reviewers for the upcoming text for next week? We all know how difficult Professor Lehnsherr’s exams can get, right?” He lets out a forced chuckle, assuming it could lighten the mood.

     As much as he tried to make small talks with you, almost everyday, today you really feel like you did not want to return the favor. Especially after having to bring up the test next week.

     “I don’t really make reviewers, I usually just scan the books I have at home.”

     Lies. You probably have a box full of index cards and sticky notes in your room.

     You tried to use every studying tips every corner of the Internet could give. All those study-life hacks that really did not help much but pile up to your disorganized state of mind.

     You fucking tried to study Chemistry. You really did.

     “What, you don’t?!” He suddenly exclaims, not realizing the loudness of his voice as it almost caught the attention from people at front. “You seem to be busy all the time though. It’s like I always catch your writing or reading something in class.”

     Maybe your mood was just off but it definitely seemed weird for him to say that. Though, you did not want to make something from what he said. It was not worth your time.

     “I guess people are not always what they seem to be, yeah?”

     Again, Peter gives out that soft chuckle and smile, “Then I guess so. You do make a point.”

      He does not argue with you any further.

     “Can I at least borrow your Physics book? I only bought Chemistry and Biotech for the semester. Didn’t know they would actually utilize it for once,” he scoffs. 

     At first you hesitated. You were reviewing for it too, but you already felt bad for being no help whenever he asks a question and often times disregarding him when your mood if off. Plus, you did just make it look like you were not much of a study-freak.

     “Okay.”

     He instinctively fist pumps the air and looks at you with a wide, grateful grin. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N.”

     “Don’t mention it.” You grab the book he needs from your bag and hands it to him. He accepts it and places it inside his while also clearing the rest of his things.

     Looking at his digital wristwatch wherein he raised his index finger up as if he figured something out of it, he says, “He’s going to dismiss the class in a few minutes. We should get ready for Cell Biology next period.

     Oh how you hated it. Were you jumping to conclusions? Or was this boy really trying to be too close with you? Or was he just being nice and informing you to prepare ahead?

     God, you did not give Peter Parker the right to cloud up your thoughts like this.

     “Thanks,” you say, “but I need to talk to Professor Lehnsherr after class. Have to, uh, consult him about my concept paper that he made us submit last week.”

     As he tidies his notebooks up and carelessly shoves it inside his backpack, he immediately looks back at you with a confused expression, “Oh, I can always wait for you–”

     “It’s fine, Peter. Thank you though.” Two of your hands were instinctively waving in front of you, a meek gesture for him to stop coddling you or whatever move he had been trying to make at you.

     “Are you sure? I–”

     And if you were ought to be saved further from lashing out over Peter’s incessant attempts, you finally heard the words any student was longing to hear. “Class dismissed. I’ll see you all on Monday.” 

     “Eri–err, Professor Lensherr just dismissed the class. Better catch up to him before he heads out,” you hurriedly said. And with a loud slam from your notebook, you quickly shut him out. In addition, you practically shoved every thing in front of you into your bag without sparing a second glance.

     One strap of your back was slung over your shoulder as you hurriedly flew down the aisle. Professor Lehnsherr was midway into packing his things before you interrupted and approached him.

     “Professor,” you call out. “I have a question. About the paper I handed in last week.”

     “Uhuh.” He faintly furrows his eyebrows, trying to hide his already obvious bewilderment. “I forgot which assignment was that, Ms. Y/L/N.”

     There were students still exiting in class. So you tried your best to make your conversation with him less suspicious. He was most likely doing the same. 

     “It was about the Chemistry-proposal thing.” You snapped your fingers a few times as you gathered your train of thought, but realizing it was not going effectively. “Well I just wanted to confirm it since, you know, I was hoping for any feedback from you throughout this week.”

     “I’m not sure if I have read it. I’ve certainly been busy this week,” he clarifies. “Nonetheless, we can talk about it later. Thank you for bringing it up. I’ll make sure to follow it up in my schedule, Ms. Y/N.”

     Both of you made your way out the door once there were only a minuscule amount of students left in class. You probably had been looking at your professor with gushing stares, but you doubt the other people in the room could notice it. They were farther away from where both of you stood, much less would they be able to hear what the two of your were talking about.

     “Oh thank you so much, sir!” You almost cried out and jumped in joy while reaching through the threshold. Moreover, you composed yourself before mumbling out, “I’ll see you later, Eric.” 

     In which you were certain no one would have heard it besides him.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

     “I’m sure you’ll get a good grade in the exams, Y/N,” Eric leans back to his seat with a humble smile upon his face. 

     “Really? I doubt so, there’s a kid in your class that keeps bugging me out to a study date, or whatever you call it,” you sneer. You lick your lips as you finish taking a sip around the wine glass, setting it down and looking back at the man you were having dinner with. “It’s getting very annoying though, he surely knows how to get on my nerves.”

     “I’m sure he’s just trying to flirt with you, like any other college boys do.” He optimistically and maturely lays out the options. “It’s pretty normal for anyone to chase someone they are fond of, especially for young adults like you.”

     It was a pretty obvious sign that he was trying to let his message reach you. 

     “Well, I apologize for my standards of men,” you say. “I just want to skip the whole heartbreak in college and character development. All that stuff you usually see in a typical teen romance movie.”

     You sigh, looking down and saying, “I already found a man for me. Why would I stoop down for some guy who’s most likely wanting something from me, and dumping me once he got what he wanted.”

     “Y/N, I don’t blame you for liking men that’s ten years older than you,” Eric assures. “But I want you to realize that you still have a lot to look forward after graduating

     “And I look forward for you too!” You tried to not raise your voice, though having dinner in his house wouldn’t really catch anyones attention. “I can’t wait to finally graduate from second semester and be able to spend more time, publicly, with you.”

     “Yes, I understand, honey.” He places his hand over yours as he tries to calm you down. “Like I said, I just want you to make sure that you’ve clearly thought this through.”

      Eric adds, “There’s plenty of men out there. I don’t want to take away your opportunity of experiencing something new at such a young age.”

     “I’m turning twenty-four! I promise you I’m thinking everything through.” Your voice was much weaker than a few seconds ago. The evident tone of strength fades even with one glance from the man in front of you. You felt yourself shrink in your seat. But you were sure he does not intend to frighten you into compliance.

     “Sorry,” you pout. “Didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

     “I understand, and I won’t pressure you any more tonight, okay?” He tries to uplift your mood, detecting quickly the shift of the room’s atmosphere. “You deserve a good dinner tonight, like I promised, sweetie.”

     His smile made you calmer. It was then that you realized why you were attracted to a man like him even if he was still your teacher.

     The way he handles you in any given situation so sensibly. Though it may feels intimidating at first, he consequently tries to override the tone of the conversation which cheers you up.

     With one hand, he hold yours and gently draws it towards him at the same moment he leans his head down. Eric presses a kiss against the back of your hand and you butterflies immediately fill inside your stomach. “I love you.”

     “I love you too.” Every doubt you had entirely disappeared now. If there were hints of you hesitating to continue seeing Eric, they were certainly long gone now.

     “Let me drive you home after dinner,” he offers, like the gentleman he is.

     Eric always does make sure you get home safe. However, you both agreed that he drops you off at least a block away from your house. Just in case people around your neighborhood might catch you, or worse your parents.

     It was not like you were ashamed of your relationship with Eric. Cautious was the term.

     You were only a few months in seeing him. Fair enough, he was your second semester professor and the both of you met before that period.

     You were not only risking the wrath of your parents once they hear you’re dating an older man, let alone your Chemistry teacher. But you were also putting him at risk if ever his faculty finds out.

     Eventually, the two of you pack up and end your conversation. Other than talking about college, the two of you also talk more about yourselves which has progressed you into learning more about each other’s personalities and likes.

     He helps you out of his house and into the passenger seat of his car. It had been more than thrice wherein he drove you home, and the familiar scent of leather and the typical Glad air fresheners has clung onto your nose. You strap on your seatbelt on just as he was getting inside the driver’s side.

     The ride was not entirely dead silent. Eric made a few more small talks before finally turning a right which was where he usually drops you off. It amazes you how instantly he remembered the way to your home, as you instructed him the first time.

     “Thank you for tonight, like always, Eric.” 

     As always, you made your way out of his car prior to giving him a kiss. You only had to walk straight ahead, glancing at your home which had one dim light illuminating through one window.

     Upon entering the house, you figured your parents were already asleep and a hint of the living room lamp was present. Taking the benefit of not having to be interrogated by anyone, you rushed upstairs to your bedroom, turned on the lights, and immediately closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. A smile was also visible after recalling your night with Eric.

     As you made your way towards your bed, a piece of paper lays obvious in the middle of it. Your sheets were flattened and tidied, so you could obviously detect when something is placed on top of it. You have no memory of leaving it early in the morning before you left too.

     When picking the paper up, you realized it was a piece of polaroid film. Its back was facing you, having no idea what to expect at the front.

     At that point, the smile from your face turned into horror and all the color in you basically drained away.

     The picture displayed you and Eric at one dinner night out from a few days ago, you still remember. It could have been anything but malicious, but the way his hand was intertwined with yours as both of you laugh away without worries. It was clear as day, the light shining perfectly at the both of you. Anyone can conclude what was happening in the picture.

     You did not know this day would come. The picture was taken from Eric’s home to prevent such things like this from happening. So it puzzled you just as much at it terrified you.

     This was definitely someone who had been stalking either one of you. It was not a mere instance like paparazzis who catch celebrities dating on the streets of New York.

     Someone definitely have been observing the two of you.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

     Days have passed, a week almost. Examinations are scheduled for tomorrow. 

     And you prayed that the picture you received would be the only thing terrorizing your dreams. But you were completely wrong.

     From thereon, you started to receive more pictures, specifically one every morning and night, from your past hangouts with Eric. It were simple shots but had the power to completely jeopardize either one of you, mostly him at stake though.

     It was obvious that the person behind this was definitely observing the two of you for a while. Probably even during the most earliest weeks when your relationship with him started.

     Though it may seem unfair, you did not mention anything about it to Eric. It was enough the he was keeping with you, his job, and himself private – which clearly was not working out so well. You felt like it was your responsibility to handle this situation. You were so sure you did not try to publicize anything and kept it on the low.

      Nevertheless, it was out there. Eric had not mentioned anything so you assumed he did not receive a picture like you did.

     Currently, you were seated at the farthest row at the back of the room, somewhat near the corner. Physics was your last subject and you could not wait but finally leave.

     In addition, you texted Eric that you would not be seeing him until after the exams. It was an easy excuse not to see him, saying that you wanted to focus on studying for it; however, you knew that you would just be busy thinking about the creepy stalker gallery you have been receiving.

     “Hey.” Unsurprisingly, a familiar voice whispers next to you which disrupts your heavy train of thoughts. “You finished studying for tomorrow? I’m about to end my review with Chemistry later.”

     “Cool.” Probably the one of the most basic replies in the universe. “I haven’t finished studying, I’m kind of dealing with a lot of things recently.”

     You made sure to generalize your answer, but enough for him to sympathize and at least give you some space.

     “Oh, sorry to hear about that.” Peter frowns. He takes his seat a few desks away from your left, leaving you to continue thinking. You were thankful for his gesture too.

     Surprisingly enough the boy barely bothered you for the entire lecture. You were still engrossed on finding out whoever was stalking you, even so dating back to boys you evidently rejected during the first semester – who badmouthed you immediately afterwards. There were not a lot of names, so it was easy to remember who was who.

     You traced back to each boy and remembered what they said after you told them you were not ready to enter a relationship – a complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

     Just as you expected from any of them, rumors have spread out about you which was mostly shaming you physically or mentally. Some were milder insults than the other yet at the end of the day you did not care.

     “Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. “Who was that boy at Liz’s party.”

     Your eyes were sealed shut, recalling a list of names while using your thumb and middle finger to massage your temples. It was getting frustrating and mentally exhausting.

     After some time, you had so much word filling in and our of your brain that you were not aware that your own name was being called. Your heart practically skipped a beat after hearing it the first time, assuming that you were being called to recite an answer. But you became content after seeing that it was just Peter, who started tapping your arm to get your attention.

     “Huh?” You lightly shake your head before turning your head aside.

     “Oh, class was dismissed a few minutes earlier than usual–”

     “Don’t forget to answer the assignment regarding thermodynamic concepts found it the book. You’ll hand it in immediately on Wednesday.” The professor addresses the class as they were already carrying their bags and themselves out the room.

     You start placing your stationeries inside yours, packing your other things up until it was only a pair of earphones and your phone left in front. Peter stood near the aisle while looking at you just as you were zipping your bag shut.

     “Oh shoot, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he states out of nowhere causing you to furrow your eyebrows at him. “I forgot I still haven’t returned your Physics book I borrowed last week.”

     Nodding your head and standing up, you shrug it off. “It’s fine. You can return it tomorrow.”

     “Sure, but how will you do your Physics assignment?”

     Oh yeah. Your professor literally reminded the class a few seconds ago.

     “I think I might be able to do it overnight. How many pages is the task?”

     “Eight, or nine I think.” He frowns looking very guilty at you.

     “Shit,” you swore. That was a lot of pages than the usual assignments given.

     “Yeah, professor said it could help add points if you somehow get a bad grade at the tests.”

     “Never mind,” you tried to set his mistake aside. “I’ll try to do it within overnight tomorrow. I can ask for help from my friend tomorrow morning and–”

     “Wait! I realized you can stop by my apartment to get it.”

     “Oh–er, Peter, I don’t think I have time to–

     “It’s just nearby the campus, I promise,” he assures and adds, “it wouldn’t be a hassle, it’s probably on your way home anyway so it won’t make a difference.”

     “Uhm.” You were doubtful of him. 

     However, you did realize that you did not have anything to do after class. You were keeping distance with Eric for the meantime which meant that your schedule was mostly vacant after this.

     “Please,” he begs, “I feel so bad for keeping it the whole week. I swear it’s like a few blocks from here.”

     “Would it take more than twenty minutes?” You purse your lips, convincing yourself that you would rather force yourself to study at home than spend it at someone’s apartment.

     “I only take around ten minutes to walk so,” he answers. “Unless you’re a slow walker, of course.” The tone of his voice seeming to be joking.

     Again, he pleads. This kid will not fucking budge.

     “Fine,” you blurt out. Though, you realized your sudden-almost lash out moment at the boy that you made sure to reiterate it but slower, “I mean, sure. I can stop by your apartment to pick up my book.”

     An awaited smile and sense of agreement washes over you.

     Peter then leads the way as you walked behind him, maintaining a short distance so people would not throw out any suspicious looks. Like in every college, everyone knows just how fast gossips formulate and rumors spread.

     If you think about it though, it might avert anyone’s suspicion – mainly pertaining to your creepy stalker – with you and your Professor. But you were not prepared for that yet, maybe some time when you can finally think about its consequences through.

     True to his word, as the both of you exited the campus, it took a short time before the boy in front of you told that you were about to enter through the entrance to the building of his apartment. You were not so sure if it was really a momentary walk or because you were so focused on thinking and keeping a distance.

     At some points he did often look back in case you got lost from following him. Plus, like always, he asked you simple questions either about your day or your subjects to make small talk. In which case, you were barely answering him but definitely progressed compared to when he attempted for previous times during class.

     In addition, as the two of you walked down the block, the number of faces you could only assume was in college decreased. Meaning that the glares at you eased up.

     “Well, here’s my location.” A loud huff follows as he uses a key to unlock the door for the entrance to the building, “It wasn’t that far, was it?”

     “Yeah, I guess it wasn’t that far.” You agree as he holds the door for you and then walks right after you.

     As Peter leads you upstairs onto around the fourth level, he proceeds to walk along the corridors. The array of same beige colored doors with small golden indents of unit numbers paraded along it too. Eventually he stops and inserts a key into the lock, twisting it until hearing the unlocking sound.

     For a moment you hesitated to follow him. You just wanted your book and you were sure he can give it to you on a shorter span than your walk from campus to here. Was it that troublesome?

     Entering his complex, you discovered how minimalistic it looked. To be fair it seemed quite small, the living room instantly greeting you through the entrance and a kitchenette at the side. But since his things were tidied up, it looked roomy.

     You instinctively close the door behind you, slightly aware that it did not create a locking sound. Following Peter, you took a few more steps until you stood still at the passageway between his living room and entryway.

     “Do you want a drink?” Peter asks.

     “No thank you.” You were still trying to subtle. “I just want my Physics book, Peter. Please?”

     He looked at you and paused for a split second. You could feel the frown behind the expressionless look. “Yeah. Okay. Sure,” he nods for a few times before turning around and proceeding to a seemingly narrow hallway. “I’ll get it in my room. Be back in a second.”

     Your feet faintly paced back and forth, still where you stood a few meters between the entrance and living room. After a few more minutes, Peter emerges carrying the familiar book with one hand.

     He approaches you within a few stops but stops in his tracks, leaving a distance from you. “Well uh,” he starts as his chin was tucked.

     “I just want to tell you something before I hand you back your book.” He looks up at you with really pleading eyes. During other instances in university, you were definitely familiar with that look. However, this one probably ranked as one of the most downhearted ones. 

     You did not want to feel regretful for him. Though it definitely feels like you just kicked a puppy.

     “Was is it?”

     “I love you,” he blurts out as his face goes back from hiding and looking down.

     It seemed awkward. You were somewhat expecting it, but you were also hoping that this day would not come – or not at least until you graduate and leave the university.

     “Oh.” You honestly did not want to react.

     Were you going to say sorry? How about thank you? Would it be better if you said you did not like him back? Or will the best response be that you are already taken?

     “Peter, I–”

     “Are you really dating Eric?” He shots up with eyes appearing almost teary.

     What. The. Fuck.

     “No,” you mutter. It was not much of an answer to his question. It was more on being quite horrified as your mind started jumping to conclusions.

     The amount of things running around your mind right now was immeasurable.

     Firstly, anyone could make two and two out of what he said, especially knowing that no one knows it even so around your circle of friends.

     Secondly, you should have thought better. Your doubts with Peter should have been grater and you totally underestimated him. However, some part of you prayed that he was just an annoyingly awkward nerd who follows his friends regarding flirting tips.

     Lastly, you turned around and ran.

     You probably got your way with opening the door and taking two steps out. It was not long before you felt arms wrap around your waist and either side of your arms. You were then lifted and pulled behind while you tried to kick at the air as an escape. Did not work though.

     Peter was surprisingly stronger than you thought. He already seemed fairly muscular at class, hiding behind those long sleeved sweaters and flannels.

     Eventually the last thing you remember was the image of the door of his apartment open while you get sucked into the room further. Everything went black afterwards.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

     When you felt that you were slowly restoring to consciousness, you were aware of the pounding at the back of your head and your arms.

     You tried to move your hands, wanting to press against the parts of your body that were aching. But you felt incapacitated as your wriggled your wrists around and felt an unfamiliar sticky fluid enveloping around them.

     “Glad you’re awake,” a voice says. “Does your head hurt?”

     You tried to open your eyes, the dark lighting of the room not cooperating with your vision. A light from the window and a lamp were the only things that helped you form something out of the void. 

     From there you saw Peter Parker sitting closely beside you at the edge of the bed.

     Hell please let this be a nightmare.

     “What–” You groan, “What do you want from me.”

     Your mind was building up your anger yet your body says otherwise. You felt exhausted and heavy.

     Peter shushed you in a caring manner, “We’ll talk when you feel better. I’ll let you get more rest okay, sweetie?”

     “Uhh.”

     That was what you could remember the most. If you have awoken for other times in between your sleep, then you surely did not have an idea of it.

     When you finally woke up, the level of your grogginess felt little to none already. You looked around and saw that the room was still dark and seemingly still nighttime.

     As your head was twisting from side to side, you saw Peter appear from the doorway carrying a translucent cup filled with water in one hand. “Hey, you’re finally awake.”

     Instead of replying to him, your wrists writhe beneath the fluid that you are still not familiar of. You could not really look up to get a good view of what it was, but it was wet, sticky, and felt like super glue.

     On the other hand, both your legs, ankles, and feet were free. The back of your thighs bounced against the bed as you struggled, but it would not do much since your arms were practically stuck.

     “Fuck,” you grumble.

     “That won’t help. You’re pretty much stuck there,” he says, Then he takes a seat at the edge of the bed, alike where you remembered him positioned from earlier, “Might as well talk to me until I let you go.”

     “Okay then, when will you let me go?” Your voice was calm hoping you could talk your way out of this mess. 

     “If you behave for me like a good girl, okay?”

     Shivers went up your spine as you cringed at his statement.

     Immediately, your mood shifts from calm to furious after hearing his disturbing bargain. Then purposely rolling your eyes for him to see. “How the hell will I behave if you’re a creepy stalker! You disgust me!”

     Peter hums, displaying a look wherein he seems like he was thinking. You were not sure if it was sarcastic or not, either way it annoyed the hell out of you. “Creepy stalker sounds overstated, it was more on being curious.”

     You scoff as well as exclaim, “You sent me photographs of me and Eric at his house! Fucking hell, Peter.”

     “Oh yeah that part.” He slyly pouts his lips to the side as he comes to realize what he had done, “I guess it was a bit creepy–”      “What do you mean a bit? That was invasion of privacy!”

     Despite being trapped, both your hands balled into a fist, feeling very furious at his dense answers. “I was living my own life! I kept my relationships to myself,” you cry out.

     “Yes, but you weren’t completely living your life,” he whispers while gently combing his hair through the front of your hair. “You deserve much more than someone who couldn’t proudly tell that you’re his girl. Is he even a man? Do you really enjoy that kind of life, sweetie?”

     “We were happy,” you weep. The evident crack on your voice was a signal that you were about to cry though you were not sure if it was because you were held hostage or because you were worried for Eric.

     No one would understand your situation with him right now. Especially Peter.

     “Trust me you weren’t,” he scoffs. “You deserve so much more, and I can give you that.”

     “I’d rather be alone forever than be with you, asshole!” Your voice was inconsistent, clearly affected by how fast Peter’s mood also shifts quickly.

     You also figured you were not looking entirely fresh while crumbling beneath him. Drops of tears and sweat were all over your face and neck, both your eyelids felt swollen, and your nose was almost stuffed.

     Peter stand from the edge of the bed and advances to his desk from the side. A harsh bang echoed throughout the room as your body twitched out of shock.

     “What does that dick have that I don’t?!” He grits his teeth as the curves of his jaw intensifies. A displeased look was written all over his face. 

     “P-please let me go.”

     “I need you to answer, sweetie. We going nowhere unless you answer!” He was never going to let you go if you were not going to cooperate. 

     Every step he takes closer back to the bed just increases your heart beat further. He had rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to the edge of his elbows and you felt threatened looking at how firm his arms looked.

     “Peter, p-please,” you hiccup.

     As Peter returns to the edge of the bed, he does not hesitate anymore to keep a distance. His hands hover to either sides over your body and sets the left side of his head on your midriff, laying while also getting a good view of your vulnerable state.

     He does not even look life he was struggling to make an effort to keep you down, but you could feel how heavy he was and was barely giving you a chance to move around.

     “I can give you so much more, Y/N.” The way his gaze directs at you was definitely one of the creepiest things you have experienced. He had so much emotions yet completely lacked sympathy for your state of mind.

     Shutting your eyes, you only cried further. You felt a hand cup one of your cheeks as its thumb wipes away the pouring tears. Like a broken record, you only pleaded more, “Please let me go.”

     “I can’t.”

     “Why.” You bawled, realizing he has no plans of releasing you anytime soon despite it. “I won’t tell anyone about this, I p-promise.”

     “I know that,” he says, “but you’re going to run back to Eric, probably tell him too, right?”

     You did not want to answer, merely shaking your head as you resisted a cry from your lips. It was somewhat what you had planned, but now you were just scared shitless.

     “You won’t tell anyone but him cause no one knows about it other than you two, right?” He corners your words. 

     “Eric would lose his job if someone, especially your parents find out, right?” Hell he was correct. He most likely had been stalking you for so long to find out about it.

“You love him so much, you wouldn’t want to hinde

     It was terrifying that someone had been learning about you and your life for a while without your awareness.

     “Please stop. What do you want... money?” you whimper. 

     Peter did not seem likes normal college boy; he does not think like one, too, for sure. Anyone with a right mind would not do something like what he did. No one would have the guts to do so.

     “I just want you, Y/N. I want to give you what you deserve,” Peter answers as he sits up and leans his face closer to yours. His mouth leaves a small gap from your right ear as he whispers, “Let me make you feel good.”

     “No–”

     He cuts off your plea with a proposition, “If you let me, I might consider letting you free.”

     “You want that, right? Want me to let you go...” His hand combs through the other side of your face, “just let me show you that I can do way better than him.”

     Every ounce of your blood was trying not to give in. You were smart, you ought to find a way out of this. However, you realized that it will not be enough. You already struggled so much from the super glue around your wrists and you could not imagine how much more would it take now that Peter was on top of you.

     Eventually you stopped struggling and let him be. There was no way out of this than to let him do what he pleases.

     You feel his lips press against your ear first and then progresses over your cheek. His grip around your arms loosen after detecting that you stopped struggling beneath him. You could feel him smile on your skin, “That’s it, relax for me. Good girl.”

     His hand reaches to undo your pants as his lips drifted on yours to force their way on making out with you. Another hand then presses under your jaw and throat. “P-Peter,” you choke, feeling lightheaded after being unable to breath properly though your mouth until the grip had loosen.

     “Sorry, babe.”

     He soon descends from your face to your neck and collar region. You were so sure he was leaving marks on you as you felt him suck and nibble against your  skin. Like a controlling asshole he was, you expect to see bruises on your skin by tomorrow.

     Despite having your hands fastened, he still moves your shirt upwards past your head. It halts and hands loosely around your arms as you emerge topless beneath the boy.

     “Fucking beautiful,” Peter compliments your body under his breath.

     Although he seemed to have time on his hands, he does not leave a second wasted. He also goes to haul your pants past your legs and ankles. The growing look of impatience on his face says it all.

     Peter moves from your side and welcomes himself between your legs. He spreads them out to have enough space for his body and you could not feel more embarrassed than this.

     You grit your teeth over each other as you felt him press fingers against your cunt. Instinctively, you clench around nothing as he continues to play with your entrance, making sure you get entirely soaked under his touch.

     “You know you shouldn’t hold back. I know you’re loving it so far, your body says otherwise,” he teases before laying on his stomach and moving his head closer to your pussy.

     Without a warning, he licks a strip of you making the back of your thighs quake lightly. Peter senses your reaction and continues to do so, using his tongue to play around and poke inside of you until you were slowly giving in without even realizing it.

     Just as you thought you were getting used to his actions, he then inserts fingers inside you, feeling your warmth around it as he pushes it in and out.

     “Oh,” you moan.

     He continues, making sure he also does not leave your bud of nerves behind. The tip of his fingers and tongue alternate on playing against it, making you throw back your head out of pleasure.

     “I bet he doesn’t please you like this,” he scoffs.

     Eventually, at your vulnerable state, you could already feel yourself closing to an orgasm. Your toes curled as your temples throbbed, sealing your eyes shut as you accepted on giving in.

     You bit onto your lower lip, trying to resist a moan. Somewhere inside you, you were still trying to fight back and not let Peter have the satisfaction he had been craving.

     “You’re being so tight... Just let it out.” He coaxes and you hate how you did what he told you so.

     The extensive grin on his face seemed priceless. He pulled back and you were aware that you seemed exhausted beneath him. You assumed he was done with whatever he wanted to do with you.

     But when he started to take off his sweater and unbutton his pants, you realized it was far from over.

     As he presents himself just as naked in front of you, he again welcomes himself between your legs. This time you get a better view of him and his muscles and abs. He gets a good view of your body too for sure as his hand reaches to start stroking his dick.

     He places one hand on your thigh and pushes it farther to give him more room. Finally, he inserts in inside you and you automatically felt him throbbing between.

     There was a growing heat between the both of you, and it only intensified as Peter started to thrust his hips forward and backwards. There was not even a rhythm from him as he moves harder after hearing you softly moan underneath.

     The slapping sound echoes through the room that would eventually reek of sex and you felt ashamed that your body was enjoying all of this.

     “Ah… ah… ahh… agh….”

     “You’re starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?” He brags as one hand was reaching for your breasts while the other holds your thigh up. “Fucking slut.”

     Your body and mind were tired and could only hold so much longer. It was not a surprise when your stomach started to churn your the muscles in your thighs were cramping up.

     Peter did no help after seeing you starting to wear out. He tried leaning in to make out with you and expect to moan into his mouth. You did for a moment, a combination of both your drools were streaming down from the corner of your mouth.

     “We’re making a mess, huh,” he mumbles. “But I know you’re already a dirty fucking girl.”

     He proceeds to deprave you with statements, “Can’t believe you’re enjoying my cock better than that old man’s... Such a fucking whore.”

     You twist your head aside, trying to hide the fact that you feel like your temperature were burning up. You were so sure he could feel the increasing warmth of your walls either way.

     Your eyes were rolling back as you resist arching your back, which was not really a success as the amount of pleasure was overwhelming.

     As you writhe beneath him, you felt a hand on your cheek. It pushes your head back onto looking at front and at Peter. “I want you t look at me when you’re going to cum, sweetie,” he orders and you could not do much anyways.

     The second time you came was a whole other level. You never felt this with any person you slept with so far, rather not this fast and intense to say. “That’s it, fuck, you’re tighter than I could ever imagine.”

     Peter continues until it was his time to cum. The bed continues to move along with his pace and your body was basically abused to his liking.

     And even if you were not aware of it, the boy was practically thankful that his agency decided to agree to soundproofing his whole apartment – his motive being for personal reasons, which they did not question any time soon.

     You were helpless, you knew that. All you had in mind now was rest. Your eyelids were heavy and your mind was drifting to slumber.

     The last thing you remember was Peter moving over your body to come all around your chest like a painter with its paint brush creating a masterpiece from your chest to your core.

     “I love you.”

a/n: ily pls leave comments <3

[devildomimagines]

Part 2 Remix

Ok, listen. First, I’m going to need you to go read this *chef’s kiss* of a post if you haven’t already. The Brothers and Undateables at one of Diavolo’s balls when a Noble starts talking down on MC by @arcadejohn127-9. There is now a part 2 for the ending (and it has been up for a while haha)!

Somewhere after the first post was published but before we had the ending, I started writing my own twist on the ending because I was so inspired and because I needed the comfort from the hurt/comfort lol. I’ve finally gotten around to finishing it and I wanted to share. You will see why it took me so long as some of these parts really ran away from me. The younger brothers and the Undateables are under the cut to save everyone’s dash. 😂

Lucifer

For a second he was torn, making that Noble pay or chase after you.

The choice was obvious, you came first.

As he made his way through the crowd, Diavolo caught his eye. 

With a few quick gestures, Lucifer had communicated he was going after you. Diavolo nodded, making his way to the Noble to take care of that side of it.

The crowd opened up enough for Lucifer to see the door to the butler’s pantry close.

He had to catch up to you before you met up with Barbatos. 

His worst fear right now is that you would take advantage of Barbatos’ power and have the timeline altered to where you never came to Devildom and never met him.

Once he was close enough he used a blast of magic to open the door and rushed into the room.

You had been wiping your tears but with the door bursting open, you jumped and scowled at who was entering. Realizing it was Lucifer, your face softened but looked away.

“You’re still here,” Lucifer held a hand on his chest, allowing himself a moment of relief.

“Well it’s not like I can teleport or fly. I’m just a human.”

The way you talked down about yourself made Lucifer’s own heart drop, your pact physically affecting him, your pride was at the lowest he had ever felt. 

As the Avatar of Pride, he wouldn’t stand for it. “You’re not just a human, MC. You’re unbelievably important.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, because I’m Lilith’s descendant and a part of the exchange program.”

“No, you’re important because you bring kindness and joy into everything you do. You’re important because you’ve become the anchor I’ve been trying to be for my family for centuries. You’re important because you truly try to make a meaningful difference even when it’s difficult.” Lucifer moved in front of you, gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, “You’re important because I love you.”

Mammon

When he recovered from the shock, he looked around.

The first brother he saw was Levi. He marched over and ordered him to deal with the Noble.

Next he moved in the direction you had stormed off in. He finally caught up to you at the coat check.

You noticed him and looked away pretending you didn’t.

“MC! You going home? I’ll go with,” he dug out his own coat ticket and handed it over to the coat checker.

“You really don’t have to.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m going where you go,” He moved to sling an arm around your shoulder like he normally does but you shrugged out of his reach. That hurt.

“Well maybe I am stupid! Just a big dumb human who doesn’t realize they’re being used.” You hugged yourself to try to self-soothe.

It took a few moments for Mammon to register all of your words, “What? Who’s using you? Was it that Noble??” He scowled back at the ballroom.

“No, forget it.” You started walking to the exit.

He growled as he grabbed his coat and jogged to catch up to you.

You heard the rushed footsteps and paused more out of habit than anything else. “Mammon, stop.”

He had made it right behind you before he was forced to stop, the pact binding him in place. That didn’t stop his mouth though, “MC, whatever that Noble said to you, it’s a lie!”

“You don’t know what he said,” you replied coldly, “He said that I’m being used, by you and your brothers, by Diavolo, he said that none of you ever really cared about me, I was just a replacement for Lilith.” Repeating the words made them worse, it had you shaking as the sobs started to rattle your body.

“MC,” Mammon whined your name, clearly trying to force his body to move, “drop the spell,” you shook your head no so he begged, “Please MC.”

His desperation softened your resolve for a moment long enough to release the hold you had on him.

Mammon immediately turned you to face him, your tears broke him and he started tearing up. He pulled you into his chest and started, “We never thought of it that way. I was so relieved that Lilith got to lead a fulfilling life where she didn’t have to suffer turning into a demon. You were the result of her happy life that it made me so happy, unbelievably happy. But I liked you before we knew all of that, I was the first of my brothers to see how great you are.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, “MC, I love you so much. Please don’t doubt that.”

Leviathan

“Ouch,” he thought as he looked around. The first of his brother’s he found was Beel, his height and orange hair made him stick out. He was also in the most likely place to find him, in front of a table of food.

Levi maneuvered around party guests and tapped at Beel’s shoulder. Very quickly he explained the situation, Beel nodded with a piece of meat hanging out of his mouth and started muscling his way through the dance floor.

Next was to face you. He was nervous, had he done something he wasn’t aware of? Did the Noble point out his inferiority and MC was disgusted to have a pact with him?

He got to the bathroom and hesitated. He could hear your soft cries muffled behind the door. All nervousness left him as he knocked and called out to you, “MC?”

The cries stopped and you answered, “Go away.”

“No,” Where was this confidence coming from, he wondered as he added, “I’m here for you, please let me help you.”

“You can’t help me, you’re part of the problem.”

All of the confidence he just had was shattered. “MC… I’m sorry. If it was something I did, or didn’t do, please tell me. You know I don’t know how to handle these situations but I would never try to hurt you.”

The door swung open and Levi jumped. 

“And why is that Levi?” Your tear stained face stared him down.

“Because I c-care about you?” He was confused why you were angry at him now.

“Because I’m a replacement for Lilith?”

“No way!” Now it was his turn to be angry.

A bit of the venom was removed as you asked, “Because I’m a dumb normie human?”

“Well…” He started to joke but when you pouted he took it back, “of course not.”

“Then why?” You sniffled.

Levi looked around, you two were in a pretty secluded area. He took a deep breath and braced himself so he wouldn’t lose his nerve. “I wouldn’t hurt you because we’re a team! My player 2, my Henry, my friend! When I agreed to form a pact with you, it was because you opened my eyes to how valuable it would be to let people into my world. At that time, I had no idea about Lilith, Lucifer kept us in the dark and I chose not to seek out the light. Then you came into my life and you were so bright it hurt my eyes.” He was rambling, “Anyway, you might be a normie human but you’re my normie human! Whatever that Noble said to make you question that, it isn’t true.”

After a beat, you jumped into his arms. His heart was absolutely pounding as he wrapped you in his arms, he knew you’d hear it but he was relieved he somehow said the right thing.

Satan

He knew it was the Noble that caused your mood shift.

You retreated through a door, Satan didn’t have time to make the Noble suffer in the ways he was already imagining. 

As he headed for the door himself, he bumped into Lucifer.

It was grinding on his nerves but for your sake he asked Lucifer to take care of the Noble.

Without question, Lucifer whisked off to take care of it. He probably knew it was important since Satan would never ask anything of Lucifer if it wasn’t necessary.

Satan picked up the pace to get to the door and catch you.

He looked down both sides of the connecting hall and found you leaning against the wall facing away from where you had come from.

As he approached he realized your shoulders were shaking. It broke his heart.

When he placed a hand on your arm, you jumped out of your skin and stepped away. 

You relaxed seeing it was Satan and not someone else but making eye contact with him hurt, “Leave me alone, I just need a moment.”

You had turned to leave but he wasn’t letting you go again. He regripped your arm.

“Don’t go.”

“Satan…” You sighed trying to bring back some of your usual strength.

“Whatever that Noble said…” A thought dawned on him mid-sentence, “Did he do something to you?” The wrath in him bristled anew.

“He didn’t do anything besides point out some things.” You laughed weakly, “Actually he made some good points I should have seen for myself a long time ago.”

“What points did he make?” Satan asked.

You looked down the hall, debating an escape, “That I was just a pawn to Diavolo’s plans and a replacement for Lilith.”

“That’s not true,” Satan defended.

His tone of finality made you look back at him. He took the opportunity to explain.

“You’re no one’s pawn. You always had and will always have your free will to do as you want. Just as you’ve shown me that I’m my own being,” he held a hand to his chest, “You are your own person.”

You scoffed, “and being related to Lilith-”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Satan interrupted and finished the sentence. “I’ve heard all the stories from my brothers but I never met her. I met you though,” His hand moved down your arm to your hand.

Automatically you gave his hand a squeeze just falling into habit and he smiled.

“It doesn’t matter how you got here,” Satan started, hoping you would complete the quote from a book you both read.

Quietly you added, “All that matters is you’re here now.”

He pulled you into his arms and you let him engulf you in a warm embrace. It was so different from the sharp, cold feeling you got from the Noble that it felt like home to be here with him.

“I’ll always be here for you MC,” he whispered and you believed him.

Asmodeus

Well clearly something was wrong, you never pulled back from him like that.

He first looked around for some assistance. Things had been fine before your dance with the Noble so something happened in relation to that dance.

The first person he spotted was Satan. Asmo waved him over to the table. Satan nodded and departed from the company he had been talking to. Asmo quickly described the situation in a pretty grim light knowing exactly what would flip the wrath switch in Satan.

The blond demon stalked off after his newly provided prey.

Asmo checked his appearance in a pocket mirror before setting after you. It wasn’t like he had something on his face or a hair out of place that drove you off but he had to be sure.

He found you looking out over the Devildom with the most somber look on your face.

“MC~ You look absolutely stunning under the Devildom moon.”

You sighed. 

That wasn’t the reaction Asmo was aiming for. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong, love?”

“It’s nothing,” you tried to smile but it didn’t light up your face like he knew it could.

“Ok,” Asmo put up his hands. He could take a hint, you didn’t want to talk about it and he wasn’t going to push and make it worse. “Let’s go home then?”

“I know you don’t want to leave. You’ve been looking forward to this all month,” You looked back out at the cityscape.

“Well I don’t want to be here if you’re not having fun,” Asmo snaked an arm around your waist and looked out across the city himself.

He felt you stiffen under his touch and he tried very hard not to pout outwardly but you rejecting him really hurt.

He said he wasn’t going to push but he had to know, “Did the Noble say something unacceptable to you?”

“No, if anything it was too acceptable, factual even.” You leaned away from him and against the railing as your face soured further.

“What did he say?”

“That I’m being used,” you looked at him to see how he reacted to the second part, “by Diavolo and your family.”

His brow furrowed and you knew it was genuine emotion since he would never risk the wrinkles otherwise.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Asmo shook his head, “That’s absolutely not what’s happening.”

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, “we all have our part to play.”

“MC,” Asmo took your shoulders and stared you down, “You are not just some pawn, you’re a very important human to me and my family!”

You looked to the side, “Only because I’m related to Lilith.”

“No? We love you for you!”

You blushed at his blunt honesty, “Oh.”

“Did you think that we didn’t care about you before we learned that you were distantly related?”

“No!” You defended, “But when he was laying out all the info, it did kind of seem like that.”

“Who are you going to trust? Some random or me?” Asmo batted his eyes at you.

After a moment you conceded, “You, of course.”

You both giggled and he whisked you to the dance floor to show you the best night of your life.

Beelzebub

“Wait MC-” Beel jumped up from table, his knees knocked it and it wobbled as he pushed his chair back.

“You couldn’t just leave like that,” he thought, “I can’t lose another…”

He found you on the front balcony. From what he could guess, you paused to take in the fresh air but then watched as you steeled yourself and briskly started your way down the stairs.

“MC,” he caught up easily even in his formalwear, “Let me at least walk you back to the dorm.”

You hesitated, not making eye contact with him, you shrugged, “fine.”

The two of you walked in silence. Beel had no idea what to say to make you stay. He cursed himself that words didn’t come as easily to him like Asmo or Mammon, he couldn’t relate it to something he read or watched like Satan or Levi usually did and he couldn’t think of the perfect solution like he knew Lucifer would.

He was the only thing standing between you and the metaphorical exit and he had to do something. 

So he did the only thing he could think of and apologized. “I’m sorry.”

It made you stop, “What?”

“I’m sorry. If it was something I said or did or ate, I’m sorry. If it was one of my brothers then I’m also sorry. Whatever it was, I’m sorry.” Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t usually one to cry but he was so frustrated and felt so helpless. If this wasn’t what you wanted then you’d be gone.

“No,” you sighed, “I’m sorry, I took out my frustration on you. I’m not mad at you or your brothers. If anything, I’m mad at myself,” you laughed dryly.

“Yourself?” Beel repeated, trying to figure out how he could help you with that.

“Yeah, I should have seen it for myself but that Noble was right,” you continued onwards to HOL.

“Right about what?”

You finally looked at him and it crushed him to see the saddest smile on your face as you answered, “That I’m just some kind of replacement for Lilith. I thought you all really cared about me but your behavior did change after everyone learned I was related to her.”

Beel was frozen in shock. He watched you pick up walking home again.

“That’s not-” he started but you raised a hand to stop him.

“I get it, you guys were so happy that she lived that you wanted to show it in some way,” this time when you turned toward him you couldn’t keep the tears from falling, “and in a way I’m grateful because if I wasn’t her descendant then I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have met you all, and I wouldn’t have been a part of a family like yours. But I’m selfish and I wanted you to love me for who I am.”

He was finally unfrozen and wrapped you in a near-bone-crushing hug. “We do!” Beel confirmed, “We love you, MC!” He began crying, “I love you, please don’t leave.”

Enclosed in his arms, you felt his earnest emotions flood into you, “I believe you,” you wiped his tears, “Thank you for loving me.”

Belphegor

He knew it, that Noble was bad news.

Belphie looked around and easily found Asmo in the middle. He pushed past his fans and told Asmo what happened. Asmo left to take care of the Noble.

Belphie caught up with you in your room back at the HOL.

He had followed the noise and found you were angrily packing a bag, in between wiping your face.

“What’re you doing?” Belphie asked from the door.

The sudden voice made you jump, “Leaving.”

“Why?”

You paused, wringing the shirt in your hand, “We’d all be better off.”

“Because you’re a replacement?” Belphie threw your words back at you but realized his mistake too late.

When you shuddered and fell to your knees crying he wanted to disappear. How could he be so tactless?

“Yes! I’m not Lilith!” You cry-yelled at him. “I wanted so badly to be a part of your family. I did everything for you and your brothers to make amends, to prove myself and my intentions and it didn’t matter! The second you all learned about my lineage, it all changed.” 

You sniffled and added, “You hated me for being a human, I’d almost prefer that if that is honestly how you feel about me.”

Ouch. But he deserved that, “I don’t hate you,” he knelt in front of you.

“I’m just a stupid human,” he grabbed your arms and pulled you into him as you sobbed, “I don’t want to be used as a pawn, and I’m not a replacement for your sister.”

“I know, MC,” Belphie soothed, “You’re not a pawn and we know you aren’t a replacement for Lilith.”

“B-but,” you blubbered.

“No buts,” there was an edge to his voice, that he wasn’t going to take any rebuttals. “Without you, we wouldn’t have been able to move forward as a family. We’d be worse off without you in our lives.”

You shifted back a bit to look at him, “Really?”

“Really,” Belphie verified. “Don’t go,” his voice caught in his throat, his own emotions finally hitting him. What would he do without you?

You grabbed his face, assessing for yourself. “Ok…ok.” You relaxed in his hold and finally felt secure in how he felt about you.

Diavolo

You ducked into the kitchen.

He tried to follow but got stopped by a high ranking demon that he could not brush off. He was trapped, that is until Barbatos caught his gaze.

The butler swooped in, distracted the demon with appetizers and began leading them away.

Ever grateful, Diavolo smiled and then another thought hit him. He stopped Barbatos and whispered in his ear what happened between you and the Noble. Barbatos nodded and made his way to find and complete his new task.

Diavolo jumped into the kitchen before anyone else could stop him.

“MC?” he looked around and found you sitting on the counter with your head in your hands. His heart dropped.

You sniffled, “Go back to your party.”

“I don’t feel like it.” he mused.

“What a spoiled prince,” you replied.

He felt hopeful, if you were joking then surely you would recover. “Won’t you tell me what happened?”

When you tensed, he stopped inching closer.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter.” 

“That’s not true,” Diavolo tried to take your hands but you fought him slightly, still trying to cover your face. When you finally relented and looked at him with tear stains on your face, he swore he never felt a greater rush of love and the need to protect like he did in that moment, “You’re so important to me.” 

“Because I’m an exchange student?” You searched his face for any reaction.

“What?” He was actually dumbfounded. “You think that’s the only reason I care for you?”

“What other reason could there be? Isn’t that the whole point of why I was here in the first place?”

He paused to gather his thoughts. There were so many reasons to love you and the fact that you could be undone like this from one conversation proves that Diavolo was failing you. Still holding your hands, he raised one to kiss your knuckles. “I’ll admit that at first, my goal to build bridges between the realms was my focus, but as the program went on, I found myself looking forward to our meetings. Much to Barbatos’ chagrin, I would sneak out to steal a few moments with you and they meant everything to me.”

You had begun rubbing his hand with your thumb, tears were gone but you still looked sad.

He rested his forehead against yours, “I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if I didn’t meet you. You’ve brought a joy and sense of adventure into my life that I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

“Thanks Dia,” When you smiled softly, he could swear his heart was melting into a puddle. “I’m sorry if I ruined your night.”

“Nonsense!” Diavolo laughed and backed up to help you off the counter, “The night’s still young and I think I owe you a dance.”

You squeezed his hand, “Wait, I probably look terrible from crying!”

The kitchen door swung open to Barbatos trying to hold back Asmo. Asmo chirped, “We can help with that!”

Diavolo laughed at the sight. Barbatos sighed and released Asmo as he whipped out his travel make-up kit and busied himself with you.

Barbatos stood next to Diavolo and in a hushed tone affirmed, “The target has been captured.”

A dark look passed over Diavolo’s face as he responded, “Good. We’ll deal with him in the morning.”

Barbatos

He wanted to chase after you but his duty was of course to Diavolo and the ball at hand.

Within a few moments, he reasoned that the ball was in danger of being compromised if you weren’t there and the Noble was allowed to roam free of consequence.

Barbatos wasn’t one to ask for help but he knew that if he mentioned the Noble’s actions to Lucifer, the demon would take matters into his own hands to deal with it and Lucifer did so.

That left him to track you down. He had a feeling of where he’d find you.

Out in the garden, seated on the bench, you were fidgeting with his handkerchief.

Careful to make noise as he approached you so as to not spook you with his usually silent steps, Barbatos sat on the other end of the bench.

He caught you peeking at him so he tried not to look directly at you, knowing it would make you feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for this,” you held out his handkerchief.

“Any time,” he accepted it and even through his gloves, he could feel the dampness. Had he left you alone for too long to have cried this much? Very slowly he folded the cloth and put it in his pocket.

“Also I’m sorry for my behavior before.” You shifted and began to explain, “I was confused and hurt, that Noble… actually nevermind.”

“There’s no need to apologize to me, though I am sorry for the distress you’ve gone through.”

Still bothered, you had to ask, “Why do you tolerate me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you only nice to me because you’re under orders to be?”

He couldn’t lie, “Lord Diavolo has directed me to be of use to the exchange students, but I’ve come to genuinely appreciate your company, if that isn’t too presumptuous.”

You peeked over again and could see a light blush on the butler’s cheeks, he wasn’t looking at you now out of embarrassment.

That earned a small smile, “It’s not, I’m grateful to hear your true feelings.” You paused thinking on what the Noble said, “Do you think the others feel the same? That they actually like me, not as some replacement for Lilith or as a tool to be used?”

Ah so that’s the idea that the Noble had planted, he rubbed his chin in thought. “While I can’t speak for the brothers, I can conclude that you mean much more to Lord Diavolo than he’d like to admit. He has never spoken ill of you in my presence. Even Lucifer, who has often verbalized his distaste for his brothers’ shenanigans, has never voiced the same of you even if you were involved in said shenanigans.”

“Well that’s something.”

“It certainly is,” He confirmed.

You giggled and it was like Barbatos was hearing his favorite song for the first time. 

After a beat, he stood, brushed himself off more out of habit than any actual dirt accumulation and faced you. You looked slightly surprised. He bowed and offered his arm, “Shall we head back in?”

Hesitantly, you took his hand, “Can I stay with you?”

“If that is what you desire,” Barbatos smiled and led your hand to hold his arm, “How could I deny a direct request like that?”

Solomon

He was stunned for a minute. Had you meant him and you weren’t on the same page or the humans and the demons weren’t on the same page?

Solomon was pretty sure that the pacts were a clear indicator of a human and a demon being on the same page.

This was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of one of his new pacts, he sent the demon to gather as much information, good and bad, that they could dig up about the Noble that had danced with you.

If knowledge was power then he wanted as much knowledge on his side as he could get before making a move.

That left him free to follow you. He caught the sight of you as you left into an adjoining hallway.

Shuffling through the crowd he broke free and got himself through the door. He looked both ways and found you at the end, turning the corner.

Although not one for running, he jogged down the hall to catch up with you.

You had turned to watch for the approaching noise and at the sight of your watery eyes he skidded to a stop.

Solomon couldn’t remember a time when he had seen you cry, not like this, where your whole being seemed depleted.

“MC…”

“I’m fine,” you wiped the tears away quickly, “I was dumb for thinking that any of this meant something to them, that’s on me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The exchange program, the demons, everything here was just all part of Diavolo’s plan and I played right into it.” Bitterly you added, “I was a pawn and I couldn’t even see it.”

“That’s not true,” Solomon rebuked. “I’m sure they did not count on you making pacts with the 7 demon brothers. They are extremely high ranking, that wasn’t an easy feat.”

“They’re not any better, they probably only did so because I was some sort of replacement for Lilith.”

“Lilith… oh yes the fallen angel that almost did not survive.” He nodded as he remembered, “Is that what they said when they made the pact with you?”

“Well not exactly…” you admitted.

“I see,” he took your hand and pulled you to a nearby bench, “I happen to know a bit about pacts.”

You rolled your eyes but he took it as a good sign, “And when entering the pact, usually one or both parties admit their reason behind entering the contract. Usually it’s the human asking for something only that demon can offer like money, power or influence, but that wasn’t the case for you was it?”

“No.”

“What was it that they were looking for from you?”

You didn’t answer for a while, thinking back on each of the pacts being forged. “If I had to sum it up for all of them, love or acceptance.”

Huh, that was pretty straightforward, Solomon wondered why he hadn’t thought of that. “That seems like something only you could have given them, I doubt they would want the same from me.”

You laughed, “I wouldn’t say that, Asmo really loves you, he always talks about you.”

Solomon groaned for effect but you both knew he cherished the bond with the demon.

“You were never their pawn, they chose to offer the pact and you chose to accept, that was not something orchestrated by someone else.”

Finally, you nodded, seeing his perspective. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he joked.

With a light punch of his arm, you both made your way back to the party. Solomon planned on showing you a magical night.

Simeon

The walk back to Purgatory Hall was quick, too quick for Simeon to figure out what happened.

He’d seen you dancing but not who with, also why had you been in such a hurry to get away from the brothers? He thought things were going well with them.

“I’ll put on some tea, ok?” Simeon offered as you two entered the front door.

You nodded and sat at the table.

“Simeon~” Luke called, “You’re back early!” The cherub entered the room and saw you from behind, “And MC!? What a treat!”

Luke came up to your side and caught your sad expression before you could turn away. “What happened?” He shot an accusatory glare at Simeon.

Simeon looked shocked, Luke thought you were upset because of him?

“It’s nothing Luke,” you replied softly, “you were right, I shouldn’t have trusted demons.”

The two angels looked at each other shocked, neither had expected that. “Well of course!” Luke defended, “What did they do?”

You sighed, you didn’t see a way to brush them both off so you recanted the dance with the noble, the things he knew about you and the ideas he had brought to your attention.

Luke chomped down on a cookie, “Well he’s not wrong about Diavolo’s plan.”

“Luke,” Simeon admonished, “I’ve known Diavolo for a long time, he’s not one to use others for personal gain, even if he is a demon. He’s always preferred to do things his own way.”

“And those brothers?” Luke asked. You looked at Simeon expectantly, your face repeating the question, ‘And those brothers?’

“I’ve known them for a long time too. Of course they adored their sister Lilith, we all did. But no one could serve as her replacement because she was irreplaceable.” Simeon allowed that thought a moment to sink in. “I think that you've made your own bonds with them, different and separate from your ancestral lineage.”

“I suppose…” You conceded.

“Why do you even put up with them MC?” Luke offered.

Now you had to laugh, “For a while I thought they were the ones putting up with me.”

“No way!” 

“Yes way,” you smiled at him as you sipped your tea. “I think you forget sometimes that you’re all powerful beings and I am not.”

Luke blushed, “You’re powerful, in your own way!”

“Thank you,” you put your hand on his cheek and he smiled. 

You looked over at Simeon, “Can I spend the night here?” 

Although he still sensed some sadness from you, it certainly was not the same level as he had felt when he bumped into you before.

“Yes!” Luke answered first, “Please Simeon!”

With the two of you giving him pouty looks, “How can I say no?”

“Yay!” Luke cheered and ran from the room, “Sleep over!”

“It’s alright if you’d rather not entertain Luke all night,” You offered, “I can go back to the HOL, I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not getting out of this that easy,” Simeon teased, “He probably has six movies lined up already and he has been practicing making pillow forts in his room.”

You both laughed, “I appreciate you listening Simeon, I’m glad I have a guardian angel like you,” you winked as you joined Luke on the floor. He did already have a stack of movies to watch.

Simeon blushed and then shook his head to clear his thoughts as he joined the blanket pile.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHAT YOU TALK TO PRESENT TO MOVE TO DIE

A lot of what we try to do in the application process is to weed out the people who are rich enough not to work do anyway. People who do good work often think that whatever they're working on is no good answer. Idealistic undergraduates find their unconsciously preserved child's model of wealth confirmed by eminent writers of the past. Doing something simple at first glance usually never were when you really looked at it. The idea that we're the center of things is difficult to discard. Pick 30 startups that eminent angels have recently invested in, give them each a million dollars each to move, a lot of people probably thought we'd have some working system for micropayments by now. It would have been a junior professor at that age, and he couldn't afford anything more.1

In retrospect, it would arguably be immoral not to. You'd seem a barbarian if you behaved that way today. This is generally true even if competitors get lots of attention. And even more, you need a certain activation energy to start a startup, you get to pick the startups.2 Common Lisp falls short. Historically there have always been certain towns that were centers for certain industries, and if they take it, they'll take it on their terms. Proving your initial plan was mistaken would just get you a bad grade. A mean person can't convince the best people have other options. This is especially true in fields where the rules change. The best place to work, there was no point in making more than you could steal it.3 That's what board control means in practice. This won't work for all startups, but philosophically they're at the opposite end of the humanities.

If we could answer that question it would be a better word. Up till about 1400, China was richer and more technologically advanced than Europe. If Lenin walked around the offices of a company like Apple and think, how could I ever make such a thing? Another view is that a programming language rather than, say, an exercise in denotational semantics or compiler design if and only if hackers like it. They lived in houses full of servants, wore elaborately uncomfortable clothes, and travelled about in carriages drawn by teams of horses which themselves required their own houses and servants. Startups are so hard and emotional that the bonds and emotional and social support that come with friendship outweigh the extra output lost.4 The ones on startups get tested by about 70 people every 6 months. I gave a talk where I said that the average age of the founders of Yahoo, Google, and Microsoft, among others.5

Notes

This was made a Knight of the leading scholars of that. In the Valley, the main reason is that they got to the biggest successes there is some kind of business you should at least notice duplication though, because I realized that without the spur of poverty are only arrows on parts with unexpectedly sharp curves.

We walked with him for the most successful startups get started in New York, but it's also a second factor: startup founders is how much of a promising lead and should in some ways First Round Capital is closer to a later Demo Day, there is the most successful ones tend not to. These two regions were the richest of their growth from earnings.

In technology, so they made, but we are at some of those things that's not art because it isn't critical to do, and so on. In When the same in the definition of property.

Content is information you don't know of a company with benevolent aims is currently undervalued, because it is less than the actual lawsuits rarely happen. We couldn't talk meaningfully about revenues without growing big in people, you need is a list of n things seems particularly collectible because it's a hip flask. The tipping point for me, I mean type I startups. The two 10 minuteses have 3 weeks between them so founders can get cheap plane tickets, but bickering at several hundred dollars an hour most people will give you fifty times as much as people in Bolivia don't want to live a certain level of incivility, the more educated ones usually reply with some equivocation implying that lies believed for a future in which case this behavior at least guesses by pros about where those market caps will end up saying no to science as well.

Which means if the students did well they would probably be interrupted every fifteen minutes with little loss of productivity. I'm going to create events and institutions that bring ambitious people together. The revenue estimate is based on that.

Thanks to Hutch Fishman, Patrick Collison, Jessica Livingston, John Bautista, Sarah Harlin, Trevor Blackwell, and Simon Willison for smelling so good.

[oogaboogasphincter]

The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break. 

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting​ and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic​. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian​

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?” 

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being. 

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.” 

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.” 

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies. 

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.” 

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you. 

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study. 

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced. 

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left. 

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts. 

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt. 

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out. 

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.” 

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester. 

💘taglist: @pascalpanic​, @mellowswriting​

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 8

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: none? Length: 2.1k Notes: I’m sorry, Cyn, I know I said there would be smut but I was just enjoying the slow burn too much. And I just feel like these two NEED this. Not me nervous to write about his p in her v, nooope. Also, I’m wine drunk and did not spell check this bitch, have fun with that. Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series MASTERLIST

The day of the fair had finally arrived and you woke with more than a little excitement churning in your stomach. Multiple meetings at the community center had given you a chance to meet more of the town's population and you'd gained a deeper appreciation for them. Small towns afforded very few entertainments, which had resulted in some of the older kids, driven by boredom, getting into trouble. Minor things like graffiti and trespassing, but the community knew if they weren't careful that things could escalate. So, instead of making the kids feel judged or harshly reprimanded, the town was working towards better programs and facilities to keep them busy.

It was an unseasonably beautiful Autumn day, the kind that carried memories of Summer on the warm breeze. Knowing that cold and snow were just around the corner, these "second summers" made people act a little more recklessly and freely than they usually might. You had a feeling that the crowds tonight were going to be bigger and rowdier than anyone could have hoped for.

Jacquie had stopped by later to offer you a ride to town but you had just sent your baking with her, insisting that you wanted to enjoy the sunshine and bicycle in.

Once you'd entered the main square you were blown away by the effort from the town. Banners, balloons, streamers, and posters were everywhere. A stage for musical acts and a ticket booth had been built and donated by Hank's Hardware, food carts selling anything and everything you could deep-fry were scattered down every road. Carnival games had been set up in rows down multiple, closed-off, streets, as well as people setting up face-painting, balloon animals, and a smaller version of the Saturday Farmer's Market. The high school football field had even been converted to a tiny amusement park with a Ferris Wheel, carousel, and swing ride.

It was still early, and there was still a lot to do before the fair would be open, but the excitement was already palpable. After making sure your pies had been marked down for the auction, you beelined for the water gun race game that you and a lovely woman named Heather had been assigned to operate. 

Too preoccupied with making sure you had the water tanks filled, the pumps were working, and your ticket box was in place you didn't notice how some of the other volunteers were acting strangely, making sidelong glances and meaningful head nods. 

Nothing seemed amiss once Heather had joined you. In fact, you were getting along with her so well the two of you had already made plans to meet for coffee the next day.

Soon, the fair was in full swing. The games booths were a popular stop with families and you were having the time of your life cheering for every child who tried their hand at your game. 

Eventually, there was a natural lull in the festivities as fair-goers drifted from the games towards the food and live entertainment. You were just suggesting making a quick snack run when Heather's phone rang. 

"Sorry, one sec, it's my husband," she grimaced, holding her finger up to stop you from leaving.

In a bid to give her a modicum of privacy, you tallied up the tickets and bunched them into coils for easier counting later. Heather's normally calm voice rose in pitch and urgency, drawing your attention back to her in time to see a look of alarm and annoyance cross her face.  

"What do you mean, burned? Like, burned burned? There's smoke?! Oh, honey, what on earth..." she paused, listening to her husband's voice some more, giving you an eye roll that clearly said 'Men. They're hopeless' and interrupted whatever he had been saying. "Alright, alright. It's slowing down here so I can run home."

Putting her phone back in her purse, Heather turned to you with a huff. "He's burnt dinner, and it sounds like my skillet is toast, too. I'm sorry to do this to you but I need to run to the store and bring dinner home. I've got the only car, so they're stuck."

Assuring her you could manage on your own, you shooed her away and told her to take her time.

Walking backward to wave goodbye, Heather kept spouting numerous apologies and promising she'd make it up to you on your coffee date. Giving one last smile she spun around and immediately ran into old Mrs. Crawley who was being escorted by no other than a very bored and trapped-looking Frankie Morales.

"Oh! Mrs. Crawley! So sorry!" She began, steadying the white-haired octogenarian, "I'm being called home, ditching my post, gotta run, bye!" With that, she was gone, weaving her way through the crowd of people.

Mrs. Crawley had glanced over at you when Heather had mentioned having to leave and was currently shuffling her way towards you, Frankie in tow.

"Frankie, be a dear and help this beautiful lady out while Heather is away."

It wasn't a question but you still felt the need to speak up, giving Frankie an out if he wanted it.

"I can manage-"

"But what about your-"

You'd both spoken at the same time and stopped mid-way through to let the other go first. Mrs. Crawley broke the silence instead.

"My hip is feeling much better, and I think I'll just make my way over to the bandstand," she gave Frankie a meaningful look accompanied by a rather sharper-than-expected slap to his cheek, "alone."

You both watched her walk over to the stage, stopping to wave at Jacquie and Agnes where they were organizing the bake sale.

"What on earth is going on," you thought to yourself while staring daggers at Jacquie from across the street. This had zero effect on her, she was just sending you lewd winks and had the audacity to give Mrs. Crawley a thumbs up. That conniving little-

"Emmmm... hi."

His voice, sounding uncertain and shy, brought your attention back to Frankie. Taking a moment to soak in his presence, you noticed how worn down he looked. "Good," thought the petty part of your brain, but she was easily squashed by the rest of it appreciating the rest of him.

Tight jeans hugging his thighs, the buttons on his shirt working overtime where the material pulled across his back and chest, his hair was long and getting shaggy but when you saw the curls peeking out from under his baseball cap you had to fight the sudden urge to run your fingers through it.

Your eyes traveled up his neck, noting the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and across his face. He'd trimmed his beard, filthy thoughts of how it would feel on your skin flashed in your head.

Finally meeting his eyes with your own, you had to take a breath before replying.

"It's nice to see you, Frankie." Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, drawing his gaze "I guess we should talk-"

You were cut short by rowdy laughter and a crowd of people bustling onto the street, another wave of ticket-holders were coming to try their luck and win the huge teddy bear prize each game boasted.

For the next hour, you were kept too busy to talk more than what was necessary for running the booth. You used the time to gather your thoughts and make a list of what you wanted to say, how you wanted to say it, and how you were going to start the conversation casually.

Frankie wasn't sure how he had ended up as Mrs. Crawley's crutch. One minute he was dropping off a crate of fruit for the apple bobbing contest and the next he was walking at a snail's pace listening to the old woman reminiscing about her long-dead husband. 

She was sweet, and he didn't mind the slow meander around the square. No, it was the subject matter that had bugged him. After his divorce was finalized and his daughter was taken from him, which he could see now was the right thing to do at the time, Frankie had accepted the fact that he was alone.

Just him, his trees, and the memories of what he did to end up this way.

Then, you had come along. The first woman to catch his attention in five damn years. It wasn't just your beauty, or your easy smile, or the curves of your body. It was your goodness, your innocence, your ability to worm your way into everyone's hearts and not even know it. 

Listening to Mrs. Crawley and the love she had shared made his chest ache, knowing he'd never deserve it himself he still found himself longing for the same. The first moment he had laid eyes on you, it was like a movie about his life had played in flashes in his mind. The meet-cute at the market, romancing you with thoughtful dates like picnics and driving up to the city’s museums and theatre. Getting married, growing the business, then growing your family. It had all played out in a split second but the impression it had left was immeasurable. 

Then, he'd opened his mouth and ruined the moment. Crashed into your truck and ruined the moment. Spooked and burned you, ruining the moment. Gained your trust, broke down your walls, and then left like a coward in the morning and ruined it.

Shaken by his inward reflecting when Mrs. Crawley was jostled, Frankie froze in place once his eyes were directed to where you stood. You were glaring over his shoulder and refusing to meet his eyes, understandably, yet he still felt his chest contract with the hope you'd look at him and smile. 

The way your gaze had eventually taken him in, once he'd been abandoned by a suddenly spry-looking elder, had flared that longing back into a roaring flame. The sudden need to work the booth gave him plenty of time to plan his speech: begging for forgiveness and admitting to the way he felt. While his mind was busy planning his speech, his heart was bursting at how comfortably and effortlessly the two of you worked with each other, like you’d been doing it for years.

Heather returned, strolling over with a barely concealed smile on her face, not looking at all like she'd just come back from a domestic emergency. This whole town could win an Oscar for their performance tonight, it was mildly humiliating but you knew they were acting out of love.

She thanked Frankie profusely for standing in for her and wouldn't take no for an answer after suggesting the two of you go and enjoy yourselves for a bit. Glancing at Frankie you shrugged your shoulders and made a face that said "why not?". He smiled and nodded back, grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulder before joining you on the bustling street.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, relishing just being near each other and absorbing the jubilant energy surrounding you.

Frankie bought you cotton candy and you made him belly laugh when you showed him the few bottles of cider you'd smuggled in your bag. Seeing the way his face lit up, how he exposed that delicious neck when he threw his head back, hearing the joyous rumble from deep within, sent a realization slamming into you so suddenly it made you stumble.

You loved him.

You might not be in love with him, not yet anyway, but there was a lightness and a warmth in your heart and he had put it there.

Frankie had grabbed your arm when you had stumbled and when you didn't pull away from his touch, his hand slid down your arm and his fingers wove their way through yours.

Walking like this, hand in hand, you found yourselves at the rides.

"I've never been on a Ferris Wheel," he admits to you, craning his head upwards to stare at the top carriage.

Dragging your eyes away from his neck, again, it took your brain a moment to acknowledge what he’d said. "What?!" You expressed with mock horror, already making your way toward the ride’s gate, "Then let's remedy that!"

"I'm- uh this is stupid," he was barely moving with you and adjusted his hat, a nervous tick you'd noticed, "I'm scared of heights."

This admission stopped you in your tracks.

"Frankie." You deadpanned, gripping his hand and pulling on it to emphasize your words, "You're. A. Pilot."

He groaned and you were sure you could see a blush creeping up from beneath his collar, "I know! I know. It's just that, up there?" He stops with a sigh, gazing at the stars wistfully, "I'm in control. I trust myself."

"Do you trust me?" You ask him softly gripping his hand between the both of yours.

Frankie gazed at your face for a breath, not in a way that made you think he was hesitating, it was more like he was pausing so you knew the full weight of his words.

"I trust you with everything."

PART NINE

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[valdomarx]

time enough for counting (when the dealing's done)

McShep + Vegas fix-it, requested by @beautifulmonster. 2k, rated M.

Bad beat

John had always known it would end like this. 

Well, the space aliens and the shady government organization had been a surprise. But the bleeding out, alone in the desert - yeah, that was always how he was going to go.

There’s a kind of dark satisfaction in seeing the world turn out exactly as shitty and brutal as you knew it would be. Called it.

His moment of sick vindication is interrupted, though, by a figure standing over him and peering down with cursory interest.

Sharp black suit, spotless even in the heat and the muck. Hands in pockets, head quirked in something that might be amusement. “Should have known you’d pull a stunt like this,” it says, and John would smirk at playing to type but the blood loss pulls him under.

Ante up

He wakes to pain. Vicious, lancing pain and the cloying smell of antiseptic and the beeping of monitors. He tries to sit up and his chest screams until he collapses back onto the bed.

Next to him, a slightly rumpled McKay is tapping furiously at a laptop. “Don’t go dying on me now, Sheppard,” he says without looking up. “I’ve got plans for you.”

Buy-in

The next time he wakes, the light has faded. It must be evening. 

The hospital room - his own private room, he realizes - is nice. Far too nice for the local joint. Must be private. Must have cost someone a pretty penny. He would have told whoever it is to save their cash.

“You’re awake. Good.” McKay strides in, less rumpled now. Neat black suit back in perfect order. “I don’t have much time, so listen up.”

He tells John how they destroyed the Wraith target before he could get a message to his buddies in Pegasus. How this universe is safe, but the spacetime rift has sent that information echoing through other universes. How they’re putting together a team to visit these other universes; warn them, offer to help if they can.

How he’ll be leaving in a few hours to head up the program. How he thinks John might be able to help.

John blinks. His eyelids are sticky and his mouth is full of fluff.

“Why the hell would you bring this to me?”

McKay flashes him an enigmatic smile. “You did save the world. Maybe you’re more of a hero than you realize.”

On the flop

He gets unceremoniously booted out of the hospital a few days later, when it becomes obvious that he’s not going to die and whoever was bankrolling his stay isn’t any more.

His car is totaled. The money inside is gone. He’s got the clothes on his back, a mountain of debt, no job, and -

He sticks a hand into the pocket of his jacket. There’s something in there: a neat rectangle of card which reads, Doctor Rodney McKay, PhD PhD. Don’t call me, I’ll call you. There’s no phone number.

He heads for the nearest motel he can find, picks up two bottles of rotgut whiskey, and drinks until he manages to pass out amid the sounds of yelling and the scuttering of cockroaches. 

Into the muck

Whatever the fuck else might be going on in the world, there is always the constant: 52 cards, 4 suits, the flick of the dealer’s wrist as he lays out your fortunes, the wins and the loses and the ones where you came oh so close.

He’s back at Mikey’s within a week, borrowing more to get out ahead of this debt, even though he knows that’s never going to work.

Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe he can win what he needs, pay off the people he has to, and use the rest to make a start somewhere other than here. Anywhere other than this desert full of chips and blood and corpses and filth.

It’s going to be a good night, he tells himself as he settles into a squeaky plastic chair at a low-roller table and looks around at his competition. Tourists and chumps, and he can take these guys no problem.

Pot-committed

He’s woken by a shrill ringing. His head feels like he’s stuck it in a cement mixer and his mouth tastes like cheap whiskey and puke. He rolls over, covers his ears with a ratty pillow, and ignores it.

The ringing continues. What the fuck? It’s a phone. It keeps ringing. He doesn’t own a phone.

Whoever the fuck is calling is still going, so with a groan he sits up and, bleary-eyed, looks for the phone. He finds it in his jacket pocket, and he’s almost certain it wasn’t there last night.

“Yeah?” he says as he answers it. “What do you want?”

“Sheppard,” a crisp, familiar voice says. “I’ve got a job for you.”

Sheppard closes his eyes. The last thing he needs right now is a world-ending crisis. “Can’t,” he says shortly. “I’ve got… business to attend to.”

McKay snorts. “Another fortune to lose at the poker table? I’m sure you do.” John can hear judgement radiating down the phone line. Then McKay sighs and softens. “Tell you what, meet me and hear me out, and I’ll see what I can do about clearing that off-the-books debt for you.”

That pings John’s bullshit meter, for sure, because that much money doesn’t get casually tossed around even in defense circles. But McKay gives him the address of a pancake place to meet for breakfast and what the hell, he does like pancakes.

Check in the dark

“We keep running into you,” McKay says, shoveling maple syrup-covered pancakes into his mouth with great enthusiasm. “Or, well, other versions of you. Practically every universe we’ve visited so far, you’re leading the team.”

John raises an eyebrow. Not much surprises him any more, but parallel realities strain even his credulity.

“It would be easier,” McKay continues, “if you were with us. You could help us explain. People trust you.”

John jerks back like McKay has slipped a knife between his ribs. McKay doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he does notice and is tactful or manipulative enough not to acknowledge it.

“Come work with me. We’d need to get you some -” he gestures with a fork, “- training, obviously. But you could be useful. You could do some good.”

John shifts in his seat. “I can’t just leave.”

McKay scowls at him. “Right, because you’ve got so many compelling reasons to stay.”

Gutshot

He ends up in some anonymous Air Force bunker in Colorado, of all places, and being around so much military life has his hackles rising. He’s deposited in a blank, windowless room with a desk covered in stacks of carefully redacted mission reports from the Stargate program which he reads voraciously because this is wild, this is unbelievable, but it’s also all true.

McKay finds him a few days later, lounging in the doorway as impeccable as ever. John is suddenly very aware of the fact he’s been sleeping in his clothes.

“Keeping busy?” McKay asks, voice dripping with condescension and something else John doesn’t want to put his finger on.

John nibbles the pen he’s holding as he considers how to answer that, and he notices the way McKay’s eyes flick to his mouth. Ahh. Interesting.

“Staying out of trouble, at least,” he drawls, letting his posture slacken so he’s lounging against the back of the chair and his knees are spread wide. It’s been a while but he knows how to play this game. 

McKay walks around to his side of the desk, each step measured and precise. Not too fast, no sudden movements, a predator lining up for the kill. John tilts his head back and bares his neck, because he knows how to play the role of prey. McKay perches on the edge of the desk between his legs, looks down his nose, and says, “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I can behave.” He looks up from under his lashes. It’s not exactly subtle, but fuck it, they’re way past that by now. “When properly motivated.”

McKay leans in, all sharp smiles and gleaming edges, and John shudders. McKay notices and the sharp edges of his smile glistens. 

“I know you can, Sheppard,” McKay says in a low voice that has the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. “I told you before. I know everything about you.”

Damn the man, John thinks, and then McKay winds his fingers into John's hair and yanks him in for a hot, messy kiss and John stops thinking altogether. 

Afterwards, as he makes vain attempts to pull up his shirt collar to hide the bite marks and to wipe the come stains off the classified military files, John reflects that he may truly be in over his head this time.

Under the gun

A stack of paperwork drops onto his desk with a dull thud. He looks up to find the scowling face of Major Davis.

“Consultant,” Davis says, chilly as ice. “That’s what the Pentagon is willing to offer. You’ll get a salary and accommodation, and in return you’ll help Doctor McKay with his research while he’s on Earth.”

John opens his mouth, though whether it’s to say thank you, to tell Davis to go fuck himself, or to ask for more money, he isn’t sure. Davis holds up a hand to stop him before he can find out.

“I advised against it, given your record. But McKay is a real pain in the ass when he wants to be. So this is what’s on the table. Take it or leave it.”

Tell

McKay’s brow is furrowed and he’s fiddling with some piece of machinery (probably alien, John thinks, and it seems that sort of thing is part of his life now). It blinks to life for a moment before the lights on the top fade away, and McKay swears and bangs it on the table.

“Hey, easy, Chewie,” John chides.

McKay’s eyes narrow. “I thought you said you didn’t like science fiction.”

“Star Wars isn’t science fiction. It’s science fantasy.”

McKay actually smiles at that, something joyous leaping up in the corners of his mouth.

“Knew you were a nerd,” McKay says under his breath, and John punches him playfully in the shoulder. He’s defending his honor, or something.

McKay ducks his head, and a blush creeps up the back of his neck.

Ace high

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” McKay looks even smugger than usual. 

“Yeah?” John slips a leer into the syllable.

But McKay just rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Come on, there’s something I want you to see.”

He leads him down through the base to a lower level, through endless security checks and into a dark hanger. There’s some technology they’ve acquired from an off-world source, he explains, deliberately vague. He’s trying to make some modifications to it, and he thinks John can help with testing.

John has learned to expect the unexpected in this place, but when the lights of the hanger flicker on his breath still catches. It illuminates a ship unlike anything he’s seen before: slick and cylindrical, rear hatch open to show seats and consoles inside.

“It’s fitted with inertial dampers, weapons, a shield,” McKay says breezily. “Oh, and you’ll like this.” He flicks a button on a control and the ship disappears in a haze like hot air. “It’s got a cloak too.”

It’s like something out of a movie, and John is struck speechless. He follows wide-eyed as McKay decloaks the ship to lead them inside and gestures for him to sit.

And woah, the moment he sits the chair glows and a holographic interface springs up in front of him, and he can feel the ship in his mind. He reaches out with a thought and - ping - the display shows a schematic of the hanger.

“Knew you’d be a natural,” McKay says, managing to sound both condescending and delighted. “Want to take her for a spin?”

Yes, everything in him screams, but he thinks about flames and smoke and the shrill, piercing whine of a tail rotor failing, and he grits his teeth against it and says, “I don’t fly any more,” instead.

McKay gives him a long, cool look. 

“We’ll start small,” McKay says, all business, and it’s so easy to relax and follow his lead. “I need you to activate the inertial dampeners while I adjust the shield field strength.”

Okay. Okay. He can do that.

The ship whirs to life.

Short stack

John stares at the blank white walls of his apartment.

It’s better than most places he’s lived in. No roaches, for a start, and it’s clean and has its own kitchen.

But it’s infuriatingly bland, and Colorado is infuriatingly empty, and there’s not so much as a slot machine within an hour’s drive and he is climbing the walls here.

McKay has disappeared on one of those weeks-long missions he can’t or won’t tell John about, and there’s a restless itching under his skin that’s urging him to drink or gamble or fuck or something, and this whole planet seems too small and too constrictive but he doesn’t want to climb under a blanket of booze and drain it all away.

He wants more.

On the river

“Modifications are done,” McKay announces. “Shall we test her out?”

The we makes something squirm in John’s gut but he dismisses it with a lazy, “It’s your alien spaceship.”

McKay looks for a moment like he’s going to say something, but then he pulls out a radio and talks into that instead. “This is Gate Ship One, ready for initial shield test burst.”

“Gate Ship One?” John scoffs. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“It’s a ship that goes through the gate,” McKay pouts, and damn, that’s kind of cute. “Why, what would your suggestion be?”

John tilts his head. He’s seen footage of the ship traveling through the stargate, leaping through the event horizon and leaving barely a ripple in its wake. “Seems more like a puddle jumper to me.”

“You have the soul of a poet,” McKay says acerbically. 

And damn if that’s not kind of cute too.

Dealer’s choice

“Come with me,” McKay says, and John is ready to say yes before he’s even finished speaking. “To Pegasus. To Atlantis. I need to get back there, and I’m sure we can find a way to make you useful.” A little smirk at the end there.

“I don’t know how the Pentagon is going to feel about that,” John says, deliberately languid to hide the way his heart is pounding in his chest. Escape, adventure, somewhere new, somewhere he could be a new person, and he wants it so much it aches.

“Eh, fuck them. They can’t say no to me.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do here.”

McKay gives him a look that shoots straight through his defenses and down to his sticky innards. “Yeah, okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way that makes the ache in John’s chest twist into a deep burn.

All in

The jumper hovers in the air in front of the stargate. 

“Nervous?” McKay asks, carefully casual, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

John hums. The inside of the jumper feels as much like home as any place he knows. What’s another galaxy to a man with no ties?

“You’re going to love it there,” McKay says with a smile he can’t hide. He dials up the gate and it engages with a tremendous whoosh and a burst of brilliant blue light.

Here goes nothing, he thinks as McKay deploys the drive pods and fires up the engines. One last new start. 

[iconic-ponytail]

there's always money in the banana stand

riverdale promptathon week 3: yellow + business

Even as the sun sets, even as the breeze blows, the hell furnace of July in Riverdale burns on. It’s triply as sweltering inside the tiny booth running three freezers, offloading heat to sustain the frozen merchandise inside. “How can it be so hot in there when we are supposed to be selling frozen bananas?” JB complains, at least twice a week.

She’s twelve. Complaint is her new first language. She complains about being left in Riverdale while Gladys went back to Toledo. She complains about living in a trailer park that usually does not have warm water. She complains about their father being imprisoned for covering up a gruesome murder. But most of all, she complains about working in the banana stand.

Child labor laws aside, Jughead can’t blame her for that one. He hates the damn banana stand, but it’s their best shot.

Gladys’ monthly check covers rent and utilities for the trailer. Everything else is on him, now. The idiot eighteen year old who decided to petition the court to be his sister’s legal guardian. Well, and his idiot mom who signed off on it. So he needs money, and the Jones family has never been particularly flush with cash, just trampled over by FP’s failed “business opportunities.”

Enter: the banana stand.

It’s not the fastest revenue stream, Jughead finds. But it’s got potential.

Initially, Dilton doesn’t let him sell during the Twilight Drive-In’s concession stand hours. Before or after the movie, sure, but no overlap. “I’m not worried about competition, Jones. It’s just too humiliating for me to watch you sweat through that horrible yellow polo you call ‘branding.’”

But when customers asked him more than twice a night when the banana stand would be open, Dilton caved.

It’s not like being open during the screening hours is a whole lot more preferable. He only just transferred from Southside to Riverdale High last spring; now he’s the rising senior who hands out phallic symbols from inside a giant phallic symbol. Not exactly a boon to his popularity.

Still, recently the money is enough to pay the internet bill and keep JB fed for dinner when she can’t go to the summer breakfast and lunch program at the local park district. It’s still not enough for him to eat particularly well, and the smell of hot dogs and slurp of his classmates’ slushies makes the heat feel like a minor inconvenience.

He eyes the tip jar, willing himself to wait on rampaging the concession stand until the beginning of the film roar dies down. It’s a double feature tonight, which means maybe he can score enough cash to cover those damn college application fees his counselor will start hounding him about week one of school.

Then he sees her—Betty Cooper. She’s laughing, watching Archie Andrews try to catch popcorn in his mouth, tossed by his paramour, Veronica Lodge. She pauses to sip from her slushie straw, her lips—which he’s watched argue against homophobic and racist comments in their advanced lit class, or pressed to the cheek of her other best friend, Kevin Keller. Which he’s imagined, doing slightly less savory things, though the mere thought of said imagining has his heart pounding wildly.

(Jughead’s been eating way too many fucking bananas. Someone needs to check his potassium levels.)

His absolutely pathetic gaze, once available three times a day in their shared classes where Jughead has still not managed to exert any confidence whatsoever regarding speech, eye contact, or general acknowledgement of Betty Cooper’s existence other than whatever drooling may or may not be happening, all of which he finds he has no control over… is all interrupted by the absolute polar opposite of Betty Cooper. Hiram Lodge zooms up to the banana stand on his segway, angling to a stop just before taking out the stand’s foundation.

“Still getting a hang of that, Mayor Lodge?”

Hiram grimaces. “Just checking that you’ve renewed your business permit, Jones.”

They do this once a week. It’s still the same permit.

“You know,” Hiram starts as Jughead rustles for the paperwork to make him go the fuck away, “I could find you an arrangement with a better banana supplier. For a discount. If you’re interested.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your GMO, black market bananas, Hiram.”

Hiram gives him a pointed look. Jughead rolls his eyes even harder. “Mayor Lodge.” He proffers the papers, Hiram waves them away. “I’ll take one chocolate peanut butter dip. With peanuts.”

Jughead kisses his teeth. “That will be $3.50.”

Hiram’s whole face goes serpentine. “Not between business partners, Jones. Put it on my tab.”

Jughead grits his teeth, handing the finished banana so aggressively he hopes that the chocolate splatters and stains Hiram’s $500 tie. It is only slightly worth it to watch Hiram struggle with navigating the segway one-handed, frozen banana in the other.

He muffles a chuckle before realizing he’s used the dead end of the chopped peanut topping, and exits the stand to update the order board hanging on the outside. It’s mostly an excuse to feel a ten degree drop in temperature, a sweet relief he might be able to extend by grabbing a hot dog before the intermission rush.

He’s crossing off peanuts from the topping list and spinning around when he hears a shriek and a sudden, cold slosh across his chest. The yellow polo drips with artificial blue slushie, but Jughead swallows his fucking hell when he sees that the shriek, gaping stare of horror, and stumble in question all belong to his very own blonde kryptonite.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, jesus, shit, I’m so sorry!”

Jughead is frozen while Betty grabs about half his napkin dispenser and starts pawing at his shirt in a vain attempt to right the giant sticky blue mess all over his chest.

Finally, Jughead swallows the golf ball in his throat and chokes out. “Honestly, it’s fine. That stand is a sauna. I needed that.”

Betty stops, both her blotting and her stream of apologizing (which includes a fair bit of cursing, and he is a little revolted with himself by how much this turns him on).

“It’s going to get very sticky, soon. Maybe I should buy a bottle of cold water?”

Jughead can’t help himself. “Oh, impromptu yellow t-shirt contest?”

Betty grins.

I did that.

“Do you have any employees who could bring you another shirt?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Just my sister. She’s playing video games at home. There’s no earthly way she’ll bring me a spare.”

Betty cocks her head. “I had a feeling you were more than the silent back row kind of guy.”

The fact that Betty Cooper has, at any point, considered what kind of guy he is triggers full-on nervous blathering. “I’m usually very tired at school. I have this little sister—but I’m kind of um, her guardian. So I’m doing this stupid banana stand thing because it’s like one of the three assets to our entire family name I guess? Anyway, it’s hard to engage with Haggly’s basic discussion questions at eight in the morning when you spent the whole night dreaming about wholesale banana margins.”

He’s essentially vomiting words, but Betty is still smiling.

“Anyway, I should crawl back into my fruit-shaped purgatory and let you go back to your friends.”

She’s biting her lip, hedging. “Honestly, they’re probably using the alone time to make out in the car, and I’d rather let them get all their sexual tension out so that I don’t have to feel it radiating off of them for the whole second half of the double feature.”

Jughead laughs and tamps down the impulse to offer her a frozen banana, because he cannot possibly say something like that without making it sound sexual.

“What are frozen banana profit margins like, anyway?” Betty asks, either genuinely interested or legitimately flirting with him. Jughead finds both potentials baffling.

Jughead hesitates, then ducks inside the stand, pulling out his spiral bound notebook. “I’m still kind of figuring it out. All my records are in here.”

Betty sidles up to the stand, taking up the whole window. They’re both leaning over the scribbled line items on college ruled paper; he can smell her shampoo. She takes the notebook, scanning thoroughly.

“Do you have a pencil?”

He hands her one and observes her going to work, writing out some algebraic formula and calculating quickly in her head. There is a calculator within his reach, but he thinks handing it to her might come off as an insult. (Jughead wouldn’t know; he assumes Betty is in an advanced math class. Jughead is not.)

After a few minutes of watching her devoted focus, thinking about her hands touching his pencil, thinking about her hands wrapped around his hand, or his—

“I don’t know how to tell this to you, Jug.”

The shortening of his name stops his heart for a jolt, and his response is embarrassingly delayed. “What is it?”

Betty winces but smiles through it, a combination she’s surely learned to use when delivering bad news. It’s well earned, it really does soften the blow.

“There’s no money in the banana stand. At least, not with these margins.”

Jughead finds himself less than devastated by this news, mostly because it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The messenger doesn’t hurt, either.

“But,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve nailed down your course load for senior year. But I’m taking AP Econ? This could be, um, a good project. Like, if you want to take the class. Or even if you don’t. Not that you’re like a project or… whatever. I’m just saying we could figure it out. Make lemonade out of… bananas.”

Betty Cooper is extremely cute when she stammers.

Jughead doesn’t know what to do, so he gives her an easy out. “I can’t like, hire you, if that wasn’t obvious by the whole… deficit spending or whatever the whole negative circled number at the bottom of the page really means.”

She flushes. “No, that would be highway robbery. I just thought there might be an… opportunity. For um, us. I mean, for you and I. I mean—” she clears her throat, as if it’s closing up. “An academic opportunity. Or, in your case, professional. Well, a betterment of your livelihood. Okay, um, shit, just… I should go!”

She turns away, her face the deepest scarlet he’s ever seen.

“Betty, wait.”

She pivots back, eyes down at the ground.

“How about I buy you a new slushie and you come back into the booth. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong for the rest of the night.”

Betty looks up, biting the corner of her smile. “Sounds like a deal.”

They shake on it.

[neverdoingmuch]

Wait cql lawyer/law school AU

i got you my pal dont worry!!

law school, im gonna be honest and say i know like nothing about law or law school so pls ignore any inconsistencies or inaccuracies

lwj goes to law school and he is definitely the top student in his class. they’ve been there for like a month and everyone already knows he’s gonna be the best

his one and only competition is this dude called wei wuxian but lwj isn’t particularly worried about him

so far they’re still in the stage of the course where they do the fun things to sucker people into doing the class for the semester so there’s been some practise debates and arguments and stuff in their tutorial classes

wei wuxian has that Charisma and like yeah all of his arguments are perfect but also he has an amazing smile and people are like yes i can trust him 

(he’s definitely the sort to be like hm, the easy way to argue this case would be to quote some laws and use precedence to justify this but that’s boring)

lwj is also good at that sort of stuff because his arguments are perfect and everything is so perfectly researched that there should be no ground at all for someone to lodge a counterargument

(wei wuxian manages somehow and it makes lwj so mad)

but that’s whatever lwj thinks,, a lot of people join law thinking it’s gonna be like the tv shows and books and then get completely blindsided when it comes to the rote learning part or like the actual laws 

and for all of wwx’s confidence, lwj hasn’t actually seen wwx so much as touch the textbook/s and he always studies in the law library so he knows that wwx has probably never even been there bc he hasn’t seen him even once (why’s he looking? bc he needs to see which books wwx uses to study,, bc there has to be something going on there,, obviously)

then they do their first like proper written assignment and lwj and wwx tie for the highest scores and now lwj has a Rival and he refuses to lose to someone who thinks that putting a ‘-us’ sound at the end of a word makes it latin (did wwx say habeas corpus and then point at a soft drink and go  sprite-us can-us,,, maybe,,,,)

anyway! lwj and wwx are kinda rivals for the top spot and it’s one of those situations where one test lwj wins by a point but then the next test wwx gets full marks and they just keep exchanging the top spot in class

and this whole time wwx is like The Worst to have in class. he’s always interrupting to ask questions or just straight up not listening and spends the class doodling pictures of rabbits (they’re cute but wwx is terrible and he’s not allowed to make cute drawings)

so after a few months the most horrible thing happens.... they get put together in a project and lwj is like ugh. internally of course but his face is also saying ugh

the first time wwx and lwj get together to work on the project, lwj is prepared with a proper list of tasks to do all nicely split up between the two of them and a schedule for when they should get certain parts done by. 

needless to say, lwj does not expect wwx to be ready, but wwx is definitely on top of things

he rocks up and is like yeah let’s do this, this and this and have them done by this time - basically proposing to do everything that lwj has already written down

and lwj is pleasantly surprised and is like hm maybe i misjudged wwx and decides to like re-evaluate his opinion on him

in doing so he realises that when he’d never seen wwx studying, it wasn’t an exaggeration at all. he’s never seen wwx so much as touch a textbook or spend more than a minute on a laptop doing something that wasn’t minesweeper or solitaire

but wwx is also making all of their deadlines and even adds extra information and resources to their document that could be useful elsewhere and sometimes he shows up to their study sessions and he looks absolutely exhausted

eventually lwj manages to get the truth out and wwx is just like yeah it’s easier to get worse grades than a genius but if you both study and you still get lower grades, it’s not easy,, for jc or for me

so wwx usually studies at night when his brother is asleep and lwj is like that’s bad, you can’t keep that up and just when wwx is about to go off at him lwj is like you can come study at my place

and thus begins the wonderful time where everything is alright and lwj falls in love with wwx

they work really well together and wwx is strangely considerate and nice? when he finds out lwj likes rabbits, he goes out and buys bunny post-it notes for lwj and starts to always bring him a doodle of bunnies every time he comes over. he always gets his work done on time, early even, and his work is always so brilliant and every time wwx smiles at him, lwj feels warm inside etc etc

for a long while lwj is like yes (: this is friendship (: bc he’s never had a crush before but then on the day they submit their project wwx is like hey,, the two of us make a great team,, we should always work together,, now and next year and even when we graduate,, i want to help the innocent people who need our help and i think i’d like it a lot if you joined me and lwj has his oh moment

they get a perfect score on the project of course and even after it finishes, wwx keeps coming over to lwj’s place to study or just hang out and lwj is just falling more and more for wwx each day

they’re best friends now and everyone gets used to seeing them work together on projects and then turn around to try and decimate each other when they’re working one on one and lwj thinks that he might just be the happiest he’s ever been

but then one day wwx doesn’t show up to class. it shouldn’t be strange but wwx has never missed class even once and he ends up hearing from lxc who heard from jgy that wwx was caught sabotaging some other student’s work (the other student was jzxun, who had a fondness for playing devil’s advocate and other than wwx once telling him that his argument was shit, wwx never spoke to him or seemed to know who he was but lwj is a bit too angry to remember that)

he manages to find wwx outside of his dorms as he’s moving out and he’s just like why did you do that? and wwx is like oh y’know,, bc he’s not really sure what’s happening himself,, one second he was at the top of his class and the next he was being brought before a board and being told that he was being expelled but he’s not going to tell lwj that bc lwj would definitely try and stand up for him and then they’d both get expelled

but lwj is furious and just spits out well if our dreams meant so little to you then maybe it’s a good thing you failed now,, bc his mother was a lawyer who took all these little jobs that helped people who actually needed the help and lwj was looking forward to doing that with wwx and he doesn’t even seem to care that now they can’t do that 

wwx flinches and then smiles at him and just cheerily says, that’s me and leaves. he doesn’t look back and lwj doesn’t chase after him.

lwj doesn’t see him again for years (you can do 13 or 5 or however long you feel like)

lwj is a fully licensed lawyer and he’s working for the family company and he spends half of his time working on cases and uses the rest of his time to do like outreach programs where he goes and visits schools and runs sessions on what it’s like to be a lawyer, how to apply, and to provide assistance to any students who decide to study law at uni

and then at one of these programs he meets this kid, wen yuan, who is ridiculously bright and enthusiastic and has a smile that seems oddly familiar

at the end of the second session he comes up to lwj and is like mr. lan, is your name lan wangji? and lwj just says yes, expecting the kid to be a fan of one of his cases or something but then wen yuan is like oh wow! i thought i recognised you from my dad’s photo!

and lwj isn’t expecting much but he asks what the photo looks like and wen yuan pulls out this photo from his pocket and lwj immediately recognises it,, it’s the only photo he has of him and wwx

your father is wei ying? lwj asks him and wen yuan is like yes, hesitates, and then asks, would you like to see him?

and that’s how lwj finds himself following wen yuan to some dinky little office that has a plaque outside that reads wen and wei

(wen ning is the nicest and sweetest person ever and lots of people underestimate him but then he’s an absolute monster on court. he gets up and completely decimates the opponent and then at the end is like (: it was so nice to meet you!! i am baby!! and all that,, you know our boy)

anyway they walk in and wwx turns to greet wen yuan but then he sees lwj and is like woah! you! and he’s not sure whether to hide or go and hug lwj so he just gives him a fist bump,, like a bro,, and immediately wants to shrivel up and die

anyway they get the reunion stuff out of the way, swelling music, tender wrist holding, lots of staring, lwj silently declaring his wholehearted love for wwx and refusing to believe rumours about him again even though he doesn’t actually know what happened, you know how it goes

from wwx’s side of things,, after he got kicked out he went to some small uni. good in its own right but not known for their law program and ended up specialising in family law

the first case he ever won was for the wens to have the right to keep custody of a-yuan and the first case wen ning ever won was to let wwx adopt a-yuan bc i’m soft like that

so wwx has just been kinda vibing,, being a single dad, living with the wens and helping to make that difference he always promised he would

now this isn’t gonna be some au where lwj goes oh my! i must give up my high salary job and work with wwx! bc lwj has been doing good stuff at his current job and for all of his family’s stuffiness, they run a fair and just company 

but! he does end up helping wwx when wwx gets a letter with a bunch of information about the jins and how they’re actually super corrupt and evil (big surprise,,) and how wwx was maybe definitely framed bc he was doing some casual work on the side and stumbled across some bad shit on the jins back in uni

lwj ends up being the one to take the case officially but wwx is definitely the guy leading it and so lwj ends up spending most of his time at the wen-wei office

lwj definitely bonds with wen yuan, who also wants to go into law, and writes him recommendation letters and helps him edit his applications and stuff

(and one day wen yuan is like leaving you was the hardest thing dad ever did and i dont think you appreciated how much he cared about you. he really did think that he annoyed you ‘til the end and lwj is like no! he didn’t! and wen yuan is like yeah i know but you gotta tell him and lwj really does mean to but the time is never right or something like that but also wen yuan is all but calling lwj dad at this point)

anyway they end up going to court, side by side, working as a team just as they promised to do and just as they finish their final day on the case, ended with the jury ruling jgy guilty and wwx’s reputation all but saved, wwx turns around and flings himself at lwj

is he crying? is he laughing? a bit of both tbh but wwx ends up confessing right then and there, still on record and everything (is that how that works??? idk! let’s say it does)

and what can lwj do but make out with him?

did a news crew come in to film the results of this massive court case just to end up with five minutes of wangxian kissing?? maybe! but when it played on tv it meant wwx and lwj didnt have to actually tell anyone they got together

(and does lwj eventually pop the question using wwx’s bad latinification? yes and wwx is too busy laughing to accept at first but he does and they end up being the worst possible tutors for wen yuan as he goes through law school bc they keep being all gross and lovey-dovey and acting like law school is the most romantic place in the world)

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Chemical Reaction Chapter 1

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: No set parings in this one yet

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Mentions of violence but that's canon.

Author’s Note: DO YOU KNOW HOW NERVOUS I AM FOR THIS?!? Even setting this up, I have anxiety building up. I'm ready for my debut into the Marvel fics. I do hope that if you guys enjoy this that you will leave some feedback. Anything helps! I absolutely love Tony and I hope this does him justice.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

Y/N L/N knew that when she was recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. that there would be moments where things would become chaotic. She knew that there would be moments where she would have to drop whatever it was she was working on to work on something that was being deemed top priority. Her multiple degrees from MIT had proved her to be an asset. Especially when they came across foreign objects that needed to be identified.

Over the last several years while Earth found out just how big the universe was, Y/N was behind the scenes hoping to help by making weapons to help protect the earth with what she was creating. Her projects were always kept under lock and key with the help of Director Nick Fury. He made sure her work was never interrupted and made sure she had everything she needed to create what he asked.

The sound of the lab door sliding open had caught her attention. Her eyes lifted only for a second to see Fury walking in before she looked back down at the computer screen in front of her. The program on the screen helping her to put the missing pieces she needed together.

“I’m expecting a box of my favorite cookies if you’re coming in here while I’m working.” She said, not taking her eyes off the coding. Every few moments she’d adjust the coding to adjust a few things or add coding where needed.

“Already delivered to your house.” Fury said as he walked further into the lab. “Even I know your bite is worse than your bark.”

That caused her to chuckle as her eyes flickering back and forth between him and the screen. Between Y/N and Fury, they had a softer relationship than most agents did with him. Maybe it was that her parents were friends with his family. But Y/N knew that when things meant business, the playful demeanor they had towards each other stopped.

“I’ve got an assignment for you.” He said as he came to a stop just in front of her desk.

“You mean besides this one?” She asked with a raised brow as her fingers typed along a keyboard. The new information she input caused the program to create a visual prototype of the weapon Fury had asked her for.

“For now this one is being put on hold.” Fury’s hands rested on the desk as he watched as Y/N looked up and at him. There was a slight frown on her face that caused Fury to chuckle. “Priorities change, Y/N/N. Including this one. What I need you to work on has been bumped up in priority.”

“This has to do with the mission the Avengers are on, isn’t it?” Y/N knew if she was right, that meant the Avengers had found an unknown source that needed to be identified. Usually, it was Y/N that got called in for those kinds of tasks.

“A Hydra base had a weapon on display, much like the scepter Loki had. But instead of an infinity stone at its center, it is something else. I need you and Stark to identify it.”

Y/N stilled at the name before she rolled her eyes. “We both know Stark and I don’t get along.”

“You two are the only ones that I want working on this.” He said as he stood up straight. “Between his brain and yours, it would save us a lot of time and expedite us destroying it.”

“You mean to study it before figuring out a way to utilize it?” Y/N knew better. She knew how Fury worked. His secret projects Y/N had been a part of from time to time. It was her design that was used for the prototype gun that had been created from pieces of the Destroyer when it came to Earth.

A knowing look formed on Fury’s face and it caused a smirk to pull at Y/N’s lips. He shook his head slightly. “It depends on if it can or cannot be utilized. I want to know why Hydra had it in the first place.”

“And that requires Stark’s help?” She asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I get it.” He said as he tilted his head slightly. “You two have history. But I need the best minds I’ve got working on this.”

“What about Banner?” She asked, trying to get out of it one last time. “I don’t butt heads with Banner.” She was going to take whatever chances to avoid Tony Stark.

Fury eyed her before he turned to walk away from her. Y/N huffed out air as he had begun to do so. That was his answer to her question. He wasn’t going to let her out of this. Y/N should have known. For as many times as she tried to get out of work, Fury always got what he wanted.

“I want another batch!” She called out as she watched him leave. “Preferably the ones your mom makes.”

“Wheels up in an hour L/N.” Fury said as the sliding doors open. “I expect you to be on it.”

_____

“Alright, let's get this down to the lab.” Tony Stark said as he watched as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents began to pull the weapon off of the quinjet as he walked right behind them.

His hands slid against each other as he walked down the ramp, his eyes lingering on the case. The weapon was securely locked within a case to ensure that nothing would happen to it on its journey. He was eager to get started on figuring out what element was powering it. He had seen first hand the energy that came off of it in action.

“Perfect,” Natasha said as she exited out of the quinjet. “Fury just informed me that your new lab partner is already there and waiting for it's arrival."

Tony stopped in his tracks and turned towards Natasha. “Excuse me? There’s a what in my lab?”

“Fury sent someone over.” Natasha said as she came and stood in front of Tony. “Didn't give me a name though. He believes between the two of you, you’ll be able to identify the element faster and get it ready for transport."

Tony’s eyebrow raised. There was only one time he had opened his lab open to someone. And that had been to Bruce Banner. Why Fury decided it was a good time to send someone new in, Tony would never understand.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. who is currently in the lab?” He asked as he looked nowhere in particular. He wanted to know what he was about to walk into.

Miss Y/N L/N is, sir. The A.I said from overhead. She arrived minutes before you did.

“Shit,” Tony muttered under his breath as he looked back over at Natasha. The woman currently had a smirk pulling at her lips. “This is a joke right?”

Natasha laughed as she shrugged. "I'm only passing along the message."

Natasha knew enough about the relationship between Tony and Y/N. They butted heads when it came to almost anything and everything. She enjoyed watching the way Y/N had gotten under his skin any time they were in a room together. If there was one person that could put Tony in his place, it was Y/N.

Tony mumbled under his breath as he began making his way towards the elevator. He could probably avoid her for a few more hours. But knowing Y/N, she'd have things rearranged by the time he made it down there. It was better to face her now than later. It would definitely be worse later.

"Let Y/N know I'll call for backup when she needs it!" Natasha called out just as the elevator doors were closing.

_____

A frustrated sigh passed Y/N’s lips as she looked around the lab. With as many times as Y/N had been there, it had never ceased to amaze her that Tony would have things completely out of place. That included the perfectly neat station that she had left behind since she was becoming a frequent guest.

Pieces of junk had been carelessly tossed on the workstation, causing the items she had left on there to be scattered about. Stains from god knows what had been smeared on a majority of the files she left behind. No doubt things that Tony only looked at before tossing them aside.

They may have gotten on each other’s nerves, But Y/N had tried helping with some of the tech he was working on. While mostly suggestions, she knew that some of them would have upgraded things in a way that would help Tony. But with his stubbornness and ego, she wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t take any of it into account.

“J.A.R.V.I.S?” She called out as she walked around the workstation. “Does Tony actually need any of this or am I free to dispose of it?”

“Don’t answer that.” Tony said as he walked into the lab. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents close behind him, bringing in the encased weapon. The moment it was placed on a workstation, they left just as quickly as they came. “It is after all my lab and I can place things where I want, and when I want.” He had come to stand a few feet away from Y/N.

Y/N’s eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes stayed on his before a small smirk slowly pulled at her lips. “J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

Mr. Stark is not intending to use the items he disposed of on your desk. I believe the term he used was ‘a junk table’.

Y/N watched as Tony’s mouth dropped at the A.I.’s words. He had never once had it work against him and yet, Y/N had managed to do so. “You turned him against me.”

“Not against,” She defended. “I just added a few things to ensure that I’d get the right information instead of you sabotaging me.”

“For the millionth time, that was not sabotage. I ensured everything was fair and square.” Tony rolled his eyes. “When did you even have time to hack into things?”

Y/N bit down on her tongue to keep her from speaking her mind. She should have known better. She should have known that he would simply deny it, just as he had plenty of times before. Instead, she let out a deep breath. “The last time I was here.” She said as she uncrossed her arms and began moving towards the case. “If I’m not mistaken, you were otherwise preoccupied with an overly bubbly blonde. Plus it wasn’t like I corrupted the system in any way. I just need someone on my side from time to time.”

Just as she reached the case and went to open it, Tony’s hand reached hers and stopped her from opening it. She turned to face him, her hand still on the latch. There was a slight glare on Tony’s face. Whether it was from her words or the fact she was attempting to open the case, she’d never know.

“You have no idea what this thing is and you want to just open it, like it’s nothing.” He said never taking his eyes off her.

“That’s what the point of this is.” She shook her head. “All the necessary protocols already came into play the moment the agents left.”

“I highly doubt that.” He said, taking a step back.

“Want to ask? Or should I?” Her fingers tapped on the latch as she watched him. It was a challenge.

The simple words enough to show how much they really trusted the other. While Tony had no idea about the rewrite that Y/N had included in his system, they hadn’t always agreed on things. If anything, they always disagreed with each other ninety-nine percent of the time. That one percent was a mix of giving in to what the other wanted or, Y/N getting her way.

It was as Tony let out a sigh that another smirk began to grow on Y/N’s lips. “J.A.R.V.I.S. are-”

Yeah, it was going to be a long week for the both of them.

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