#writing in jager is hard

[kiwisbell]

Whiskey Sour

chapter six: dark 'n' stormy

Reuniting with your estranged father while you finish college in Austin has unintended consequences. His best friend, for one.

series masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

series tags and warnings: dbf!joel being extremely criminally attractive, big ol' age gap (40s/early 20s), unprotected piv (do not follow the leader), creampie, multiple sex positions, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m and f receiving), dry humping, spitting, biting, joel miller is a MUNCH, very appropriate use of a showerhead, consensual somnophilia, yoga, heavy emphasis on payphones, daddy issues, family reunions, angst, dead mom, grief and mourning, father/daughter relationship, bartending, reader is a woman in STEM (author is not), being a student in university deserves a warning probably, attempted drugging (roofies), college boys suck, possessive sex, possessive joel, protective joel, obligatory warning for joel's salt-and-pepper hair, masturbation, wet dreams, no outbreak AU, hurt/comfort, healing, no sarah or ellie, stargazing, face-sitting, pining/yearning, happy ending

word count: ~ 9.1k

a/n: please know that i hate writing angst and that you will always - always! - get a happy ending from me. never forget that an epilogue is to follow :') pls forgive me you know i love you xx

chapter 6: dark 'n' stormy

Learning.

The music pounds your ribs like chisels and your vision lags a little. You're only on your second drink, but you don't make a habit of imbibing—which is why you feel like your body is floating above everybody else, watching the night take hold. 

The club is dark and humid with the crowd of bodies, and the air smells sickly sweet: something that clings to your collarbones and the back of your neck. The Tequila Sunrise in your hand is slick with condensation. Next to you, Sonya and Leigh alternate between grinding on one another and pulling you into a dance with the pair of them. As much as you're unqualified as a club dancer and the alcohol is making you spin, it’s fun. You’re having fun. 

You take a shot of vodka at the bar with Steve, Sonya, and Liam, then a shot of Jager with Steve and Leigh. Your steps are wobbly by the time you need to use the bathroom for the first time, dragging Sonya inside with you. It's hot. It’s way too hot. You need another drink. 

You burst into a fit of giggles when the door hits your ass as it swings shut. You're laughing so hard that tears stream down your face and you have to grab Sonya to steady yourself. “My dress is so tight!” you shout at her over the blaring music. 

Sonya whoops, twirling you like you're both doing a ballroom dance. “But you look sooo sexy!”

You bring her into a hug. “You need to stop being so nice to me. I’ll cry!”

“You’re already crying!”

“I know,” you sniffle. “I just… I love you.”

“Are you kidding? I love you,” Sonya cries, swaying with you in the hug. 

“Didn't we come in here to pee?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” 

You both get in line behind two other girls and compliment the girl in front of you on her silver sequinned dress. She beams at you, rosy-faced and unfocused, and brings you into a hug, too. “Oh, my God, you're so nice.”

You really love being hugged. 

You and Sonya touch up your faces in the mirror when you're finished and make sure you don't look like you've been crying, heading back out into the club. 

At the bar, you and Steve sit next to each other while waiting for your next round of shots. In contrast to you, he seems pretty alert, still sporting that boyish smile. His hair is only a little tousled. He's a handsome young guy. 

He just can't compare to the handsome man who's waiting for you at the end of the night. Joel is so…  

You can't tell Steve about Joel. You can't tell anyone about Joel. But you want to hop up onto the bar and proclaim to the world that you've got a strong, gentle, good man to go home to. That he's what you've wanted your whole life. That he's it for you. 

“To passing chemistry,” you announce instead, “with flying colours!”

“Grounded colours,” amends Steve. “Cheers!”

You clink your shot glasses together, slam them down on the bar, then toss them back. There's perhaps a bit too much alcohol in your system now, but it feels good. It's good to let go. 

“Where's your boyfriend?” asks Steve, shouting a bit so you can hear him over the music. “I would think he'd like to see you in a dress like this.”

You are wearing the blue dress you told Joel about: it's the colour of summer sky, short and tight, complete with a pair of strappy silver heels. “Who said anything about a boyfriend?”

Safe answer, you think, rewarding yourself with a mental pat on the back. Indirect. Steve scoffs. “Please. You're never home.”

“And how do you know that?” you ask challengingly. How does he know? “I thought I was”—you hiccup—“being discreet.”

“A girl like you's gotta have a boyfriend,” says Steve. 

A girl like you? What does that mean? Didn't you just ask him how he knew how often you were home? “You're being confusing. And I’m supposed to be relaxing.”

Steve slides a Cosmo under your nose. “For putting up with me the whole term.”

You lift your brows at him. “You bought me a drink?”

“I bought you a drink.” His eyes glimmer with amusement. “Looks like you're not in dire straits, though.”

“No, no, my dad likes that band. I’m a Britney girl myself.” 

As you lift the drink to your lips, there's a hand on your arm, steering you toward the dance floor. You nearly drop your Cosmo in the person’s haste, and you nearly topple over with dizziness when you whip your head around to see who's holding onto you. 

“Liam?” You peer through the darkness at him. His lips are pressed into a grim line, and he looks a lot more sober than you. “What are you—”

“Don’t drink that,” he says, indicating the Cosmo in your hand. “He put something in it.”

What?

You blink hard and fast like it's going to clear your blurring vision. Liam’s still in front of you, not a hallucination, scraping a hand through his hair, his eyes a little frantic. He looks truly distressed. 

“Who, Steve?” You eye the drink. Steve wouldn’t… He’s—he’s nice. He’s never tried anything. He wouldn't drug you. “Are you—”

“Yes.” And he seems so earnest that it frightens you. Your stomach drops into your heels. “Please,” he says. “Don’t drink it.”

The Cosmo slips from your hand and crashes onto the dance floor. 

Glass shatters around people’s feet. A few club-goers shuffle away from the mess but largely continue to dance, while your vision rapidly sharpens. A cold sweat washes over you. 

This isn't happening. 

“Liam,” you gasp, grabbing onto his arm, “I need to get out of here.”

It's too hot. You're dizzy. Gasping for lungfuls of air, you feel the air in the room push down on your shoulders. Liam keeps his distance as he steadies you on the way to the door, but you can't feel his hands on your arms. You can't feel a thing. 

“Hey!” It’s Steve, behind you, shouting your name. “Why are you leaving?”

You can’t turn. If you look at him, you'll break. You’ll cleave in two. 

“You”—Liam pokes Steve square in his chest—“stay the fuck away.”

Steve slaps Liam’s hand away and gives him a hard shove. “Hey, listen, I don’t know what your fuckin’ problem is, but we were having fun.”

“Fun?” Liam shouts. “Does the fun come before or after whatever you were about to do with her?”

“Fuck you, man!” 

“Is it true?” Your voice sounds like a separate entity. “Did you put something in my drink?”

Steve scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Please. You think I’d do that?”

“Did you?” 

You try to sound strong, uncompromising. But you're drunk, wobbly, and miserable. And he was going to take advantage of you despite all of it. 

“This is bullshit. Your little fuckin’ dog is setting you up.” Steve aims to shove Liam again, but the latter retaliates with a crack of his fist across Steve’s jaw. 

“You’re fucking dead, Baker,” growls Steve. 

“I wish you were fucking dead,” returns Liam. “Fucking rapist piece of shit.”

You can hear them both, but the sounds are muffled, like you're just below the water’s surface. You clutch your heart with your open hand and hear your father’s voice. 

Can you imagine a nice, slow heartbeat?

You do. You try. 

Just imagine you've got my heartbeat. Take it from me. 

He's stronger than you. Everyone is stronger than you. 

You're grateful. It's how you can steady your pulse slowly enough to throw yourself out of the club, onto the street, and stumble down the block until you can find a payphone. You’re already tugging at the straps of your heels before you climb into the booth and dig through your clutch for a coin. 

Take it from me. 

Imagine a nice, slow heartbeat. 

Do not fall apart. 

“Joel,” you say softly, your hand trembling around the receiver. “Joel, are you there?”

“Hey, baby. You okay?” His voice isn’t groggy or irritated; he likely hasn't slept at all. 

Just hearing his voice forces a pathetic sob out of your mouth, covering it quickly with your hand. “I, um…” You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your head on the glass wall of the payphone. Don't cry. Don’t fucking cry. “I’m sorry it's so late.”

“Hey, hey.” His soothing voice prickles the hairs on your arms. “Tell me what's wrong.”

“I…” You’re losing it: your ability to swallow your terror. It surges up your throat, racking tremors through your breath. “I’m at a club. It’s called The Rite Way. ‘Rite,’ like ‘of passage,’ not ‘right’ as in ‘right and wrong.’ It’s kind of stupid, but—”

“Sweetheart,” says Joel, patient in the midst of your rambling. “You gotta tell me what happened. Tell me what's wrong, okay? I’m right here. I’m listening.”

You can't bottle your cries in your throat anymore at his gentle coaxing. “Oh, God,” you sob into your palm. “Oh, God, Joel, he—he put something in my drink. I thought… I thought I could trust him, and he… Fuck, he was going to—”

His voice butts in, and it’s angry. “I’m comin’ to get you. Stay right there. Don’t move.”

You've never heard him use that tone. He speaks so gently to you. This is rage: it's potent as poison and you somehow know it was the right choice to call him, anyway. 

“I won’t.”

In fact, when the line goes dead, you clutch the receiver to your chest and hoard the booth while you quietly sob, tucked into the corner as if someone’s trying to break in. The sound of a sputtering truck engine, ten minutes later, makes you lift your head. You forget that you’re supposed to hang up the receiver and drop it like it’s turned to ice in your clammy hands. He’s getting out, parked illegally on the street, slamming the door hard and scanning the street.

He finds you right away.

“Baby,” he whispers, watching you step gingerly out of the booth with your heels dangling from one hand. “Oh, Jesus, baby, c’mere.” He ushers you into his arms and you practically leap off the curb to wrap yourself up in him, squeezing out your tears onto his chest. Joel cradles the back of your head. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“He…” You hiccup, reeling from the dizzying amalgamation of being rather tipsy and sobered by the knowledge that a friend had betrayed your trust. “He was…”

He dips his chin and kisses the top of your head. “Shh, don’t tell me. Don’t tell me yet, sweetheart. Let’s get you home, first, okay?”

He helps you up into the passenger’s side and buckles your seatbelt for you. He's trying to assess your body for injuries without making a big deal of it, purposefully avoiding the tear tracks on your cheeks. A muscle in his jaw feathers when he spots a thin trickle of crimson on your ankle. 

You never even noticed the blood. 

“I…” You swallow. “I dropped the glass. It’s nothing.”

“It ain't nothin’.” Joel grips the steering wheel so tight you hear creaking leather. He could go back. He could storm right inside that club and beat the shit out of the kid. He wants to. But you're crying. Jesus, you're so sad, and he wasn't there. He's never there. 

You rest your head on his shoulder and wind your arm around his. “Just take me home, Joel. Please.”

He peels away from the curb and runs a couple yellow lights on the way. 

~

You don't let go of his hand as you both walk toward the bathroom. Joel is so careful with how he handles you, letting you sit on a chair from the kitchen as he gets on one knee in front of you, your wounded ankle up on his thigh. He wipes the tear stains from your cheeks and tends to the blood next, the first-aid kit on the floor next to him. 

“Your knees will hurt,” is the first thing you say. Your voice is raw and used. You’re still a little drunk, but he's perfectly clear. You can see every strand of hair on his head, every different shade of brown in his eyes. 

“I’m all right,” he says softly, cleaning off the dried blood. The glass from your Cosmo only sliced you, and the cut is shallow, but he frowns down at it like it's down to the bone. 

“Joel…”

“I wasn't there.” He says it through his teeth, his grip on your good leg tightening. “If I had been… I should be with you when you wanna go out and have fun. I should be dancin’ with you, and I should be the one who’s there when somethin’ goes wrong.”

“You couldn't have known,” you tell him, taking the washcloth from his hand. “I didn't… I didn't think he could… well, you know.”

Joel applies a bandage to your ankle and tucks himself a little closer to you, lifting up your chin with his thumb. “No, you couldn't have known. You handled everything so well, sweetheart.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” you say with a mirthless laugh. “I just ran. Didn't even tell anyone. Left Liam there to deal with… with—”

Your breath shudders on the way in, and Joel clicks his tongue to get your attention. “I know, baby. And you did everything right. You called me. You got out.”

“I never used to run,” you tell him. “I used to deal with all my problems head-on. I probably could've punched his lights out. I could've done more. I just…” You shake your head, averting your gaze. “He was a friend.”

Joel’s trying to blink the red mist from his eyes. Some fucker took advantage of you when you were vulnerable, when you finally decided to let loose and trust someone. He ruined your night. He put that frown on your face. He was going to take you somewhere Joel couldn't find you, and violate your body. Your beautiful, sacred body. He would have done it without regret. And you would never remember a thing. You’re fucking drunk, and he was going to rape you. 

Joel wants to kill him. No, he wants to lock him up in a fucking storage unit and torture him. He wants him to feel so much pain that skin becomes blood and blood turns to fire. He wants to do it all himself. No singular agony is sufficient. 

He’s never felt such rage before. It's like twisting the apple from the tree. His organs are all twisted up, and only drawing blood from the bastard’s filthy fucking body will reorient them. 

“I want you to look at me,” he rasps, shuffling forward so he's on his knees between your thighs. You watch him wearily as he caresses your cheek. “Good. Can I tell you somethin’?”

You nod. 

“When I was your age,” he begins, “I wasn't in college. I held down a job at the farm. I was goin’ nowhere. One night, Tommy calls me, askin’ for me to come pick him up from jail. He was three sheets to the goddamn wind, and decided to pick a fight at the bar. I was so mad. I wanted to beat the shit out of him, but in the truck, he broke down. Told me the asshole started talkin’ shit about our mom, our dad, our whole family. It was a small town. Way before Austin.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to go back to the bar just to finish the fuckin’ thing, take out the guy for good. But I had to get my brother home. Nothin’ else mattered.

“You can't solve all the world’s problems, sweetheart,” says Joel. “Sometimes, you gotta run to what's comfortable. Let other people handle the shitty parts.” He swipes a rogue tear from your cheek. “Will you let me be what's comfortable for you?”

Your fingers curl around his wrists as you give him a soft, weak smile. “How many times has your brother been to jail?”

Joel huffs. “How many hands you got?”

You laugh. It's raw and unsteady, but it isn't pain. It isn't misery. “You’re already what’s comfortable, Joel Miller.”

Later that night, you're curled up on his bed with half of your body covering his, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you doze. Showered, dried, and dressed in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, you've taken to the warmth of his body to help you sleep. Joel doesn't mind. He plays absentmindedly with your hair, his other hand occupied with stroking your thigh, which you've hitched up onto his torso. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers to the unanswering room. “I’m sorry I wasn't there, baby.”

You stir just enough that your nose brushes the heart-shaped patch on his beard, a soft sigh leaving your mouth. But you don't respond, your eyes still closed, your face still serene. Joel knows the morning will hit you harder than the night. He knows he has business to take care of. 

And he knows that your body against him, seeking his comfort, is a heaven that Joel Miller could never hope to deserve. 

~

You feel like shit, and everything hurts. 

You're not new to hangovers, but it's been long enough that you forgot about the shakes. The nausea. The aches. You shield your eyes from the light in the hallway as you stumble into the bathroom and frantically splash water over your face. Gently smacking your cheeks a couple times to jolt yourself awake, you squint your way downstairs, looking for Joel. 

You expect him to be gone. It’s close to ten, and he usually gets jobs on the weekends. But he's in the kitchen, fumbling his way through an omelette on the stove. 

You slump into a chair at the table and throw your head into your arms. “My kingdom for an Advil,” you groan. 

Joel abandons the stove for a moment to bend over you and press a kiss to the top of your head. Two little pills clatter onto the table next to you, along with a glass of orange juice. “You don't drink orange juice,” you croak, blinking up at him. 

“You do,” he says simply. “Go on. I’ll have breakfast ready in a minute.”

“If I throw it back up,” you say, “it's nothing against you. I very much love that you cooked for me.”

“I know, baby.” He kisses you again. “Drink.”

You swallow the pills with a mouthful of orange juice and watch him while he cooks. His hair is gently tousled, he’s dressed in a dark blue T-shirt, and his back muscles ripple with the subtle movements of his arms as he works. He’s got a cup of coffee next to him on the counter. “I wish you could’ve been there, too,” you say suddenly, your voice still weary. “I wish we could have danced together.”

Joel’s heart squeezes. “I can’t dance,” he says.

“I can teach you how. We’ll go together someday.”

It’s the promise of something that can never happen that has Joel turning off the burner, flipping the omelette onto a plate, and approaching you with his hand outstretched. “All right, then,” he says, lifting a challenging brow, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

You make a sound of exasperation. “I didn’t mean now. I can barely see through the migraine.”

Joel reaches for the pair of aviators he left on the table and slips them gently onto your nose. “We’ll take it slow.”

You take his hand. “You keep your hand here,” you say, guiding it around to your lower back. You lace your fingers together on his other hand. “And if you feel fancy, you can twirl me.”

Joel smiles down at you, his eyes twinkling. “And if I wanna keep you right here?” he says, punctuating his words by spreading his hand over your back and pressing you closer to him.

“You lose points for style,” you tease, “but I like it, anyway.”

“Don’t think they dance like this in the club,” he chuckles.

“No, but this is better.” You rest your cheek on his chest. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

Joel sways gently with you. “How’s it sound?”

You hum. “Strong.”

“You drive me crazy, that’s why.” His voice rumbles in his chest. It dulls the constant ache in your temples. “I like you too damn much.”

It crescendos. It swells in your ribcage, expanding your lungs, joy and serenity. So much affection that it sticks to your throat on its way out. “I really like you, too, Joel,” you whisper. 

When he pulls away, his eyes are shiny with a thin sheen of water. With a slow, deliberate, near-trembling hand, he lifts the glasses to the top of your head and tilts up your chin. He nudges his nose against yours before he kisses you, aligning your palms and fingers together. His hand dwarfs yours, and it’s warm. 

Your mouth is a little chapped and your head still pounds, but he feels so good. He guides you, as he always does, the hand on your back an anchor that brings you down through the earth to its very core. He holds you like you’re the precious centre of the world, of the very galaxy, a little orb of light that will shatter if dropped. Joel cannot, in fact, picture a world that does not have you in it. He doesn’t want to.

Neither of you register the sound of a key in the front door, nor the soft clicking of the lock as it closes. But you do hear the noise of a bag dropping to the floor, as if in shock.

It’s your father, standing in the doorway. “What the fuck?” 

~

To his credit, Mike doesn’t walk right up to Joel and punch him in the jaw. 

The two of you split apart like positive charges, smoothing down your hair as Joel rakes his fingers through his locks. Both of you are flushed and all three of you are, undoubtedly, mortified. Your father looks helplessly between you and Joel. “What the fuck are you doing?” he demands. “What… I… When did—”

“Dad, please.” Your voice is so small, and you feel like a child again. “Please, just listen.”

“Listen? I—” He runs his hands over his face and then braces one in the doorway. He looks ashen. “I don’t… What the fuck?”  

Neither you nor Joel say a word, and it seems to make him angrier. He storms right up to Joel and shoves him hard in the chest. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing with my daughter?” he demands. “Did you force yourself on her? Did you—”

“Hey!” You leap forward and pry him off Joel. “That is not fair.”

He rounds on you, his jaw clenched. You can see the vein in his neck protruding. “How long has this been going on?”

Joel’s slight movement toward you is minute, his hand twitching in your direction. “Mike, listen—”

“How. Long?” he says with a growl. 

“Since the night my car broke down,” you say evenly. “You weren't home, so I went to Joel’s. We…” You swallow thickly and let him put together the rest. 

Mike stumbles backward. “September?” His eyes slide murderously toward Joel. “My best friend has been fucking my daughter since September, and I didn't know about it?”

“Take it down, man,” warns Joel. “You're mad. I get it…”

“Mad. Mad is getting the wrong order of material for a job. Mad isn't this. This”—he points between you and Joel—“is the two people closest to me in the world going behind my back. This ain't mad, Joel.”

“We both made choices,” says Joel carefully, lifting his hands like he's trying to ward off an approaching bear. “Neither of us did this to hurt you, Mike. We just… just—”

“What? Like each other?” Mike scoffs. “There are a million other people in the world you could decide to like.”

He's right, of course. Both of you know it. You've even delighted a little in the illicit nature of it all, sneaking around so the pair of you could have a little peace in a pocket of the world that was all your own. “It's not just that,” you cut in. “Joel makes me happy, Dad.”

“Joel is old enough to be your father,” Mike shouts. 

Joel winces. Nobody, not ever, should raise their voice at you. “Don’t—”

“But you're my father, aren't you?” Your voice is getting louder, your tone wobbling as you approach tears. You never used to cry this much . “And you were never there. You weren't then, and you certainly weren't when you could have noticed us and you never did. You have no right to a say in who I have feelings for. You didn't even care enough to be my dad until my mom was already dead.”

The air rings with the abrupt silence when you finally let it all go. Your father looks close to a stranger with the way he stares right through you, his face a cool mask, betraying any sympathy he may have beneath. You take it as a sign that this is over. 

All of it is over. 

You dare to glance Joel’s way, but he's looking at the floor. Not even trying to reach you as you breeze past both of them and shut the front door behind you. 

And he lets you go. 

Joel regrets it the second you leave. The dread and the terror sit heavy in his chest. His oesophagus burns. It stings behind his nose, and he’s never wanted to cry the way he does now.

I’m in your corner. 

For as long as you want me there. 

Yeah. He’s no more than a fucking coward. 

He will never shed the image of your sad, hopeless expression as you realised Joel would not fight for you when you needed it. To fight for both of you. 

“She's wearing your clothes,” says Mike. There's no emotion left in his voice. Just resignation. 

“Yeah.”

Last night, he told you he would be your comfort. He’s told you time and time again that you deserve someone who will be there when you don't want to be there for yourself. That you don't have to make sacrifices. That you deserve happiness. 

How can a man like him be your happiness when he can't even lift his head up and beg you to stay? One look at real trouble and he froze. He shut down. 

Mike shakes his head, not meeting his eye. “You're sick, Joel. This is fucking sick.”

“You're outta line, Mike,” says Joel, feeling the fire in his throat surge up suddenly. “You’ve known her for, what, a couple months? Do you know what she likes? Do you know how much she's been struggling? Why she can't sleep? Jesus, do you care about anything besides fixing your own guilty goddamn conscience?”

Mike’s brows draw together. The rage burns again in his eyes. “Now you're out of line, Joel,” he says. “You don't know her any better.”

Will you let me be what's comfortable for you? 

“Yeah?” Joel steps forward. “You know why I was with her last night? This morning? Do you even know?”

I really like you, too, Joel. 

“Of course I don't know.” Mike tries to stay angry, but Joel can see it give way to concern. The fatherly concern he knows is there. 

“Some guy she thought was a friend put a roofie in her drink. She nearly drank it.” Joel lifts his brows in challenge. “You know who she called?”

I don't know what happiness is. 

He does know. Now, he's certain of it. 

“I’m gonna find the kid,” says Mike, slamming his palm down hard on the dining table. “I’m gonna fucking kill the kid. Who the fuck does he think he is, hurting my goddamn daughter?”

Joel understands. The memory of your tear-stained, distraught face makes the rage swell up again, the thick and honeyed promise of pain interlocking into a tedious tapestry. 

“You hurt her, too,” says Joel plainly. “And I hurt her. And the whole world has only ever hurt her. Take a look at everything’s she's gone through and reconsider if pushing her away for a choice she made will be worth it down the line.”

Mike sinks down onto the chair you occupied just an hour ago. 

“I just…” He rubs his hands down his face. “I just can't help but think about all the other times. All the times she was hurt and I wasn't there.” 

He knows the feeling. 

“She's been hurt plenty,” says Joel. “And she's strong.”

“She shouldn't have to be,” Mike returns. “She's young, Joel. She's got a whole life ahead of her.” He looks up, helplessly, the anger gone altogether. “You had to have thought about it.”

“Yeah. I thought about it.” And yet, the guilt is an ember that bursts into nothing. It's a passing thing. It is engulfed by the want, the need, the admiration for everything that you are. “Way I see it: she had to grow up too damn fast. She's spent her whole life making decisions for other people. I was a decision she made herself.” Joel shrugs. “I ain't sayin’ it's right. But she deserves to decide what she wants, with her life.”

Mike is quiet for awhile. His elbows on his knees, he bounces his leg restlessly, and Joel knows he’s fighting the urge to run out the door and follow you. Beg for you to return. Beg for your forgiveness. Joel wants to do the exact same thing. 

“You would've been good at it,” Mike says with a small, sobering laugh. “The whole dad thing. Better than me.”

“You’ve got time,” says Joel. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

~

When you get off the bus and walk up to your front door, Liam is waiting for you. His knuckles are scabbed over with blood. You can’t help but laugh, if a little hysterically.

“What the fuck,” you say through your tears, covering your mouth with your palm as you begin to sob. Liam surges forward and squeezes your arms. 

“What the fuck,” he repeats, his mouth set in a sombre line even as he matches your mirthless laugh. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” you sniffle. “I just left you there. Sonya and Leigh…”

“Understand. They very much understand.” Liam guides you inside, offering you a tissue from the living room table as you both sink onto the worn couch. “And hey, I was happy to punch him in the face.”

You try to smile, but it just doesn’t work. You’re still vaguely hungover, cold from the journey home, and your whole body feels heavy. Cinder blocks strapped to your ankles. Mouth permanently tucked downward at the corners. Eyes tired and sick of shedding tears. 

“What happened to him?” you dare to ask.

“Another guy at the bar saw him roofie your drink,” Liam explains. “He corroborated, and the bouncers chucked him out. Leigh called his parents, to make things worse. Sorry, better.”

You take a couple shallow breaths as the panic threatens to creep back up. “I have Chemistry on Monday.”

“Yeah,” says Liam. “So do I. So does Sonya and Leigh.” You frown at him, and he shrugs. “We have a free block. And if he has the balls to show up, we’d like to be there, too. Something tells me he won’t, just for the big-ass black eye I gave him.”

That just makes you cry a lot fucking harder. You drop your forehead onto Liam’s shoulder, your chest burning with the confusing pain of your misery and your affection for your friends. “I’m sorry I ever thought you were a creep,” you tell him. 

“You thought I was a creep?” Liam says. “I didn’t think I made it obvious that I liked you.”

Your laugh is a bit more genuine this time around, but the tears are still flowing. “Liam, you followed me around the house like a puppy. You asked where I was going every day just to make conversation, even though you knew my schedule.”

Liam whistles lowly. “Jesus. That’s so fucking embarrassing,” he grumbles. “I hope Sam didn’t think I was a creep.”

“Sam?”

“My girlfriend.”

You jolt upright. “You have a girlfriend? How come you never told us?”

“It’s only been a month,” says Liam sheepishly, “and I sort of thought you hated me. You’ve pretty much been avoiding this house the last few months.”

You look down at your hands in your lap. “Yeah. I had someone, too. It was never you.”

“That someone got you somewhere safe last night?”

You’re touched by his concern as much as the memory of waking up in Joel Miller’s bed makes you ache. “Yeah. He did.”

“Good.” Liam stands up, offering his hand to you. “You look like shit. Let’s go get breakfast.”

You think of the omelette Joel cooked for you, how it’s lying cold and uneaten, probably in the garbage can. He’d never eat it himself. It was all for you. 

Why couldn’t you stay? Why did you have to run away?

You take Liam’s hand after you wipe your tears away for the last time today. He doesn’t once ask about Joel. You have to thank him for that. 

Steve does not show up on Monday, nor Thursday. He’s ceased all attempts at contact, it seems, and squirrelled away to lick his wounds. Probably try again with another poor girl. You can only hope she’ll have the attentive friends that you do. 

You go to class. You go to work. You study. You sleep, sometimes. Most times, you’re trying to swallow your food even though it tastes like nothing. Liam announces one morning that Sam will be moving in by the end of the year. She’s an absolute sweetheart and Liam is smitten. 

Something is missing in your life. The shape of his body lingers in your periphery. The colour of his eyes and hair are in the trees and the sky and the earth. 

Two weeks pass and you don't see, hear from, or speak a word about Joel Miller. 

You passed all your final exams with all the extra time you could pour into studying, no longer spending the night in his bed. Your landlord had guys set up a shiny new landline throughout the house, and your phone number changed with it. So, if he’s tried to reach out, you wouldn’t know about it. He doesn’t show up at your home. You don’t drive near his neighbourhood or try to find him in the bar when you work late nights. And you still see his face everywhere.

That, you can never change.

The Longhorns have miraculously turned the season around, and they’re looking strong for the national championship. They need two more victories to secure their place, so Sandy’s Bar is packed full tonight. It’s halfway through the second period, and they’re leading 21–0. Rob has hired another girl your age, Julie, to help out, and you took a quick liking to one another. The bartop was replaced last week with a sleek new cherry wood. The lighting is warmer inside. The season is changing, and it’s noticeably colder. 

Rob notices—the way it takes more effort to smile nowadays, the way you stare off into space, the way you get dizzy sometimes because you’ve forgotten to eat—and he doubles down on his efforts to lift your spirits. He cracks more jokes, he gives you a two per cent raise for all the extra shifts you’ve taken on just to distract yourself, and he entertains you with stories on your breaks about his daughter’s hyperactive antics. 

Tonight, Rob’s working the tables, and Julie’s helping you behind the bar. She’s good at her job. And you can throw yourself into it, polishing glasses until they look transparent and perfecting each pour. It helps not to think. 

“Whiskey sour, please.”

You freeze at the sound of his voice. 

While your mother was sick, you never cried in front of her. You simply were there for her, holding her hand at her bedside and sharing anecdotes and being a daughter. You were good at it. You’ve lost that. You’ve somehow, at some point, shed your talent for confronting the world with a stern look and a strong arm.

This isn’t fair. 

You were trying to get better.

“What are you doing here?” It’s so embarrassing how terrible you sound: like wading through gravel.

“I came to beg,” says Joel. 

You pour another pint for Joe, who’s got his eyes glued to the television screen down the bar. “That isn't funny, Joel,” you whisper, avoiding his eye. 

Don’t let him see how much you’re hurting. 

“I’m not jokin’.” 

“You never order a whiskey sour.” Please just go. You’re only making it worse. “You don’t like sweet things.”

His eyes burn through your very soul the way they always have. They’re dark and warm and they make you feel like you’re the only person he’s ever truly looked at. “I’m tryin’ to change, I guess,” he says with a brief flash of a smile. “I tried to call, but I think I left a hundred messages on a dead line.”

Your throat is clogged. The corners of your eyes burn. “I’ll get that drink started for you.”

You turn your back to him once more, but he isn’t going to let you. Not this time. 

“I should've fought,” he says to your retreating form. It makes you freeze all over again. “I should have clawed tooth and fuckin’ nail to get him to understand. But I didn’t. I let you go.” You turn to look at him, finally, and the look he’s giving you—an on-his-knees pleading look—makes your knees weak. “I said I’d be in your corner for as long as you wanted me there. I lied. I’m yours no matter whether you want me here or not. You’re it for me, baby.”

You swallow hard. It burns all the way down. You recall slow-dancing in his kitchen, kissing him in the bed of his truck, his hands in your hair as he attempted a braid that never worked out. Touching you, comforting you, defending you. Appreciating you. Telling you it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. Telling you that you deserve to be fought for—that you don’t always have to be the one who fights. 

“You're his best friend,” you say plainly, pouring the simple syrup into the shaker. “I told you once that I never wanted to jeopardise your friendship, and I meant that. I still do.” You add the bourbon, your vision sharpening to the task at hand. Mind sharpening to the cold truth. The right path. “So you should go.”

Don’t choose me. 

Joel shakes his head, leaning in to get closer to you. You’re certain that some people are watching the intimate exchange, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. He’s only looking at you. “You’re the smartest, strongest fuckin’ woman I’ve ever seen. I have never known someone with so much life in her.” Every word is strong and rounded and so firm you almost start to believe it yourself. “Bein’ with you was like finally breathing, baby. I was stupid to ever think I could give you up.”

“Don’t.” It comes out as a croak. Your hands are shaking as you pour in the lemon juice. “I’m working. I can’t have this conversation with you.”

“Look at me. Please.” You blink hard to clear your vision and muster the courage to meet his dark eyes. “I need you. And I don’t give a fuck who sees or knows or looks at me the wrong way. I just need you. I need you here, with me, safe. Fuck, I want you happy.” 

He can’t stand seeing you like this. You’re visibly weary, dark circles under your eyes, your cheeks a little sallow and your colour less bright. He wonders if you’ve slept as little as he has. If you’ve laid awake and stared at the ceiling, thinking about him, the way he has you. If you’ve noticed all the times he’s driven past your home just to see if he can catch a glimpse of a light turned on in your bedroom. If you’ve wondered if he’s been calling, trying to reach you. He has. 

I’d hate to ever see you unhappy, Joel Miller.

“You once asked me if I was happy,” he says. “And I told you I didn’t know what happiness was. But it’s you. It’s being near you. It’s talkin’ to you on the phone, drivin’ out to the middle of nowhere with you, cookin’ with you even though I’m so fucking bad at it. You’re my happiness, baby. Only a fuckin’ coward like me would throw that all away—make you feel like you weren't worth it.

“Let me be with you. Let me make things right,” Joel pleads.

“He will never look at you the same,” you state, plain as day.  

He needs you to understand. “He’ll never look at me the same no matter what. You've spent your entire life sacrificing the things you want for other people.” Joel watches your eyes flicker between his, choosing which one to look at. You’re so beautiful that it strikes him, hard and true as a lance. “Remember that day in the kitchen, when I told you about selfishness? It’s okay to want. It’s okay to put yourself first.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. You need him to understand. “When I called him the very first time, I was so scared. I was scared he would reject me, decide he didn't want a relationship after all. But he did, and that was even scarier. Because I thought of my mom, and the way she died without getting to say a proper good-bye. I can’t… lose him like that, Joel.” 

“If your dad would rather see you like this than see you happy, he ain't your dad.” You’re so close, and he could touch you the way he wouldn’t even hesitate to mere weeks ago. But he doesn’t. “I’ll wait forever if that's what it takes, baby. But I want you to know, I—”

“Stop.” You shake the drink together to mix it until the outside is tearing up with condensation. “Just… stop. I’ll speak to him. But I—” 

“—can’t just pick it back up again.” He watches you pour the mixture into a rocks glass to the perfect level. “I know that. Didn't I tell you I’d wait forever?”

And when he gets his first smile from you in weeks, it feels like loosening the shackles around his ankles and soaring up to the heaven he doesn’t deserve. “Here’s your drink,” you say softly, sliding it in front of him. No orange wheel. No sickly-sweet cherry. You know him, inside and out. “Have a good night, Joel.”

He indulges in the feel of your soft fingers brushing his knuckles when he takes the drink. Flashes of skin and lips and the honey-warm look in your eye when he used to make you happy. He’s going to earn that again. You turn your back and tend to another patron. The Longhorns make the field goal.

~

He knocks on your door first. 

“I never should've let you leave,” he blurts out before you can open the door all the way. You can see his car parked on the street, but he still looks like he’s run all the way here, flushed and bounding with energy. 

You blink. “I…”

“You’re my daughter. You're my family. I know I don't have the right to that title, not with the way I treated you, but I want to earn it. I want to do better.” He puts his hand to his heart, and you remember the first time he talked you down from an attack. “That starts with understanding. Knowing why it's you and him.”

When you let him inside and guide him toward the dining table in the kitchen, Sonya and Leigh, dozing together on the living room couch, jolt upright and scurry upstairs with a quick wave to your father. You’re grateful for the newfound quiet when you sit across from him. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“No, thank you.” You can see that he’s nervous, lacing his fingers together then unlocking them and repeating the actions all over again. “I… I should have come earlier. I called, but—”

“New number,” you explain.

“Oh.” He studies you from across the table, lingering on your hair, your eyes. You remember having to explain the precise colour to him over the phone. “We took a break from doing jobs together, for a bit. Me and Joel. He’d take Tommy, or I’d take Tommy. I think the guy felt a little used.”

You laugh, even though he eyes you carefully when he says Joel’s name. “I’m sure Tommy’s flattered.”

“We’re okay,” he says tentatively. “We are.”

You break eye contact first, tracing a groove in the table. “I was afraid of ruining that.”

“I know. You’re a selfless person.”

“If I were really selfless, I never would have been with him in the first place.”

“Then, you’d be miserable.” Your head shoots up to meet his gaze, and he pins you with a pointed state. “Am I wrong?”

Slowly, you shake your head. 

“I don't promise to get it, honey,” he says. “But if I let you leave my life now, after all the time I've spent outside yours, I can't call myself a father. Will you let me try again?”

“You must know he came to see me.”

“I know,” he confirms. “That isn’t why I’m here. I’m here because my girl has been drowning in her own grief, just like when her mom died, and I wasn’t there to pull her out. I’m not doing that this time. I want to be someone you can go to.” He grimaces slightly. “I don’t want to be M.I.A. when your car breaks down because I’m out on a date.”

You lift your brows. “You were?”

“Her name’s Melissa.” He looks up at you and you can swear there’s a grin brewing behind those eyes. “She’s… a few years older.”

Your mouth drops open, the irony striking you like a slap across the face. “You hypocrite!”

He’s blushing so hard you can see it in the tips of his ears. “It’s my job to get angry when I find out my daughter’s dating!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Fondly. “I’ve been making decisions for myself for a long time. I’ve been on my own a long time, too. And for the record, I’m happy for you. I’m sure Melissa is lovely.”

He drums his fingers on the table. “When you had the… incident at the bar, I didn’t even know it happened until Joel told me. I guess it hurt more than anything that you didn’t call me when it happened. You went to him. It just—it reminded me that I’m practically a stranger in your life.”

Guilt twists your stomach. You hadn’t even considered how it would feel for him to hear the news from a separate party altogether. “I’m so sorry,” you tell him, reaching for his hand. “You are not a stranger to me. It wasn’t fair of me to reach out to you and then never give you a chance to be let in on my life. I said things I’m not proud of that day, and I’m sorry.”

“What you said that day was right,” he says. “I never noticed. A dad should notice things.”

“We both fucked up,” you offer, “a lot.”

He brings your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. “I wanna be better, honey. I want to be able to look at the two of you and see what’s good about it, not what’s wrong.”

You sit up straighter. “There isn’t… We aren’t the two of us anymore. I—”

“You are not going to throw away what makes you happy because some people can’t understand it.” He squeezes your hands tighter. “You have lived your life alone for so long. I will not be the one who keeps you from being happy. You don’t think I see how terrible you look right now?”

“Everyone keeps telling me that,” you say with a wry smile. “Do I really look like shit?”

“With all my love, honey,” he says, “yes, you do.”

You laugh with him, and the knot around your stomach loosens. “So,” you prompt, “can I meet the cougar you’re dating anytime soon?”

He gently ruffles your hair, and it feels like a bridge has been mended. “Smartass.”

~

It’s two days from Christmas when Joel sees the note. 

He and Mike are about to head out to Sandy’s before it shuts down for the holidays, but the rainstorm is bound to deter other patrons from doing the same. Truthfully, he’s hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Since you’ve picked up more shifts at the bar, it’s unpredictable when you’ll be there, and even the briefest of glances will thrill him, satiate him. His blood yearns for you. His bones ache for your touch. Every day he’s apart from you feels like cracking down a chisel onto his chest. He’s going to split open soon. 

The small, pink Post-It note is stuck to the countertop. Joel sets down his keys next to the note—he’s agreed to drive tonight—and spots your handwriting.

Dad—

Boxes all packed up. Rental truck will be here to pick up at seven. Thanks for dinner. 

Joel crumples the note in his hand. You were here, not long ago, where he was standing. No. No, no, no. 

You're leaving? 

He doesn't wait around for Mike to finish showering. He sprints out to his truck in the pouring rain and peels away from the curb, eyeing the clock on his dash. 6:54. 

He’ll make it. He has to. 

Your neighbourhood is a ten-minute drive at most, but Joel makes it at precisely seven o’clock. There isn’t a rental truck in the driveway; it either hasn’t come yet, or you’ve left with it. 

Joel nearly forgets to take the keys out of the ignition in his haste. His heart is pounding so hard he can hear it over the rain in his ears; it’s a cold and brutal wind that sends the rain hurtling down diagonally from the clouds. He races up to your front door and pounds on it. 

You open the door, dressed so prettily in a pair of yoga pants and a cozy blue sweater, and you’re fucking beautiful. You’re the most radiant thing he’s ever seen. His heart surges forward, calling to you. There’s a permanent scar carved into it, and it’s in the shape of your name.

“Joel?” You frown at him, stepping onto the porch and peering up at the sky. The rain is lashing him in the face, making him blink hard to clear it from his vision and keep on looking at you. His hair is wet as a dog’s after a bath, and it drips from his drenched clothes. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t go,” he begs, shuddering hard from the cold, relentless rain. “Don’t leave, baby. Please.”

You hug yourself, taking another step down, still shielded from the rain. “Joel, I…”

He can’t stop talking. He won’t shut up—not if it means he can still get you to say yes. “If you go, I go. I don’t like travellin’, and I’ll probably get sick in one of those brown paper bags, but I’ll be okay once we land.” 

“Joel—”

“I told you I’d wait for you forever, and I meant it. But if you get on a goddamn airplane, I am, too. You're not the kind of woman a man just lets go.”

You walk down so you’re only one step above him, shivering as the rain hits you.

“Joel, shut the fuck up,” you cut in. “I’m not leaving. I’m just moving.”

He blinks up at you. “What?”

“To my own apartment,” you explain. “Liam’s girlfriend’s lease is almost up, and the landlord is her uncle, so I’m taking her place on a discount while she moves into my old room.” 

“You’re…” The joy and relief pierce him at the core, and his voice breaks when he says, “You’re staying?”

You’re looking at him softly, your sweet eyes giving him that look you used to. “Of course I’m staying. I still have school, and work.” The rain plasters your hair to your face, soaks through your sweater, and he wants to curl you up in a thousand blankets, lie with you beneath the cover of warmth, never let you go.

You look down at the ground for a moment, and when your eyes meet his again, he dares not hope at the glimmer of happiness in your eyes. “I’ll need help unpacking all my shit again.” 

“Baby…” He chokes on the word. He’s suffocating on the knowledge that you still want him around. You’re staying. You’re here. 

“You came all the way here because you thought I was leaving the state?”

“Yeah,” he says lamely.

“And you still want to be with me?”

He nods, frantic, ready to sink to his goddamn knees if you ask. “I’m never gonna want anything more in my life.”

You step down so you have to look up at him, raindrops clinging to your lashes. You’re a picture. He hasn’t been this close to you in so long. He can smell your heady perfume through the earthy scent of rain. He could—

“Then can you just kiss me now?” you say, like a sigh of exasperation, closing the distance between you and clutching the hem of his shirt in your hand.

It is heaven to obey. He knows this time, clear and ringing true in his ears, that the world isn’t all bad. 

Joel cups your face in his hands and slants his mouth over yours.

Kissing you is like muting the sounds of the world and watching the colours hum with vibrancy. He keeps his eyes open for a moment because he can’t quite fool himself into believing this is real. But he sees your face, your eyes fluttering shut, and he feels your soft mouth, slick with rainwater, tasting of salt and your strawberry lip balm, and he lets his eyes close.

[auspicioustidings]

Are you still taking requests?? If so can you PLEASE cook up some Gaz/Farah/Alex you'd literally make my week

I also have an ask for Pacific Rim AU so please accept the dumbest little AU drabble on the planet while I am vaguely ill and unable to write anything with substance :') (honestly ask me again in a few weeks and I will do something much cuter)

Drift Compatible

Words: 700

Kyle Garrick had never thought he would be on a talk show. He had never had it on the cards that he’d have an action figure. He really had not considered he might be a sex symbol. Really the only thing in this whole situation that had been predictable was that he was drift compatible with Farah and Alex.

It had been Price that brought them in, argued that they should be allowed to try. Two people being drift compatible was rare enough, but for him to want to spend the time and money to test compatibility for a team of 3? He had turned heads with that one. Luckily the man was a war hero, one of the first Jaeger pilots, so as much as the higher ups tried to find a way to say no, they really couldn’t.

He remembered the first time he had seen a Jaeger in action. Price and Laswell had piloted the hulking machine beautifully, took down a Kaiju before it even got near enough to the coast to hurt anyone. The Teahouse Outlaw (they never did tell him where the hell that name had come from) was retired now, a museum piece. It was when he was looking at it that he had met Farah and Alex for the first time. Took him all of 47 seconds to fall madly in love with Farah. Took 52 for him to fall madly in love with Alex.

They all wound up in the pilot program together, but then it wasn’t really a coincidence. If Price decided you were a Jaeger pilot, then you were damn well going to become a Jaeger pilot. Simon and Johnny had qualified first. He had laughed at how completely covered in paint Johnny had gotten himself decorating their Jaeger with a little illustration of two goldfish in a tank. The Ghost Cleaner was a mean machine and the two of them had a rabid fan club in no time which they were very smug about.

The one country they could never top the popularity charts of was Mexico. Nobody was about to gain more popularity there than the Vaquero piloted by Ale and Rudy. Gaz couldn't really blame the people throwing flowers at them with any public appearance, the two of them were wildly handsome.

Gaz loved that the team Price had made was out there saving the world, but it had been a special kind of torture sitting on the sidelines. At that time there was no way to test for a team of 3 and with Alex and Farah already showing signs of compatibility, they wouldn't test him against either of them. But they struggled, he knew they did. 

They would crawl into bed after a long day frustrated and tired. They were drifting, but it was taking so much more out of them than it should. He had felt so helpless then, only able to hold them and try provide some comfort.

The day Price had revealed their unnamed Jager now with a 3rd station Gaz could have cried. It so immediately made sense then what had been wrong. Farah and Alex were amazing together, but the 3 of them were just right somehow. The first drift was intense, he had actually cried, so had Alex. Farah had cooed at them and laughed as she scrubbed at their faces with her hands to clear the tear tracks.

She had nearly cried when they had told her they wanted to call the Jaeger Walid. She kept it together though as always, just pressing all of her emotions into kisses. 

Price dubbed them all the 141. They became wildly popular, superheroes really. They certainly had some friction with other teams out in the world, but everyone had the same goal, everyone was fighting the good fight in their own way.

The fact that the cockpit was actually a pretty exciting place to relieve some tension with his lovers after a hard mission was really a bonus.

[mamamittens]

Order Up!

Date Night is here!

From 2-1-23 to 2-14-23 my ask box is functioning as a date generator! (If I get overwhelmed I'll temporarily close my ask box while I catch up)

All you have to do is bring yourself (whatever you may be AFAB, AMAB, F!, M! or any combination therein as long as I can reasonably guess what kind of clothes you wear and pronouns you use) and at least one character of your choice. (And what fandom they’re of, naturally, just to make sure the right person shows up!)

For details about yourself, feel free to add small physical descriptors and personality if you’d like a little mention of them. Eye, hair, skin color, hair type, height, and body type are fine! It doesn’t have to be a massive block of text (for the sake of your hands while typing, I wouldn’t recommend it either). And for personality, you can include anything that you feel would be relevant to the situation. If you tend to crack jokes when you’re nervous or have a hard time keeping eye contact, throw that bad boy in there!

Who can you date? Any character that is canonically 18 or older and fictional! And please, no lolis or shotacons, I don't care if they're technically 5,000 years old if they're still built like a grade schooler.

If I’ve written for you, specifically for your OC before now, you may ‘bring’ them to the date instead of yourself. This is just because I’m already familiar with them and there won’t be any misunderstandings about said character that you’ve created. If I’ve written for you before and it was a reader insert you can simply call back to that as long as you’re not anonymous.

Then you must simply grab one of each ‘treat’ and enjoy your date! Alcoholic drinks and shots are explicitly NSFW and so their responses will be marked as such (so if you’re underage and asking anyway you likely won’t get to see the response).

I will fulfill the asks as I am able, so please do be patient! I figured I’d try something a bit new and zesty this time!

Chocolate – Where?

Toffee – at home

Caramel – Fancy restaurant

Cream – holiday/work-ish function

Nuts – Casual dinner

Cherry cordial – Movie date

Hard Candy – Relationship?

Lollipop – Total strangers

Candy Cane – Brief fling

Lemon Drops – Casual Friends

Konpeito (Japanese star candy) – Childhood friends

Mints – Blind date

Pop Rocks - Arranged marriage (Watermelon for engaged and Strawberry for Married)

Soft Candy – Reception?

Gummy worms – Nervous nerds

Gummy bears – Confident and loving the energy

Candy corn – Enemies to lovers speed run

Fruit Roll – Love at first sight

Cotton Candy – Sweet from the start

Drink – How does it go?

Soda – The start of a very interesting relationship!

Water – Eesh! Maybe we got off on the wrong foot? (With Lemon for sour end and with Strawberries for sweet end)

Alcohol* - In the bedroom!

NSFW +18 ONLY

*Alcoholic shots – Kinks! Phrase it as “Shot of X for (character A)” for them to receive it specifically. There isn't a limit for shots but keep it reasonable lol, I'm probably not going to write 10K on one date ask because you asked for everything and the kitchen sink.

White Russian – Creampie/Cum play

Hot Damn – Praise kink

Mind Eraser – Degradation

Afterburner – Choking/breathplay

Jell-o shot – Edging

Pineapple Upside Down Cake – Oral

Alice in Wonderland – Size Kink

Motor Oil – Marking

Kamikaze – Temperature play (Served hot or cold for temp preferences)

Jager Bomb – Rough Sex (Extra strong is hate sex)

Green Tea shot – Soft Sex

Pink Schnapps – Dom/Sub (The person receiving this shot will be designated the ‘Sub’)

Black Jack – Restraints

Brain Hemorrhage - Overstimulation

Warning! Some shots may interact in unexpected ways! Keep this in mind when ordering! Especially if you have squicks that may arise in the mixed combination!

Woah! An Extra special treat category! (Entirely Optional!)

Mochi Ice Cream – Yandere

Vanilla – Obsessive

Red bean – Possessive

Grean tea – Delusional

Strawberry – Protective

Coffee – Manipulative

So, in theory, what would an order look like? (Using one of each category)

“Hi! I’d like a chocolate cream, candy corn, and a soda with a shot of Mind Eraser, extra strong Jager Bomb, and Afterburner for myself with Aizawa from MHA. I’m M!AFAB with brown hair and eyes, pale skin, with a tongue piercing and a preference towards masculine clothing! I like to go by "Sky". I also have a tendency to not know when to shut up and like teasing people in a fight. If it’s alright, I’d also like him to have a red bean mochi.”

It doesn’t have to be exactly like this, or even in this order specifically, so long as it’s clear what you want included. If you have a squick that’s reasonably associated with one of the items you ordered, feel free to ask me to ‘hold’ that aspect. For example, with a chocolate cream (work function date), if you feel really uncomfortable with boss/subordinate dynamics, you can let me know! For an NSFW example, you could ask me to ‘hold the White Russian’ for it to basically be safe sex.

Remember, once it's in my ask box, the ball is in my court! So be polite, patient, and bear in mind that I'm ONLY working with what is in the singular ask! I'm unaware of a character limit for asks, but try to keep it in one so I can easily sort through them if need be or make it VERY clear that it's yours across multiple asks if you're asking anonymously!

Hope you all enjoy the event!

[misseffect]

Writer Tag✒️✒️

Thanks for the tag @angry-jager 💕

What's your total word count on AO3?

37,863 which is pretty wild

Do you have a routine for writing?

Lately I've started trying to be better about having ✨healthy writing habits✨ which sounds like one of those trendy, performative mental health buzz-phrases, but it's legitimately the best thing I've done since I picked up writing again.

I check my phone, get a drink, etc. then set a timer for half an hour, sit down at my PC and write without distractions (no phone, no research, no editing; only write) for the full half hour. Then I get up to do something else for 5-10mins, and set another timer to go again.

3 half-hour blocks is about my upper limit for getting something decent out of a session, so I go do something else for an hour or two, then come back for a few more blocks later if I can.

What is your favourite trope / pairing?

Trope? Mutual pining.

Pairing? G U E S S

Favourite fic (of yours)

I feel like I answer this question differently every time, but right now it's Dress Blues. I love Garrus POV and I'm dead proud of how it turned out.

Fic with the most kudos

Can You Feel This? which is not my best fic but it's the kind of fic that's popular so 🤷‍♀️

Is there anything you don't like about your writing?

I have a really, really hard time with any project longer than a one-shot. From an outside perspective that looks like a lot of half-finished fics 😅 but behind the scenes there's a lot of getting tangled up in themes and character motivations, struggling to pace the story over a higher wordcount, and just getting freaked out by the scale of the thing.

Basically I think my writing suffers more and more the higher the wordcount gets, and I don't know how to fix it.

Now something you do like

On a macro level I think I have a nice way with pacing; I can write economically without compromising on the sense of place, character, or feeling. I'm also really fucking funny.

Tagging @otemporanerys @diaphanouso @kalliesa and @dispatchwithlove !

[diaphanouso]

Fic Wrap Up Meme 2022

Tagged by @otemporanerys! Thanks!

Words Published: 109,585 …w h a t... (o_o')

Fandoms: Mass Effect, The Shape of Water, a tiny sprinkling of Gremlins

3 Fanfics with the most kudos in 2022:

Acts of Service (138)

Vox Spiritus (137)

Flare (113)

(So grateful to everyone who read and enjoyed these ❤️)

Favourite Opening Line from a fic in 2022:

Silence blanketed the settlement as Nihlus lifted his omni-tool to check his bearings. Due north, toward the mountains. The light of the twin moons cast an amethyst outline along the edges of the slanted metal roofs. (from Stay)

Favourite Closing Line from a fic in 2022:

Their breaths joined the night air, perhaps to go off and form a storm somewhere, leaving the two of them to the sweet moment of peace they’d found together, lost in each other under the eternal watch of the night sky. (from Breathe With Me)

Fic I’m Most Proud of in 2022: That would have to be Stay, written for last year's Spec Recs fic exchange. It's a Samara/Nihlus (Specticar!) fic that explores what happened between them when she pursued him to exact justice all those years ago. It also touches on Samara's grief over her daughters. It was my first time writing her, and I really enjoyed learning more about her character! And of course, writing anything with Nihlus is always fun 😏 Also thought the smut was pretty hot, if I may say so. 😅

New Things I Tried in 2022:

Fic exchanges! Spec Recs was the first organized fic exchange I'd participated in, and it was such a great experience. It pushed me out of my comfort zone, and I'm so glad for it. I also participated in last year's Fornax Exchange and the N7 Exchange for the first time and really enjoyed both experiences.

Writing classes! In August, I started taking some online writing classes. I learned and wrote SO much, ending 2022 with a lot of short original works and skills I can try to transfer to my fic writing!

Experimenting with screenwriting! I entered some screenplay challenges where we had like a handful of days to write a 5- or 6-page screenplay based on randomized prompts. While I had a very small amount of time just to learn the basics of writing a screenplay, it was a lot of fun. And it reinforced how hard it can be to convey a character's state of mind JUST through their actions. It also made me more aware of character blocking. In general, it was a great experience!

Goals for 2023:

Draft a significant portion* of Hungry Eyes; resist posting until it becomes unbearable

Get back to polishing chapters from Vox Spiritus, maybe even post them

Wildcard🎲: For whatever random plot bunny pops up that demands my attention. Appease random plot bunny.

Be more conscious of how I think about my writing. That mostly means pay attention to the negative self-talk that starts up every so often. If I'm in a "hate my writing" spiral, I want to try and identify what specifically I'm hating on and look at it constructively (maybe even kindly), the way I would with a friend. Easier said than done, but I'm gonna give it a whirl.

Keep learning and improving my writing craft!

*uhhh I'll know what this is when I get there, lol

Tagging @dispatchwithlove @angry-jager @kalliesa

[krya-unv]

WIP

Tagged by the lovely @r6shippingdelivery. I usually do not share anything that is not completely finished, but in the last few weeks I have been having so many good ideas that I have been having a hard time keeping up with them myself. 

Brace yourselves cause this is gonna be long. First thing first, this week is Jager’s birthday! I love him a lot so I decided to do a little icon style drawing of him. Here’s the lineart (I have actually already finished it, but whatever, gonna post it on Thursday since that is his birthday):   

Second, I am a sucker for AU of almost any kind. So I have been thinking about what kind of setting would fit a bunch of military men and I had concluded that ‘Escape from Tarkov’ and ‘Control’ are actually pretty good. I have written 1k words for two different fics, one for each setting, but I had second thoughts about the EFT one, so that one will most likely get thrashed and rewritten completely. Meanwhile, I think I am going somewhere interesting with the Control one. Here’s a snippet of it:

“Are you currently in possession of a smartphone or a laptop, sir?” the guard currently rifling through his duffel bag asked him. 

“Yes, I have a phone.” John took it out from the back pocket of his pants and handed it to the guard who promptly put it in a ziplock transparent bag and labeled it with a marker. 

“Are you currently in possession of a pager?”

 John frowned. It must have been at least twenty years since pagers were a thing, right? “No, I don't."

“Are you currently in possession of anything that could be considered a weapon, such as a gun or a knife?”

John rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t.”

“Are you currently in possession of any of the following items: smart watches, smart gaming devices, or any similar devices?”

“No smart devices,” John confirmed.

“Any pencil? In particular, any number 2 pencil?” Was the guard pulling his leg? “No pencils either.”

Third, I have been following a couple of fancomics on here and decided to try my hand at it too with a storyline I have been working on since 2019 staging Apex Legends characters into the Monster Hunter setting. Then, I realised I despise writing faces, so now I am left with a few pages sketches up until I get better at drawing sketches. Here’s a couple pages that I did two weeks ago:

Lastly, I have picked up again Monster Hunter Rise with my boyfriend and fell in love again with the palamutes. So I skethced our good boys cause I love them so much.

Their names are Garmr and Fenrir (we went with the northern mythology theme even though the game is basically only japanese mythology, we also named our little owls with the names of Odin’s two owls, but I can never remember the names).  This is them in game (I love Monster Hunter, let me fangirl about it):

[haematophiliac]

name. Jax or Jager. I don’t mind which you use for me.

pronouns. He/him.

preference of communication. Discord preferably.

name of muse. Jax. God damn asshole I stole your name.

rp experience / how long. RP in general? 2001/2ish. On here since 2014.

best experience. Basement threads... :)

fluff, angst, or smut. Make me hurt. Give me angst. Emotions are rare.

long or short replies. Any. Though I have to say that longer replies are hard work.

best time to write. Evening because I come alive then. London time evening that is.

are you like your muse. ... I hope I’m like none of my muses tbf. Assholes. But then comes along Leo who reminds me that I share a lot in common with each muse and that kills me inside.

[the-firebird69]

And in Los Angeles the writer strike stopped and her son says they could ride into work and nothing else to do fix the bike and said this is too easy and started writing stuff. It's not what happened they started threatening the empire and no not with driving their bikes up into their car. They're dangerous though but we do have stuff to announce.

-there are about 50,000 people at the first ring no it's 300,000 and a few billion on the outside of the 14th ring and it's getting bigger. They'll try fairly soon

-there are a lot of people bothering him but we have to get some things out there are a huge number of people going to the northern ships and they hear the engines revving and for about 10 minutes about an hour ago really loud and they're bringing it up to speed and stress and blowing out all sorts of carbon it also checking the procedure and they're looking at going over it but they're running it through the emotions right now and they noticed it sounded like before it's a countdown and that's about a day left and I think tomorrow night and yeah that's why Tuesday afternoon song and I was thinking about us and threading as well as stuff and it's Trump and he's going to get he's going to get killed completely I can't stand him this is a jackass

-there's a huge number of people that hate him and they're organizing part is to go after them all over the world and yeah more like you're still at 20% off Island this war over the ships is causing them great losses and huge areas of those are empty tonight they sent so far 2% North globally of the general populace and it works out to be now there's two not to 18% and they're pretty huge still they plan on attacking below too cuz they have to maintain their areas and stop the cloning in the ships they want to see what's in the ships too I think that they're all sorts of piece of hardware Jager and more and they want to find out where this petrified lime is so additionally they're fighting topside it will reduce them more

-they're about 20,000 people trying to head towards the neighborhood to tell our son to shut up but really they're going to go after these trumpsters and they're outside the ring no they're getting here somehow and they're going after Trump's in his positions in the neighborhood and new positions too it's going to be a little war here

-there's a lot more to talk about but we have a couple big things and he's going to get some rest there is a massive war over what he was talking about earlier that is the hard Stone massive is gigantic and pine Island and ships like that are prime targets you see they're big and they have appointments and they're shaped right like the imperium and the gothic Armada. And yes it is our area of expertise and Salazar and got his wife as well with the church out there as attracted a lot of stuff but nowhere near as much as the stone and the stone outside of the Miami area is being looked at by everybody and they want to test it in more and to try to get a piece of it it is a huge deal what he said was huge it's important because this building they found it and they're asking him and he says it's for a test and he probably has some more that were a petrifying to put them somewhere in something in Florida they're looking around I can't find it and he's wondering what color it is so they're trying to do that there's a couple more things but we'll have to wait he's going to shower and rest for a while it's about the war there's a few more aspects and they're going after people that look like us I don't know what that means because we look different but okay baby little fat and they don't get it everybody looks like this cuz I can't help it and the second thing is we are having a problem with warlock or evacuating now the 18% is going to be 2% evacuating which is very huge I'm going to put an alert out in a moment

Nuada Ariana

Olympus

[thinkingthroughpracticewithseren]

Storytelling - Where do we get our stories from? What can we do with them?

I've always been a keen writer, since I was very young and full of incredible ideas. Some of those stuck with me, but naturally, growing up is the worst thing we can do. Children are geniuses, and I'm going to show you why.

As a group we were given some themes in which we all needed to account a story we had that could tie into these themes. To begin with, we were given the theme 'First love' instantly people cringed as they wrote, but these stories tend to be the better ones to tell. Being a natural writer myself, I was able to construct my story in a way that described every detail from my outfit to exact quotations of that night. It is important when constructing a story to consider how listeners will visualise everything that is described such as location, 5 senses, colours and time period.

My 'First Love' Story - edited

'I almost didn't go. It was a friends 18th birthday party, my hair and makeup just didn't look right and, inevitably, I had a strop. I almost didn't go. Anyway, I put on a brand new brown dress, short with straps around the neck, I immediately felt confident. So I went. I remember ordering two malibu and orange juices, doubles of course. Liquid confidence, you might say. Shortly after my eyes caught another's; tall, blonde, almost pretty, for a rugby boy. I knew I had to shoot my shot but I had nothing to talk to him about. I saw him produce a very much not subtle yawn, that was where I unfortunately came out with the almighty, holy grail of pickup lines. 'Tired, are you?' and from there the conversation lasted all night, his arm made its way around my back. So cringe when I think about it now, but I was so in love. Rugby boys are like that though, stay away if you can. I'm joking, but the months spent with him after were so exciting. It was the first time I had ever been able to say I was in love. The fact that I almost didn't go, if I didn't I wouldn't have had that chance to fall in love, but had I not gone, I would have been able to stop myself from the bittersweet concept that is love.'

My 'Before I Was Born' story - edited

'Before I was born, my dad was a copper, a fed, a PIG. Well, yes, he was a policeman. He worked Cardiff streets on Saturday nights, fights Caroline street, Queen Street, you name it, he worked it. I find it hard to believe he was ever a rozzer, I always thought he was lying, you know how parents sometimes lie to scare you or discipline you, but he wasn't. He still has that massive police torch at home, and I'm talking over 30 years ago. But now, when I'm out causing nothing but chaos on the streets of Cardiff, I thank god he's not doing it anymore. My dad being a fed on a night out? Enough to ruin anyone's fun.'

It was very intriguing to listen to the stories shared by my peers, but what I found most interesting was that the majority of people had recalled a story from their childhood, as I said before, the things we did as children seem to stay with us forever, no matter how 'cringe' they make us feel to share. This is part of the creative process, and exciting stories are all around us.

We were then given the theme 'Before I was born' which seemed almost limitless. There was no rule to say this story had to be personal, but naturally, everyone seemed to recall a family story. The most interesting thing about this was that all the stories were so very different. I was taken in by each and every sharing of the stories, each written so differently, too.

Exploring with different themes really made me think harder and delve further into my past to bring old memories back to life. I feel I naturally took on an intriguing writing style that helped me to create audience anticipation and comedic elements, too. When editing these stories, I noticed how I always took into account the descriptive elements of my stories. For example, the five senses. I described a 'brown short dress' and the 'smell of jager bombs' these small details allow the audience to engage their imagination when hearing the piece which I feel adds to the atmosphere.

Initially, the act of sharing my own stories was slightly uncomfortable given the themes we were working on, however I was able to find comfort in my own writing style that reassured me that my audience were interested. I feel this was due to the fact these were unheard stories about myself that I may have never said aloud before, but the act of sharing them created a comfortable environment within our group dynamic and presented a clear development in our skills of speaking and listening.

When hearing other stories, it was interesting to feel various emotions evoked by them. For example, there was a lot of juvenile love stories that were easy to resonate with and made this humorous to hear as a group. I also do feel that the majority of the group were able to adopt a similar style of storytelling as a lot of the stories shared had comedic elements too. I think that we were all able to access memory well and deliver stories that would be of interest to an audience and also that gave us space to edit.

During the editing process, I was able to adapt my autobiographical stories to ensure that the key information of these stories was delivered well without inclusion of any unnecessary detail. When editing these pieces, I was still able to maintain the same style of writing as this ensured that the stories remained interesting and could build both audience anticipation and allow for resonance with audiences.

As we explored with various themes during the writing process, I felt that the use of themes is a really useful element for devising work. This is because the initial themes give us, as creators, a stimulus to develop from, while also allowing us to understand who will connect and resonate with themes. I also found smaller themes within the stories we created, for example, when focusing on the theme 'Before I Was Born' each member of the group shared a family-related story, which immediately helped to create a relatable theme again. However, there were also times when the theme extended to measures we did not expect, as there were many stories that took us on unexpected journeys.

When we began to consider locations for stories, we were able to undertake a trial-and-error method in which we found various locations around the university campus to share stories. For example, the bridge in the car park, under the stairs, and near the prison walls. Each of these placed the audience in a new dynamic that impacted the way the story was told and heard. What I found most interesting about this technique was that the audience were immersed in the stories and had more of a connection to them. The idea of us telling stories in different locations worked effectively as we were able to find suitable locations for specific stories which added visual appeal as well as audible.

What I had not considered before but did find interesting was the impact of a disruption in the telling of a story. For example, when listening to a story. if somebody had to repeat themselves or stumbled over a particular sentence, this communicated performers' emotions firstly, but also made these particular words stick with us as audience members. This allowed me to reflect of the idea of impulse and pace that we previously explored with as these can be both deliberate and non-deliberate, similarly to these disruptions in the telling of a story. What I found in my own writing was the way that every story that I told included a direct quotation or dialogue, a joke or tagline, and some form of repetition. I feel these techniques are important to storytelling as these are the minor details that stick with the audience most and these are moments that make our stories memorable.

What was interesting about placing stories into a sequence to create a performance, was that there was a varied concept of 'flow'. There were certainly times where the pieces felt seamless and could feed into each other well, however there were times where I felt a lack of continuity, particularly when moving between locations. This is something that could be improved by extending our dialogue/ensemble pieces into a thematic 'filler' to avoid unintentional alienation of our audience. However, when adopting a sequence for these stories there were apparent links between some of the stories, and others that felt more isolated and more subtle. However I enjoyed the subtly of some of these stories as they presented the idea that one theme will not limit all stories to sound the same, this also allowed us to reflect personality into the piece as well.

I feel that the process of storytelling is an effective way to find common ground between a group of people, but individuals of the group may also still remain separate from this. This is what ignited my idea of 'Do we really know each other?' which we made the collective decision to include in our devised performance as a concept explaining how we could bring an audience on an emotional and physical journey using personal stories, and yet they still never really know us. I enjoy this as a concept as I feel it relates strongly to the wider world and I feel this gives a large opportunity for an audience to interpret this in whatever way they feel is right. This is what intrigues me most about theatre, we never really know a story because we all perceive it differently.

As we utilised my idea of the unknown, we were able to explore more with our ideas on impulse and pace. We know that theatre practitioners have consider both of these concepts in their work, particularly in devised theatre and there is something more impactful about group impulse. I considered Stanislavski's work on impulse and the systematic approach he took towards taking something we do everything subconsciously and exploring with the small boundary between conscious and subconscious impulse in a group environment. We considered this in both a physical sense and through dialogue too. We then stemmed more from the question 'Do you know me?' and created a number of entirely random questions to create a 'quick fire' effect around the table. This presented an impulsive atmosphere in the room as we were answering each question with 'Yes, No or Maybe' without hesitation to keep up rhythm and pace between us. I found this dynamic created an almost uncomfortable atmosphere which had a real impact on the concept of not knowing each other, this worked very well.

Essentially, us bringing an audience on a journey to various locations in which they hear many different stories, followed by this impulsive round of unexpected questions did create some form on alienation, particularly when moving between locations and there were short amounts of time in which the audience were no longer immersed in the performance. I felt that this required some more clarity as we had not intended on creating this feeling, however it happened due to lack of continuity here, I feel.

As for locations, I think that the majority of them were suitable for the story being told, however there are certainly ways we could push this further. For example, as we hear the story told by Marley with the chapel in view, I was intrigued to know what would have happened if we were to enter the chapel and have the audience act accordingly. I feel with this story in particular, there would have been more sense of shock for the audience had they been fully exposed to the expectations of a religious building. I felt that the dynamic changed with every story and really impacted the journey. The telling of Rubi's story that was told between the bookshelves was a really interesting dynamic as it felt as though we were being told a secret.

I chose to tell a story of a time I had fallen down the stairs in a nightclub. I performed this on the stairs, audience standing above me while I was laying sprawled across the stairs. I felt this worked well for the story I wanted to tell as it added something more engaging. I also used music to create some ambience here, which pulled the audience further into my world.

Sharing these stories as a community of actors based in the UK made me wonder what kinds of stories I could get from other groups. For example, I feel some of the most interesting stories could be told by a group of people who are/have been convicted of a crime/s. I was drawn to this idea as I was intrigued to explore with the extent of how much we truly know each other, which I believe is not at all. This is what I enjoyed most about this process is that I was able to delve so deeply into myself to bring out emotions that I haven't felt in a long time and allow myself to feel vulnerable, and yet still, nobody really knows me.

What I talked about before, children being geniuses, it really only came to me when working on devising theatre. As all of us had shared some form of childhood story, if not multiple, and this intrigued me as I had not realised before how many of our best stories are all around us. If I were to revisit this devised work, I would include some more clarity for the audience, but not total clarity. This is because what many people enjoy most about theatre is that it is open to interpretation, as with each of the stories we constructed.

[randomly-random-jen]

Uncalled For Actions (1/?)

A Girl Genius fanfic written in sentences.

At the beginning of the month, I decided to try a new format to break through my writer’s block. Instead of a set number of words to write every day, I chose to write a certain number of sentences--one sentences on the 1st, two sentences on the 2nd, etc., updating the post each day with the new set of sentences.

As that repost is getting extremely long, I’m condensing the first 14 days into one post and starting a new one for the rest of the month.

When Gilgamesh Holzfäller is fourteen, he’s taken on as an apprentice to Baron Wulfenbach as part of a program to produce the next generation of leaders in the Empire--a group that will hopefully get along (although most see this as wishful thinking on the Baron’s part).

He’s learned a lot over the months of shadowing the Baron, but nothing has prepared him for his most challenging assignment: confronting the skeletons in his closet.

PART 1

“I’m telling you,” Gil said through clenched teeth, “this is a really bad idea.”

The Baron regarded him over the edge of the newspaper he read with a withering stare. “Please sit down, you’re agitating the Jägers.”

Across the room, a couple of Jäger guards snickered to each other. Gil glared then crossed his arms, staring out the porthole–pointedly not sitting. The Baron went back to reading his paper with a rustling flourish, the Jägers continued to giggle and Gil pouted as Sturmhalten grew large on the horizon.

* * *

Tarvek watched from his window as the great Wulfenbach airship docked with the tower across the castle. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle a moment before he smelled Anevka’s perfume flutter in ahead of her.

“That’s sure a big one, isn’t it?” she said, leaning against the other side of the window.

Tarvek huffed at her terrible incorrectness–this was nothing compared to Castle Wulfenbach.

“So, how much of a disaster do you expect this farce to be,” his sister asked with humor in her eyes.

“Unmitigated,” Tarvek answered flatly as the stewards ran around the roof opposite of them, tying off the airship. It was almost showtime.

“Oh, come now, baby brother, I thought this was your thing–politics and intrigue-”

“Members of the Fifty Families under one roof with the Baron–this is a nightmare.”

“Always the optimist,” Anevka said with a sigh, patting his cheek affectionately. Tarvek slapped her hand away, and she left–her tinkling laugh following behind.

Across the courtyard, the airship was finally secured and the gangplank clanked down with a hiss of steam that matched the puff of Tarvek’s breath against the cool windowpane.

“I know you’re there,” he said suddenly to the silent room.

From the shadows, the small girl materialized, her wild red hair held in place by a golden headband. “Not fair,” she said, lip out in a pout.

Tarvek ignored her petulance. “Report.”

Violetta glared at him a moment longer–probably considering if she could get away with murder at the age of ten, he imagined–but eventually snapped to attention. “The castle is at capacity; we await only the Baron and his en- entou- entourage.”

Tarvek smiled at his reflection as she tripped over the new word he’d taught her earlier in the day. “How full are we talking?”

“Not including the castle residents and staff, fifty-four delegates of the Fifty families, their apprentices, 270 attendants, and about a hundred Smoke Knights.”

When Tarvek made no comment, Violetta shifted her weight nervously. “Do you really think something bad is going to happen?”

“With the various branches of our family involved, it’s almost a given.” He removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Just keep your eyes open and stay out of sight, okay?“

Violetta didn’t answer, and when he replaced his glasses, he found himself alone again. She was getting good. She was going to need to be better.

* * *

The deck shuddered slightly as the steam winches kicked in, slowly tugging the airship closer to the landing tower of Sturmhalten Castle. The castle itself looked like the dozen others Gil had visited in the months since officially becoming the Baron’s apprentice, if not a little more war-torn–almost as if the residents failed to repair the century’s old scars of battle as a matter of pride. Knowing what he did of the Storm King myths, it probably wasn’t far from the truth.

“Gilgamesh,” the Baron called without looking up from his paper, “stop fidgeting.“

Gil winced, dropping his hands to his sides before he worried the buttons right off his new greatcoat–a habit he thought abandoned years ago. It was this place–Sturmhalten and all it represented–that was twisting his insides into knots. “I knew this was a bad idea,” he mumbled to his reflection in the porthole.

Across the compartment, the baron sighed, snapping his paper shut with the flick of a wrist.

The expected lecture was interrupted by a flurry of fur and velvet bursting through the door.

The Jäger guards darted out of the way of the diminutive human-canine hybrid the Baron had picked up from an ousted Madboy in Vienna–something about wanting minions as loyal as his dogs.

“Herr Baron,” he called, waving a paper.

“What is it, Barkley?”

Barkley bowed, his snout nearly touching the floor. “Initial reports from our spies inside Sturmhalten, sir. Already five assassination attempts thwarted.”

The Baron took the paper and scanned it. “Only five? I would have expected more.”

“The delegates from two of the Fifty Families have fallen to a mysterious illness producing bizarre symptoms,” Barkley continued.

“What symptoms?”

Barkley’s ears flattened against his skull. “Apparently they cluck now.”

That got a raised eyebrow from the Baron. “Cluck?”

“Yes, and they’ve grown feathers, but only when a bell rings.”

"Sounds like early-stage Oxfam’s Hypnotosia–very contagious. They’ll need to be isolated before the entire summit is laying eggs.”

Barkley nodded. "There have also been rumblings of monsters under the village.

“Well, it is Sturmhalten–I would expect nothing less.”

The Jäger next to Gil clapped his hands. "Monsters? Now hyu iz talkink.”

“No, Skurzi,” the Baron interrupted sternly. “No Jägers at the summit–that was the agreement.”

Skurzi sulked, shoulders hunched. “Hyu say dat now, but just hyu vait until a monster iz chompink on hyu head then hyu vill be all like, ‘why Hy not listen to Skurzi. Oh, howz Hy vish Skurzi vas here to fightz dis big scary monster.’”

The other Jägers nodded in agreement, but the Baron didn’t look at all swayed by the argument.

Gil watched the entire exchange with interest–he’d only recently been taken on as an apprentice, and found the day-to-day running of the Empire predictably tedious but also exceedingly fascinating where personnel was involved. Especially the Jägers. As much trouble as they caused, Gil wasn’t quite sure why his father kept them around but hadn’t found the nerve to yet assuage his curiosity.

The Jägers continued to grumble as they all followed the Baron through the decks of the airship but veered off when they got to the hatch to keep out of sight. Barkley hurried over to the rest of their party, leaving Gil alone with his father.

His anxiety ratcheted up with every clank of the gangplank lowering into place. He’d been excited months ago when his father took him on as an apprentice–some new Empire program to ready the next generation of rulers–but this assignment was going to kill him. There was absolutely no way it ended well.

The Baron suddenly reached out, slapping Gil’s hand away from the button of his coat. Gil cradled the injured appendage to his chest, shooting his father a withering glare. "You could have just said,” he muttered.

“You will be on your best behavior and none of this moping.”

Gil’s glare intensified. “I’m not moping–I have genuine misgivings about this meeting, and you aren’t listening to me.”

He hadn’t meant to say all of that, but his boldness seemed to soften his father’s characteristic sharp edges. “I know you’re worried about seeing the young prince again, but time marches on, Gil.”

Time marches on? An electrifying anger built in Gil, filling his chest and spreading outward like lightning until the tips of his fingers and toes burned.

"That kind of betrayal isn’t something you just forget,” he spat through clenched teeth. How could he think Tarvek would ever be over it when Gil still hadn’t forgiven himself, and he wasn’t the one betrayed?

A hand clamped down tightly on his shoulder. “Control yourself,” his father commanded.

Gil seethed, eyes blazing, electricity crackling around him. Everywhere colors popped extra saturated and bright; sound returned more crisp and clear. Thoughts bounced around his head at supersonic speeds yet his brain didn’t struggle to keep up, and at the same time, reality seemed to slow down allowing for enhanced clarity. The increased harmonics of his voice finally registered, and he blinked, resetting the world around him.

He took a deep breath, letting it out in a shudder. “I’m sorry–I didn’t mean to.”

“The same passion that fuels the Spark often intensifies other emotions, and you must learn to restrain them lest they overwhelm your reason.”

If triggering his Spark was that easy, this trip just got a whole lot more complicated.

[PART 2]

[thehomierobbstark]

Killmonger Fic Idea

How would y’all feel about me writing a Erik x reader fic based on the song ‘When You’re Mad’ by Ne-Yo? I know it seems like there’s probably already been a hundred other fics based off the same concept but I feel like I could finesse a lil sum sum wit dis 😏😏

[charmercharm3r]

Serial Lover

HHJ

Masterlist

wc: 10.2k

Synopsis: A stripper who is a hopeless romantic and a bartender with a million and one failed relationships. What could go wrong?

warnings: smut, switch!hyunjin, switch!reader, unprotected sex (don't raw dog it guys srsly), alcohol consumption/drinking and driving (do NOT do), so much miscommunication even I got angry writing it, they're both just extremely stupid, I can't be bothered to proof read this pls excuse grammatical and spelling errors lol

Part 3 of my 8 part series based off the album, “It Was Good Until It Wasn’t” by Kehlani, where each member of Stray Kids will have a song dedicated to them and whatever toxic relationship I can come up with.

-

He hated the smell of fake leather, all too potent and unsavory for a material that was supposed to be seductive. His wardrobe was filled with it, Hyunjin couldn’t help that he loved the way he looked in it, accentuating his body in all the right places. Most of the costumes he wore were leather or latex, decorated with bits of red and silver chains to add some dramatic flare. As if he couldn’t look dramatic enough, the red ribbon that tied half of his black hair up was just the icing on the cake.

You loved watching his sets, the music was always the loudest with the numbers he chose. It helped that he brought in the biggest crowds no matter how dead the club was. Your partnership with Hyunjin was a two way street; you provide drinks strong enough to get customers to spend their money on him, not that they needed them– he was just that gorgeous, and Hyunjin convinces them to go back to the bar for more and tip you well. Though of course not as well as the tips he receives. No, that kind of treatment was reserved just for the dancers.

After every set, the first thing Hyunjin did was collect his cash and hide it away backstage, then make his way back to you on the other side of the counter. Today was no different, except he added something new to his stage. Red ribbon wrapped around his bare arms, tying off between his knuckles and ends flowing freely as his hands gracefully swayed, on a mission to reach the bar. You did your best not to stare, focusing all too hard on cleaning a crystal glass that was already spotless. Hyunjin slumped at his usual barstool in the center of the counter, leaning on his arm patiently for you to acknowledge him. You didn’t have to look at him to know he needed a drink. Setting the glass down, you get him his usual.

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his arms. The sleeveless leather crop top wasn’t new attire, but the red ribbon popped against his toned muscles so nicely it made your mouth water. It wasn’t like you to thirst over him. Working in a strip club allowed you to come in contact with so many beautiful people, especially the dancers, that you’d trained yourself to keep things professional.

However Hyunjin was new, eight months ago he had joined the club and people instantly fawned over him. It made sense, his proportions were insanely right and his face resembled that of a cat, making anyone that saw him in the neon lights swoon. What didn’t make sense was why he befriended you past that of work. Of course you were friends with the other dancers, but not in the way you were with him. He’d approached you first, asking for a jager and redbull, and charmed his way into your life.

You placed the drink down in front of him, to which he chugged immediately and set the glass back down right side up. “It’s only midnight, already rough?” you asked, taking the glass to refill. As you wandered towards the back of the bar to grab the alcohol, Hyunjin groaned and slammed his head onto the counter. The thud of his forehead on the wood made surrounding customers jump and stare. You poured the drink and placed it next to him. Grabbing a clean rag, you forced his head up and put it underneath him so he had something to lay on. “When I told you you had a hard head, I didn’t mean it was made of steel.” The comment made him laugh dryly into the towel.

“It looked stupid, didn’t it?” Hyunjin lifted his head and looked you dead in the eyes. When you cocked your head at him confused, he downed the second drink and asked again. “This! The ribbon! It looked dumb, right? God, I knew I should’ve just kept to the regular routine.” He pushed the upturned glass towards you again. “‘Nother jagerbomb. More jager, less bomb.”

You didn’t question him, sighing as you switched the ratio to his preference. “I thought you looked great. Sexy,” you said and slid the glass his way, resting on your forearms in front of him.

“You always say that,” Hyunjin chugged his third drink with ease.

“I always mean it.” He set the glass down with the rim to the counter, the two of you holding a staring contest. Even in the blue and purple glow, his features were on full display. Smokey eye makeup, plump pink lips, you could even see the little mole under his eye that added to the sultriness of his persona.

You don’t always flirt with him, your friendship didn’t start out that way. It wasn’t until recently had you taken a particular liking to him in a different way. You’d just gone out on another terrible date with a guy who’d come into the club on a slow night. He’d been charming and fun to talk to in the night time scene, so when he asked you out for lunch a few days later you were excited. Upon seeing him in the sunlight, you automatically got the ick. He wasn’t how you remembered him, maybe it was the change in atmosphere or the way the daylight made it look sickly and frail. You should’ve turned tail and ran as soon as you saw him, but the good angel on your shoulder made you stick it out. That was, until he puked all over your nice white shoes. He was actually ill with the stomach bug and failed to mention it, hoping it’d pass before your date. You’d never run from a man so fast in your life.

Obviously you’d told Hyunjin about this. His first reaction wasn’t to laugh at you for choosing to go out with the guy, but rather laugh at him for making a fool of himself in front of you. The two of you were sat on the couch in his apartment, which was astonishingly clean. Both of you were a few drinks in and slightly drunk, counting his night’s tips and figuring out how he was going to budget it. When he’d gotten tired of thinking, you told the story to ease his worries. “What a loser,” he said, holding his stomach and brushing his hair back with his hand. “You deserve better.”

You’d place the dollar bills into the counting machine and turned to him, “I do! Why don’t you ever stop me from going out with these terrible people?”

“‘Cause it’s not like you listen anyways,” he nudged your knee with his, jokingly. “Even I could treat you better and I don’t even date.”

“Really? Serial lover like yourself could treat me better? Won’t believe it ‘til I see it.” You weren’t serious at the time, in fact– you were sarcastic. But it was as if your words sparked something in him. From then on, you’d catch his eyes lingering a bit longer than usual, touches frequenting your arms and shoulders, making a habit of smelling your hair whenever he hugged you. He’d offer to do things for you that you didn’t realize you needed help doing, or bringing you little things he said reminded him of you. All the telltale signs of a crush. It’d taken you a bit to warm up to the idea that your coworker turned best friend had thought of you as more than that. Honestly, it scared you a bit, leading your relationship to how it is now.

“Stop looking at me like you want to eat me,” he shied away, looking at the upside down glass.

“Stop thinking about eating me and maybe I will,” you countered, smiling up at him devilishly when the flush crept onto his cheeks. Though he was sitting on the stool and you were standing, he still towered over you. “Seriously, I love the ribbon,” your words were sincere, hoping the seriousness of your tone helped him understand. Stealing the glass from under his hand, you poured one more drink.

“You’re trying to get me drunk.”

“I am. Drunk Hyunjin always listens to me better.”

More than anything, you were compensating with your hypersexuality to combat the feelings he made bubble inside of you. Hyunjin knew this, he knew you. Which is why he never pushed himself to admit that he had more than a crush. He wanted someone unattainable and so in love with the thrill, someone he knew could never be okay with a singular, overbearingly loving person. Someone like you would never work with someone like Hyunjin. 

But knowing this wasn’t the same as accepting it. So still, his heart wrenched at the doe eyes you made at him, for him. He knew exactly where you stood, you weren’t subtle in the flirting department especially since after the drunken mistake of telling him you wanted him to prove he’s better for you than anyone you could’ve dated. That’s where his dilemma lies. Hyunjin knows you love the chase, you love feeling wanted until all you receive is undying love and eventually become bored. All Hyunjin wanted to do was love you. You were a prize he wouldn’t let himself win.

On your end, you pushed the feelings down as much as possible. Somehow they always came back up as soon as he even so much as glanced in your direction. If someone had asked you what your dating life was like, you’d say pathetic, repetitive, maybe a little unhinged at times. It wasn’t like you were dating just for the sake of going on dates. You genuinely wanted to find something with someone whom you could love unconditionally and love you unconditionally back. You had. He was sitting in front of you, clad head to toe in back leather and latex and wore red ribbons in his hair. He loved your drinks, listened to you when you spoke– really listened, he tied your hair up when you had one too many drinks and helped you change clothes then tucked you into bed. Being with him was so domestic, it felt all too natural and scared the living shit out of you.

The raven haired man before you fiddled with the fabric between his knuckles. “I have one more set tonight. Will you watch?” he asked without looking at you, but taking a quick peek at the drink he’d internally battled about finishing.

“You know I will, angel. I’m your biggest fan. Remember?” Hyunjin shivered a bit at the nickname, he knew you really were his biggest fan. The feeling was mutual, that’s why he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to redirect the conversation, “my number one supporter and number one worst tipper.” With that he downed what would be his last drink on shift while keeping his eyes trained on your smiling lips, the liquid courage dripping down his throat all too casually. Bravery or stupidity, he didn’t know which it was that pushed him to drop the glass upside down again, this time brushing his hand over yours that rested on the counter while the other raised to tip your chin up, forcing you to look him directly in the eye. It was a quick moment, fleeting all too fast for either of you. Your eyes locked for the split second he had his fingertips on your face, shooting you a wink before whisking off backstage for an outfit change.

His touch left your skin burning even though the air conditioning was on full blast behind the bar. You watched him walk away, longing for the confirmation you needed just to know that he wasn’t playing with your mind. Letting out a breath you didn’t realize you held in, you let your head fall onto the towel that he was using and cursed Hwang Hyunjin for making you feel like this.

Hyunjin strode into the employee lounge of the club, throwing himself onto the first soft surface he could find. That happened to be the love seat, already preoccupied by another dancer named Felix. Hyunjin’s usual attire consisted of blacks and reds, versus Felix who opted for bubblegum pink, his signature color. The two of them next to each other looked almost comical as Hyunjin dangled his legs over the arm of the seat and rested his head in Felix’s lap. “You smell good,” Hyunjin mumbled at his friend, closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax.

“You’re so obvious,” Felix laughed at him, poking Hyunjin’s cheek. “You can’t go five minutes without talking to her.”

“I. Am. Dealing.” Hyunjin waved his hand to try and be nonchalant. It didn’t work.

“Dealing so, so terribly, my young and in love friend.” He knew the bubblegum boy was right. He didn’t try to hide it, the small stunt at the bar proved it. If anything, he was holding himself back. Maybe it was the alcohol talking. Maybe he was just over the game. Maybe he’s decided to get his answer tonight. “Lix?” His friend responded with a hum. “Do you have any white costumes I could borrow?”

The club wasn’t bustling with people, you didn’t expect it to be on a Thursday night. Jisung, another one of the club’s performers, was on stage at the moment. He was a feisty little thing on the pole, you had to admit. His stage outfit was electric colors, mainly blues and greens that complimented the lighting. Jisung liked to use big movements, strong ones that gave a wow factor instead of being continuously pleasing to the eye. It was engaging, tonight’s set in particular, you didn’t want to look away. By now, you were used to seeing the performer’s routines, however it seemed like everyone was trying something new tonight.

Hyunjin watched you from the staging area, fiddling mindlessly with the hem of his newly loaned outfit. He wouldn’t have noticed Felix standing behind him if he didn’t reach out to tighten the back drawstring of the top, “stop staring.”

“I’m not staring,” Hyunjin didn’t look away from you as he said this.

“You’re staring and being a creep.” His friend pulled hard on the strings, forcing Hyunjin to suck in a gasp. “If she doesn’t fall for you in this outfit, I think it’s time to give it up.”

The raven haired man didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not reciprocating his feelings, knowing fully well that you do. Still, it hurts a bit to imagine. He watched you as your eyes followed Jisung around the stage in a trance, though not glazed over like how you look at him. It was more like you were fascinated and intrigued. Hyunjin wasn’t oblivious to the conditions of your work, you were bound to find people attractive. The key word here; you. You found people attractive while he looked for you like a weed growing from the highway on its search for the sun. If Hyunjin had a dollar for every time his eyes searched for you in this damned club, he’d be rich– this coming from a stripper.

Felix pat his friend on the back, letting him get into his headspace for performing. Hyunjin was always a talented dancer, he knew that ever since he got the role in his middle school’s play that he was sick while being forced to audition for. It wasn’t his plan to become a stripper, however life is unexpected and he found himself in love with the freedom of it. He choreographed his own routines, dressed in a way that made him feel powerful, made a lot more money than he could have possibly done performing anywhere else. The club was his oyster, or whatever.

Shaking out his limbs and cracking his knuckles, Hyunjin strode out onto the stage, picking up his feet and exaggerating the movement of his hips. It’s definitely the alcohol, he thought as his eyes searched for you behind the bar. He watched your jaw go slack and eyes become increasingly wide, raking up and down his body.

You thought he was hot in all black, but in all white he looked simply delectable. He wasn’t wrong earlier when you continuously handed him his drink, you really did want to devour him. Only now there was an innocence that lingered in his steps towards the center pole, his face contrasting so darkly that you knew he was doing this on purpose. He wanted you to know this was for you. Hyunjin’s top was that of a latex corset. The bust area was flat against his chest but still curved to drip down his chest plate, the straps that were supposed to hold it up essentially useless. The hem of it was pointed, the tip of it just barely covering his belly button. When he turned around you could see the back was held together with ribbon, his red ribbon. Your mouth watered at the thought of being able to take it off and tie his hands together with it.

You forced yourself to blink away the thoughts as he made his descent along the silver pole. Has his ass always looked that good? Perhaps it was the tight cut out pants that showed his upper thighs, his knees, and mid calves, only attached by more red ribbon laced through it. It took a lot of strength to bring your eyes to his face again, only to find Hyunjin already looking at you with a shit eating grin. His feline eyes narrowed as the gaze held, only breaking when he spun around the pole and lifted himself up. You weren’t paying attention to the routine, even though the way his body rolled and twisted itself around the metal made your legs weak, your mind was elsewhere. Hyunjin didn’t pay any attention to you during his sets, but now with this outfit change and his stare not on anyone but you… he gave you his answer.

Even as he smoothly took the dollar bills from customers, placing it seductively into the bust of the top or the waistline of his pants, he never took more than a couple seconds to face you again. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to scream in his face for teasing you and taking his goddamn time confessing his feelings, or if you just wanted to tie him up and make him yours.

Hyunjin contorted his body around the pole in such a manner that you were sure he was going to break in half. Why let a stupid pole fold him when it could be done by you? The thoughts of him being a crying mess below you had you reaching for the liquor, as one usually does when their crush is playing hard to get. Except he wasn’t, he wasn’t hard to get at all. Hyunjin was right in front of you every second of every day and still, he’s so far away.

His set ended all too soon. You suddenly remembered that you were at work and tended to the patrons who were grabbing their fix between numbers. Hyunjin eyed you making yourself busy to avoid him, but he knew your schedule better than you did. When he was off, you were off. There was no stopping the tsunami of words he wanted to say to you.

Except one thing. The guy had come back, the guy from your latest crappy date. He was sitting in Hyunjin’s seat and making large gestures with his hands while you cocked your head at him. Hyunjin couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he saw your eyes roll before you went to turn away. But the man reached over the counter and grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcefully pulling you back.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, Hyunjin isn’t a violent person in the slightest. But when his fist made contact with the man’s face, he realized there was a first time for everything. 

The man let go of your hair and stumbled back, holding the side of his cheek. His attention went from you to Hyunjin, lunging forward at the man clad in white in retaliation. Before he could reach him though, the bouncer finally showed up, grabbing the drunken man in a bear hug and throwing him outside. 

You rubbed the back of your head where the man had grabbed, unable to process what just happened. The bartender who was supposed to be finishing the shift came to your aid, handing you an ice pack and saying for you to go home. However, through the chaos that jumbled your mind, you found Hyunjin standing on the opposite side of the bar, heavenly looking as always as he came in close. Even though the counter separated your bodies, it didn’t stop him from leaning over to cup your face. His mouth was moving, but none of his words registered. All you could see was the worry in his eyes as his thumbs rubbed the tops of your cheekbones. Unconsciously, you leaned into his touch, letting your head fall into his hands.

His warmth was ripped from you again all too soon, the other bartender ushered you back towards the employee lounge. They sat you down on the love seat and let you decompress. Hyunjin shooed everyone else that bustled around you away until it was just you, him, and a couple other dancers who had no idea what was happening. He knelt onto the carpet before you, running his hands along your legs, arms, or wherever else he could touch to make sure you weren’t hurt anywhere else. His hands eventually made its way up to your face again, this time able to be uninterrupted. “You just attract shitty men like flies, don’t you?” Hyunjin said softly, cradling your cheek with the hand that punched the man.

“I attracted you.” He was sure it was the adrenaline talking for you. It was definitely the comfort of a familiar person making you take his hand from your face and interlock fingers. It was absolutely because he just saved you that you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes. Hyunjin was one hundred percent positive you weren’t in love with him the way he was in love with you.

“Take me home.” It wasn’t a question, you were telling him. Hyunjin nodded, standing quickly and running to grab his and your stuff from the lockers. Throwing his jacket on and draping yours across your shoulders, you reached for his hand again. You did it so effortlessly, it was like second nature to hold onto him. You didn’t look at him as you slipped your fingers between his, but he could feel the slight tremble in them as he guided you out the backdoor. You handed him the keys to your car, letting him open the door for you and sit down. Hyunjin didn’t close the door, instead he leaned in and grabbed the seatbelt, hovering over you as he fastened you safely. For good measure, he pulled the strap until it stopped and let it click to lock in place.

As he walked around the front of your car and slipped into the driver’s seat, you asked yourself why he couldn’t understand. To reiterate, why wouldn’t he let himself understand? Why wouldn’t he let you love him and let himself love you? Why was he always keeping you at arms length when they were still wide open for you to fall into? Why was he holding back? The grip that guy had on your hair must’ve knocked some sense into you because you were starting to think maybe it wasn’t Hyunjin keeping something from blooming between the two of you.

Neither of you spoke as Hyunjin drove to your apartment. He thought over and over about how we were to explain why he punched that man for you, almost took a beating for you. Once he got into your apartment, he knew there was no going back. 

You saw your building come into view, confused. “Why are we here? I said to take me home.”

“Has this not been your apartment for the last eight months?” Hyunjin responded, confused. He glanced your way, seeing if he misread what you were saying. Clearly he did. “I meant with you.” His heart skipped a couple beats as you stared into his soul with the eyes he thought could move the moon if they pleased. You stole his right hand from the steering wheel and placed it in your lap, cupping it with your own. He’d never driven home so fast in his life. 

He parked and opened the car door for you again. This time, you led him up the stairs and down the hall hand in hand. As you trailed in front of him, he looked at how small your hands were compared to his, how they tightened their grip every time you felt him loosen ever so slightly. Hyunjin smiled to himself, he didn’t realize you were already at his front door. You moved to the side to let him unlock it with one hand, keeping the other close to your body. He pushed it open for you to enter, not letting him go as you both kicked off your shoes and made your way to his bedroom.

You knew it all too well, though never going further than innocent cuddles. Once inside, he closed the door behind him, watching as you shrugged your jacket off and sat on the edge of his bed. He did the same, but stayed close along the wall. Hyunjin had forgotten he was wearing the white stage outfit, suddenly feeling so revealing in the bedroom light. “I think you have something to say to me, Jinnie.”

The abrasiveness of the question brought out his own attitude, “shouldn’t you be thanking me first?” He found the dresser closest to the wall, leaning so his legs don’t give out under your stare.

You smiled, knowing he was half right. “Thank you.” The air could be cut with a knife because of how thick the tension was. “We’re both really bad at this,” you fake laughed, finding your fingers suddenly interesting.

“I can’t be bad at something I don’t do,” Hyunjin’s tone was a bit colder, realizing why you said you wanted to come over. For some reason your heart wimped at his words.

“So what, then? You’re gonna keep pretending you don’t have a crush on me?” His body froze on the spot, never thinking he’d hear his feelings being said out loud. It was something of a wakeup call. Hyunjin couldn’t bear to look at you anymore, you’d foiled his plans of ignoring the feelings until they went away. “You’re torturing me, y’know.”

“You’re one to talk about torture, Y/N,” he scoffed, unmoving. You tilted your head at him, confused. Hyunjin let out a breathy, mocking laugh. “You’re not so innocent either. How long have you known how I felt about you? And you still play into it like you know I’ll give it to you no matter what.”

“You think I’m playing with you? I flirt with you so obviously the entire club knows!” You stood from the bed, running a hand through your hair. “Are you blind? Or are you intentionally ignoring every move I make?”

Hyunjin gulped, knowing he was cornered. He recalled the reasons why he couldn’t accept your love– the fun of the chase, your freedom, his bursting heart being too much for you to handle. “I can’t be yours,” he finally said, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“And why not?” Anger began to boil in your blood, he was purposefully avoiding your interrogation. The room started to get hot and stuffy, but that was probably just both of you getting worked up. You stared at him in anticipation for his answer, but Hyunjin couldn’t get the words out. He didn’t know how to tell you that he didn’t believe you could change your ways, despite how much he wished you could. You were impatient, and frankly, tired of waiting for him. “Fine. That’s fine. I’ll tell you exactly how I feel.

“You’re so goddamn pessimistic. For a hopeless romantic, nothing I do is ever good enough for you! I practically throw myself at you– let everyone know I’m so head over fucking heels for you and I get fuck all back!” Hyunjin opened his mouth to defend himself, but you cut him off. “NO! You let me finish,” he sealed his lips in a fake zipping motion. “I put myself out there because of you– for you because I know you won’t do it yourself. I know how scared you are of falling in love and realizing that it might not be real. But fuck– stop making me out to be the bad guy for just trying to show you what could be if you’d just fucking let me.” Heat stung at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill any second. You sniffled, blinking excessively to hold back the dam in your lash line.

Hyunjin’s ears were ruby red, he knew on some level you were right. It didn’t mean he was wrong, though. “Are you done?” he asked, though not in an antagonizing manner. You nodded, hugging your arms across your chest. “I can’t be yours because you’ll never be mine. You want something so completely different than I do, we aren’t even in the same fucking realm anymore. I don’t want someone who will run away because I love them, who won’t get tired of me giving them my all.” Hyunjin pushed himself off of the dresser and took two steps to close the distance between you, his breath fanning across your lips. “I’m a hopeless romantic, fine. But you’re the serial lover, not me.” He threw your past words in your face like it was an insult. And honestly, it hurt coming from him.

The tears flowed freely now, you didn’t bother trying to wipe them away. You wanted him to see every part of you, never feeling the need to hide from him. Especially not now. “Well fuck me for trying then, right?” The puffiness of your eyes made it hard to blink. Grabbing your jacket off the floor, you gave him one last tear filled look before walking away.

Your exit was cut short. The jacket was ripped from your hand as soon as you reached for the door knob. Turning, Hyunjin was already standing directly behind you with tears of his own. The proximity of his face in front of yours made you stumble back into the door, his arms caging you in as they placed on either side of your head. “Why do you get to walk away again? Why don’t you get to be the bad guy? Why you so fucking irritating? Yet all I can think about doing is ripping your clothes off,” he words came out much quicker and agitated than he planned, not even catching himself saying the last sentence until he watched your eyes dart back and forth between his own and his lips.

“Is that what you want?” Your voice was low, suggestive as Hyunjin’s tongue licked his lower lip. He nodded hesitantly. Reaching to swipe a lingering tear from his cheek, he found his body overheating at the light gesture. You’d hardly touched him and he was already crumbling beneath you. Hyunjin felt his chest tighten as you rubbed your thumb into his cheek. Just as he was going to relax into your hand, your fingertips pinched his skin. He let out a small yelp and you shoved him away. “I don’t like you playing with me like this, Hwang Hyunjin. You sort your shit out before talking about wanting to me to fuck you. Maybe next time, I’ll actually do it.” Stealing your jacket off the ground before he could protest, you left.

Hyunjin didn’t know what to do. He stood in the middle of his bedroom with his hand stupidly rubbing over where you’d pinched him and dumbfounded look. Even without you directly in front of him, your words were enough to keep him flustered for the rest of the night. 

It was radio silence from you, not a single call or text from your end of the phone. This confused Hyunjin more than he already was. You closed the door in his face, but not all the way. Your offer still stood, the words replaying in his mind over and over for the next two days until you were expected to be back at the bar. He’d contemplated showing up at your doorstep and asking for your forgiveness, but remembered he had nothing to be sorry for. In his mind, he was in the right for standing his ground and telling you no. But he also remembered how he shot himself in the foot by saying he wanted to fuck you in the same sentence as him trying to prove a point.

There was something else you implied before you stormed out that kept him up at night. You fuck him? He couldn’t recall if he’d heard you right. Part of him wishes he had.

Hyunjin had just finished his first stage of the night before you were supposed to clock in. If you were still up to your old antics, he knew you’d gotten there early to watch him. His suspicions were correct, spotting you leaning against the wall near the entrance of the club, eyes trained completely on him. Your face was expressionless with your arms loose at your side, one holding onto the strap of your bag. Through the dim and color bending lights, he saw you raise one eyebrow at him, smirking in an unamused way and walking towards the back lounge. Hyunjin did his best not to seem frantic as he made his way off the stage in search of you.

He tried and failed miserably.

Hyunjin practically fell through the lounge door, knocking it harshly against the wall with a bang. It made you jump as you shoved your bag into your usual locker next to his. Looking over your shoulder and seeing it was him, body glistening with sweat in all its glory, you turned your back to him again. Ignoring his name being called by Felix and some questions from the other dancers, he strode up to the backside of your locker and shut it closed while you were still rummaging. “Hey! What the fuck?!” you shouted at him.

No words came out of his mouth as you looked up at him annoyed. Hyunjin hoped you could see the desperation and longing in his eyes. Judging by the way your face softened as you made eye contact, you did. You let out a deep breath, pushing his hand off your locker and opening it again. “Not now, Jinnie. Save it for after we’re out of here.” The nickname should’ve made him relax a bit, but the thought of you meeting with him after work had him tensed all over.

“You’ll come over later?” was all he could get out.

“Have you done what I said?” Hyunjin was all too eager to nod. “Then yeah, I’ll come over.” Grabbing your bar keys, you closed the locker again. “Hyunjin?” You called his name so beautifully, even if it was laced with a bit of anger. “Hm?”

You took a step closer to him, getting in close to whisper in his ear, “talk to me at all today without me speaking to you first, pull any stunts like you did last time, or mention to anyone what happened, I’ll make sure you’re really crying when we get home.” His stomach almost dropped out of his ass as your breath warmed the skin along his neck, raising goosebumps. He didn’t respond, you didn’t count his whimper. “Speak.”

“Yes,” it came out as more of a plea than an answer. Pulling back from him, you looked up to meet his gaze, mischievous and provocative. Tilting your head at him innocently, you brushed a strand of hair that was matted to his sweaty forehead back, running your fingertips along the side of his face with a feather light touch. Hyunjin resisted the urge to fold to his knees. It was going to be a long shift.

Dancing wasn’t the same, but not in a bad way. Hyunjin found himself dancing with a newfound purpose, no longer simply because he liked it. Now, he danced to impress. Specifically, to impress the bartender that smiled at him as if he were a meal and she was the devil of gluttony, waiting to feast. It didn’t go unnoticed by you, the way Hyunjin’s black latex-covered hips swirled dramatically slower, delicate hands wrapping all the more sensually around the pole. You let it slide, loving how you knew he was doing it for you. It was his last set, which meant you were almost off work as well. The clock at the back of the bar read 2:30 a.m., you were both going to need a bit of liquid luck if he came to the conclusion you were hoping for.

The music ended, queuing for Hyunjin to exit the stage. He did as he always does, stash his well earned cash in his locker and make his way back to you. Sitting in his seat, you poured him his drink wordlessly, another empty glass sitting next to it. He smiled when he noticed you adding his same drink into the glass. You slid the drink towards him, taking your own into your hand and raising it, “bottoms up, baby.” You winced at the alcohol, questioning how Hyunjin could possibly take these one after another. Jager had to be one of your least favorite liquors, vodka being at the top of the list. You and vodka had an unspoken rivalry, something Hyunjin always made fun of you for, but not today.

He followed suit, downing the drink and putting it right side up. Hyunjin held onto it as you poured another for both of you. You both had three servings of the drink before calling it a night. You’d filled in the next bartender in on everyone’s tabs and other information, taking your time as Hyunjin waited impatiently at the end of the bar for you. Standing in the middle of the club, still in his stage outfit that stood out incredibly more amongst patrons, made him feel exposed. You watched him squirm, covering his bare arms with his hands and looking around aimlessly. Letting out a small laugh, you thought he had been waiting long enough, patting your coworker on the shoulder and finding Hyunjin. He didn’t notice you until you grabbed one of his cold hands, pulling him along with you to the back lounge.

The lounge was empty, thankfully the hecticness of the weekend had everyone out on the floor. You didn’t stop walking until you reached the lockers, dropping his hand to grab your stuff. He did the same, you finished before him and shut your cubby. As soon as Hyunjin closed his locker and turned around, you pushed his exposed chest back abruptly and held him there pinned. A wicked smile plastered over your face, you held up your car keys, “you’re driving.”

It felt like deja vu, him driving home from work with you in the passenger seat. Only now, there was a completely different energy in the small space. You weren’t the damsel in distress he’d saved a couple of nights ago, he wasn’t in control of himself anymore, and he had no idea what the hell you were going to do to him when you got him alone. Whatever it is you had planned, he couldn’t wait to see.

Before he knew it, Hyunjin was opening the door to his apartment and letting you inside. Shoes kicked aside and bags dropped at the doorway, you pulled him into his bedroom again. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, awaiting your instructions at the doorway of the room. He watched your back as you faced his bed, slowly stripping your jacket. Hyunjin licked his lips, suddenly noticing your outfit in the normal light. To say you were the best dressed bartender he’d ever seen was an understatement.

Black high waisted shorts hardly covered your smooth legs, a black blouse tucked into them. The rouched ends of the puffer sleeves made your arms look long and elegant. Still not facing him, you unclipped the claw that held your hair up, letting it fall free. Oh how Hyunjin wanted to smell your hair, knowing it’d be what heaven smells like. You finally turned around, running a hand through your mane and tousseling it effortlessly. Your scent wafted over him, damning the air conditioning for pushing it his way. “I know I’ve been… ignoring… you all night. But all jokes aside, we need to have a talk,” you voiced, breaking Hyunjin from his trance.

Nodding, he gulped and gestured for you to sit on the bed. You sat face to face, your legs to the side of your body as Hyunjin mirrored your position. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to,” you started, looking him dead in the face. “But that also means I’m not going to force you to say what I wish you would,” although he nodded, Hyunjin wasn’t quite sure what you were trying to say. You picked up on this, “I mean I’m not going to fuck you if you don’t feel the same, but I’m also not going to pressure you into saying you do. So really, it’s your choice, Jinnie. Just don’t do anything out of pity. I don’t need that.” Something he always loved about you was how straightforward you were, it was a quality he wished he possessed.

He stayed quiet, contemplating his next move. Hyunjin knew that if he let himself feel everything he’d been burying inside, he’s risking his heart. However, there was a part of him that wanted the risk, wanted to take the chance on you because he’s only ever imagined that you wouldn’t walk away from him the way you so easily do all of the other love interests you’d sped through. Maybe it was his savior complex, hoping that he could tame the wild beast inside of you that kept your habits so cold. His intentions were pure, but he was completely unsure of yours.

“You need to tell me what you’re thinking. I’m not a mind reader,” your voice softened, eyes crinkling at the corners to ease the tension.

“You scare me to death,” he blurted without thinking. Your expression didn’t change, the silence egging him to continue. “I’ve known I wanted you since the second I saw you. I’ve never wanted someone so badly in my life.” The knife in your heart placed there from the last time you were in his bedroom twisted. “But I know that when you leave me, it’ll ruin me.” He pulled the knife out, leaving you to bleed.

The consequences of your actions were catching up now, apparently it was bad karma to have one too many failed relationships. You had confessed to the one person you couldn’t live without and he was avoiding you like the plague because he was terrified of rejection. All of the feelings that he stirred inside of you couldn’t have been put into words, you had no way of easing the fear that you instilled in him. 

With your heart in your hands, beaten and bloody just for him, you said softly, “how do I show you that it’s always been you?”

Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself from crashing his lips onto yours, the weight of your words heavy enough to tip him over the brink of insanity. It caught you off guard for a second, the lips you’ve fantasized about finally being pressed against you. Noticing your hesitation, Hyunjin pulled away, looking for any signs of regret in your face. His mouth dropped in embarrassment, “I– I’m sorry. I don’t–”

“Shut up for a second. I’m trying to see something,” you pulled him by the straps of his latex harness, connecting your lips again, this time moving against him in an act of passion. It was a sensual, closed mouthed kiss at first, as seconds passed it became heated. Your tongue swiped along his lower lip, asking for entrance that was granted a second later. From his top, your hands traced against the bare skin of his shoulders, up his neck and into his long hair, tugging him impossibly closer. Hyunjin let himself fall into the kiss, bracing himself with one hand on your thigh and the other cupping your jaw. If you could pay attention to it, you’d feel his fingertips brushing up to reach the hem of your shorts, pulling you into him by the hips. Bodies pressed together in a breathless mess, lips slick with mixed saliva, you were engulfed in his scent.

Hyunjin couldn’t stop his hands from feeling every piece of your exposed skin he could get his hands on, kneading at the flesh with want. Before you could completely lose yourself in him, you broke the kiss, out of breath. “Hyun, tell me you want this,” the words came out as best as you could manage. He nodded, leaning in to catch your lips again but you held him back. “I’m serious. I’m here to stay. For good, if you’ll have me. I need to know you are too.”

“I am… I am,” Hyunjin paused, looking into your eyes that showed no indication of regret. “Please, just… love me.” You didn’t need anything else, shoving him back into the bed by his shoulders and throwing a leg over him to straddle. You didn’t need to look down to see him strain against his pants as he reached up to pull your face in for another kiss. Sitting down fully on top of him, you let him control the pace of the kiss while your hands worked the back side zipper of his stage top. You grind your hips into his just the littlest bit, earning a muffled moan into your mouth. Hyunjin tried not to hold too tightly onto your neck as he instinctively bucked up into you. His mouth ravaged yours, his tongue attempting to win dominance. The bulge in his pants desperately rutting up against you was an indication of who was really in charge. Pulling away, his lips chased as you reached to stroke the top of his hair, tucking it behind his ear. “Slowly, angel. We have all the time in the world.” Hyunjin let out a deep sigh, nodding and licking his lips.

He looked up at you from beneath as if you had carved his name into the moon, marking it as his. Your smile down at him was just as sweet as it was sinful as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. “Can I take this off?” You pulled at the undone zipper of his top. Hyunjin didn’t hesitate to sit up in order to slip his head out of it, tossing somewhere he’d have to find later. You did the same, unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts so you could whip your blouse off with ease. His lips automatically connected with the skin of your stomach, kissing third degree burns as he made his way up, teeth nibbling at the hem of your bra. Your own hands raked lightly along the sides of his upper body to sling up and over his shoulders to pull him in closer.

The heat of your bodies together was starting to become unbearable, what minimal clothes you both wore being far too suffocating. The red ribbon in his hair was still tied in a neat bow until your fingers nimbly pulled at the string, letting it fall loose to frame his beautiful face. Practically plying his mouth from your collar bone, you pushed Hyunjin onto his back again to sit up tall and unclasp your bra. His mouth hung in awe as you freed yourself, almost succeeding in sitting up to lock his lips around your nipple. You held him down by the neck, applying the slightest pressure to hold him still.

He let out a short whimper, catching himself before you could hear anymore. “Who knew angel had a thing for choking,” you teased, adding more weight to his throat and bending over to kiss his chest. Your fingertips traced down the line of his abs as you nibbled gently on his pectoral. Pressing your hips harder onto him earned you another moan, this time louder. “Y/N please,” he pleaded through the grip on his windpipe.

“Please what? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” you detached your lips from his skin to kiss up the column of his neck, freeing it from your grasp.

“Touch me,” his hands locked your hips in place as he rubbed against your clothed core, hoping for any sort of friction. You let him have his fun, enjoying the neediness that forced his crotch to continuously rise in search for yours. “Look at you,” you said just above a whisper, gently biting on his ear lobe. Hyunjin’s grip on your hips were sure to leave a bruise, not that you minded. “Trying to use me to get yourself off, hm? Like the little bitch in heat you are, isn’t that right angel?” The sultriness of your degrading words only made him grip you tighter and groan, pulling your body flush against his as he continued to hump you through the latex of his pants.

“N-not enough,” he begged, burying his face between your breasts. Unwrapping his arms, you reached down to work the confines of his pants, wiggling them off of him then releasing yourself from your shorts. Both of you only in your underwear, he rutted against you again, the heat from your core urging his primal instincts to the surface. “Cum like this, like the slut you are and you can have me however you want.” You meant it in more ways than one.

The thought of him being so desperate, so in need of you lit a fire in your gut. Hyunjin should’ve been more humiliated, attempting to fuck into you through the fabric that separated the part of him he so insanely needed you to touch. You were just the same, pushing your hips back and forth over him to rub your clit in all the right ways. The strangeness of the soft, yet incredibly rock hard feeling between your legs was enough to make you light headed in pleasure. 

He was overtaken by lust, not satisfied with the pace you were going. Hyunjin grabbed the underside of your thigh and flipped you onto your back, the abrupt movement making you yelp. He let out what could only be described as a deep growl, forcing his hands underneath your knees to hold your legs up and give him full access to your clothes pussy. The dark patch in the middle of your pink panties continued to spread, fueling his desire even more. 

You let out a shaky breath, waiting for him to move. Your hips twitched up, breaking him from his trance on your cunt to dive back into your neck and wrap your legs around his torso. His hips moved at a speed much faster than yours, pushing his cock into the fabric of his boxers incredibly hard, you were sure it was borderline painful. You let your head fall back onto the bed as he sucked at your neck, containing his moans while you couldn’t help but voice yours. “You can do it, angel. Cum for me.”

Hyunjin had never been able to release on command until now, the seduction in your tone and his need to please you overtaking his senses as he spilled into his boxers. He let out a long groan, ceasing his attack on your neck as his body shivered. You raked your hands through his hair and up and down his back, calming him through his first high. The warmth from his cum made your pussy tremble against his softening cock, to which he felt as well.

He caught his breath, regaining enough strength to push onto his forearms and look into your eyes. As fucked out as he was, he was still so beautiful. “So good for me, angel,” you stroked his flustered cheek. Fingertips found his chin, then his lips and softly thumbing it. “Use me,” you whispered. 

A light switch flipped in him. His dick sprang back to life at almost complete solidity again at your permission. Sucking in a deep breath, he kissed your lips with a roughness not present before. He bit your lip harshly, getting you to moan. Leaving your mouth to bite down the center of your chest, Hyunjin slipped his hand down to cup your aching cunt, fingertips rubbing too lightly over the wet spot he was so fixated on earlier. His focus was split between nibbling on your breasts and pushing your underwear to the side, too impatient to take it off completely.

Deciding on which of your body parts to ravish, Hyunjin caught your nipple between his teeth and gave it a hard pull before flattening his tongue against it soothingly. Still, his fingers didn’t stop toying with your underwear, alternating between pulling it and sliding between your folds. You couldn’t help your back arching into his touch, entirely too caught up in the feeling of him to realize he was pulling your underwear down.

He would never tell you this, but he had a thing for panties. After seeing your pretty little pink ones soaked in your arousal, smelling like you, he couldn’t help but toss it towards his hamper in the closet, hopefully disappearing from your vision so you’d forget about it. Never in his right mind did he expect to steal a pair of yours, let alone ones that were filthy with your essence and freshly stripped from your body. That was another fantasy for later.

One last bite to your chest, Hyunjin kissed his way further down to meet your cunt at eye level. It was sopping wet, waiting to be devoured. Self restraint gone, he threw your legs over his shoulders and dove in, licking a fat stripe up your center. Another loud moan ripped from you, encouraging him to grab hold of the tops of your thighs and sit up so that you were practically folded in half. 

He didn’t stop his attack on your cunt, sucking and licking and occasionally nipping at your clit. The immense pleasure forced your eyes shut, mouth dropping into an ‘O’ shape and crying out for him, “shit, angel. Just like that– fuck,” you got particularly loud when he dipped his tongue into your entrance, rubbing his nose against the swollen bud. Hearing you out of breath and loud for him, Hyunjin felt his cock throbbing again. He couldn’t help himself anymore, he wasn’t sure when he found the time to free himself of his soiled underwear. A few more licks at your cunt and he pulled away, despite your whining.

He stood fully onto his knees then fell back onto his heels, adjusting you so your ass rested on his thighs and he could still fully see your soaking cunt. Holding onto your thigh with one hand, he used the other to line himself up with your pussy. He pushed in with almost no resistance, still, the warmth of your heat wrapping around his cock was sinfully delicious. You weren’t immune to the pleasure, the split had your eyes rolling back as he bottomed out and let you adjust to his size. It took all the effort he had left not to buck into you before you were ready, but the clench of your pussy made it incredibly difficult. “Move baby,” you called out, voice broken and forehead sheer with sweat.

Starting off with slow rocks, Hyunjin pushed down the bubbling feeling in his lower stomach, opting to move one of his large hands to thumb your clit while simultaneously pushing below your gut to distract himself. This made your brain go fuzzy with pleasure, curling your toes at the feeling of every vein of his cock. Though it didn’t take Hyunjin long to get lost in the warmth you surrounded him in, thumb stuttering to a stop and palm digging into your lower stomach even more. He felt around for himself in your gut, feeling the tip of his cock inside of you with every thrust. It made your body feel as though thousands of volts of electricity hit every one of your nerve endings whenever he hit your sweet spot. It was like he was playing with it, judging by the way he kneaded the skin on the surface. 

There was no stopping the way he hammered into you, using you to get himself off for a second time. You loved every moment of it. He was finally putting himself first, granted you gave him the power to do it. You loved making him feel as though he was in control when in reality, he was the gun and you were the bullets.

Your body went weak under him, letting him hold you up by the hips as he guided you back and forth on his cock at a bone breaking pace. The spasming of your walls were getting stronger, becoming more frequent as Hyunjin found your clit again and started drawing figure eights into it. His eyes went back and forth between your boobs bouncing and where your bodies connected, settling to see the ring of cream that formed at the base of his dick. Needing something to hold on to, you reached for his hand that was doing its best to hold your hips in the air. 

You were oh so close to your climax, Hyunjin could feel it as well. His hips began to get messy with its thrusts, resorting to short and hard ones that repeatedly hit your g-spot. That combined with the stimulation on your clit, you were on the absolute brink. “Give it to me. Let me feel you,” Hyunjin moaned out. His words were all it took for the pleasure to overfill your body, tipping you into a toe curling wave of ecstasy and releasing a cry from your gut. He felt your pussy flutter rapidly around his cock, but it was the way your back arched and your hand, so tiny compared to his, reached out to grab and intertwine with his fingers that shoved him into his second high. Your pussy milked him for all he had left, tightening the hold on your hand and dropping your hips to hunch over you, shuddering in pleasure.

Hyunjin’s head rested between the valley of your breasts, needing to compose himself. You didn’t rush him, pulling him closer by dragging your nails lightly along his scalp. He didn’t want to move, too in love with the feeling of your skin on his and the comfort of his softening cock still inside of you. But the overwhelming need to pee flushed over you, having to break his post-nut tranquility early by gently tapping the top of his head. He– reluctantly– let you go, pulling out and watching the way his cum slowly dripped down your abused cunt. You laughed at the way his eyes were solely trained on the fluid leaking out of you. In a way, it was endearing, strangely so. Still, you needed to get up. In order to not leak onto the bed, Hyunjin scooped what he could with his fingers. The response was automatic, you opened your mouth for him to let you lick his cum from his digits, swallowing. The sight almost had the blood rushing to his cock, but the lack of strength left in his body prohibited it.

You were quick to use the bathroom, wiping away anything left over and flushing the toilet. When you returned to the bedroom, Hyunjin had a large shirt laid over the mattress, presumably for you seeing as he was already beneath the sheets. Although he was on his back not facing you, he heard your footsteps and held open his arms for you to join him. 

That same feeling from before coursed through you, domesticity. His bed felt like home as you wiggled your way beside him. Long arms encompassed you, the stress of the day finally catching up. You let out a deep, content sigh, listening to the sound of Hyunjin’s heartbeat.

He couldn’t tell for sure if you’d fallen asleep yet, but he thought if he didn’t act now, he wasn’t sure when he’d have the courage to say it again. “I love you,” he said. You’d heard it, clear as day and felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. You didn’t respond, shutting your eyes and hoping to wake in the morning with a mind that wasn’t racing a million miles and hour.

-

A/N: im so excited for this one!! I wrote this faster than I wrote the first two parts cus of the love F&MU got, it really motivated me to get this done before my trip. That being said I'm not sure how much time I'll have for writing while I'm gone, hopefully I can get some of part 4 done. I'm still deciding who I want to do hehehehe I have a few ideas.

As usual, feedback is always appreciated whether it be constructive, random thoughts, or just wanted to talk about the plot!!

-momo < 3

[thebestpersonherelovesbucky]

Hangover Well Worth It

Summary: Bucky wakes with the worst hangover of his life. All he wants is some breakfast. When he gets to the kitchen for some, he has a slight problem. He’s in the wrong apartment. 

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Alcohol mention, hangovers, embarrassment, fluff

written for @captain-rogers-beard​‘s  Flex Your Writing Muscles Challenge.

Prompt: Hangover

Bucky wakes with a groan in the back of his throat and a sandpaper tongue and a person inside his head that has the nerve to jackhammer against his skull. It takes Herculean effort just to get his eyes opened and when he does, he just shuts them again. Too bright. Much too bright. 

Ugh, why he let Natasha convince him to do shots of Jager is beyond him, but he’s certainly paying for it now. Thank god he doesn’t have work today. No way could he drag himself all the way to Stark Industry-NYC and do any sort of advertisement.  

All Bucky plans on doing today is eating breakfast--if he can stomach it--and popping some aspirin and curling up in a Bucky Burrito on the couch to binge Netflix. Sounds like a good idea. It’d be even better if he had someone to hold him through it. Guess breakfast will have to do.

In fact, from the smell of it, Clint is already up cooking breakfast. Pancakes. Eggs. And...bacon, oh dear god, thank you. Coffee, too, and since this is Clint making it, it’s gotta be perfect. 

Rolling out of bed in just his boxers, Bucky barely even opens his eyes as he ambles into the kitchen. He smacks his lips and moans and plops into the nearest seat at the end of the table. Bucky drops his head down and pillows them in his arms.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead.” 

Okay, well, now his eyes go wide because that’s definitely not Clint’s voice. Bucky lifts his head just enough to look up and realizes that there’s some blond guy in his kitchen. In a pair of pajama pants and T-shirt that’s probably a size-too-small, he’s at the stove cooking the bacon. 

“Wh-who’re you?” Bucky asks. “And why’re you in my kitchen?”

Frying pan in hand, he chuckles and turns to scoop some scrambled eggs on a plate next to a stack of pancakes. When Bucky gets a good look at him, he realizes that he’s the hot guy who lives down the hall. Steve Rogers. The guy that Bucky’s attempted to ask him out several times only to sputter over words and manage, at most, a hi, how are you or nice weather we’re having, huh. Majorly embarrassing. Even worse since when he’s not trying to ask him out, he’s perfectly capable of having a conversation with him.

They’re always fun, too. They like the same movies. Music. Shows. They spent over an hour hanging out on the rooftop during random get-togethers. 

Steve does graphic design for SHIELD, an LGBTQ Organization and volunteers as a counselor for LGBTQ youth and paints and apparently makes breakfast for his neighbors when they’re having one of the most horrible hangovers of their life.  

“I think the better question is what you’re doing in my kitchen.” Steve places the full plate in front of Bucky. “And to answer it, I awoke last night...” He pauses and snickers. “Well, more like this morning since it was after four, to someone desperately attempting to get into my apartment. And when I opened the door to see what was going on, someone called me a waste of a door and shoved me out of the way and then stumbled into my bedroom, stripping as they did, and then passed out in my bed.” 

Face burning red, and by extension making his stomach turn and his head hurt even more, Bucky doesn’t even know how to respond to this. He’s not sure if there’s a stronger word than humiliated but if there is, that’s him right about now. 

“I...I’m so sorry, Steve, I...” Bucky sighs. “I...”

Realizing that he’s literally sitting there in his underwear, Bucky blushes even more, and even if he figures out something to say, he won’t be able to say it. This has got to be the worst morning ever. 

“Here’s some water,” Steve says, placing a glass next to the plate. “I have aspirin, too, if you want.”

For someone who got woken up at four in the morning by his asshole neighbor drunkenly mistaking the wrong apartment for his and then passing out half-naked in his bed, this guy is awfully generous. 

“Thank you,” Bucky whispers. “I’m...I’m really sorry about this.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Who hasn’t forced their way into a neighbor’s place when they were drunk?”

“You’ve done this?”

“No. Never.” He laughs at his joke and just it makes his baby blues twinkle. Bucky’s belly twists again. Nothing to do with the hangover this time. “But, really, it’s okay. I have done some crazy things when drunk.”

Appreciative of the sympathy--while somehow not sounding like he pities Bucky either--Bucky grins, sheepishly. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Once, my first year of college, I was walking back to my dorm with some buddies and decided it would be a great idea to moon a bunch of cops.”

Bucky, having just taken a sip of water, nearly spits it out. He needs to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from doing so. 

“Yeah,” Steve laughs. “So, I kinda have a record. Hope that doesn’t ruin your breakfast.” 

“Not at all,” Bucky laughs. “Makes me feel a little bit better. A little bit.”

This gets him a soft smile and Bucky scoops up some of the eggs, awkward and unsure. Steve made them for him, so no matter how embarrassed he feels, it’d probably be rude not to eat them. Plus, he’s starving. Plus, it’s a really sweet gesture. Plus, wow, these’re really good.

But he still feels totally ridiculous, so maybe it’d be better if he just left. Although, he really wants to finish the food. 

“Um, these are really good,” Bucky murmurs. “But, if you want me to leave, I totally understand.”

“No, no!” Steve shakes his head very quickly. As though the idea of Bucky leaving right now is the very last thing he wants. “That’s fine. Finish your food.”

Steve sorta blinks like he’s suddenly shy and after clearing his throat, he gets up from the table and starts washing the dishes. Shit, Steve is hot. Even standing by the sink washing dishes in pajamas with water splashing onto his shirt and suds dripping onto the floor.

“Th-thanks. Um.” Bucky pushes some food around on the plate. “I can’t believe you’re being so cool about this.”

This time, Steve blushes. He blushes so hard that it reaches the tips of his ears and he folds in a smile.

“Well, I just figured I could hold it over your head forever.” 

"Oh, gee,” Bucky scoffs a laugh. “Thanks a lot. And here I thought you were just awesome.”

Eyes squeezed closed, Steve pinches between them and laughs to himself with a shake of his head. 

“There is also that other thing.”

“Which is?”

“I...kinda wanted to ask you out on a...date...” Steve laughs again, this time, Bucky thinks, a bundle of nerves. “But I chickened out every time I tried. So...”

Still reeling in that pretty smile of his, Steve lets it out and turns it on Bucky, and hot damn, that’s a smile that’ll make Bucky go weak at the knees whenever he sees it.

Heart skipping a beat, Bucky nibbles on his lip and almost can’t believe his ears. Given the hangover, he really wouldn’t be surprised if he’s hallucinating that the hot guy that he’s had a crush on for months just told him he’s been trying to ask him out on a date. 

“So you made me breakfast after I practically broke into your apartment and demanded I sleep here?”

Steve chuckles and sits down again, this time with a cup of coffee. He scoops some sugar into it and shrugs. 

“I mean...” He giggles. Outright giggles and Bucky didn’t think he could be more smitten with the guy. “I, uh, yeah. I figured, why not?”

“Um, maybe...” Bucky holds in a delighted chuckle. “Maybe, later, I can make you some lunch? When I’m not in my underwear.”

“I dunno.” Steve shrugs. “I kinda like you in your underwear oh my god, I’m sorry!” He hides his face in his hands. “I’m sorry! That was horrible, I shouldn’t’ve--”

“It’s okay, Steve.” Oh, Bucky really likes to say his name already. “That’s was...awesome. And not at all embarrassing.”

Looking over the tips of his fingers, Steve is clearly trying not to burst out laughing.

“Am I uninvited to lunch?”

“Not at all. In fact.” Bucky bats his eyes. “I think lunch’ll be an even better way to get rid of my hangover.” 

Steve smiles some more, and yes, that smile’ll pierce Bucky’s heart every time. Without a doubt. 

“I could...maybe wrap you in a blanket?” he offers. “Hold a cold compress over your head. Get you water. Stop me anytime.” 

“Actually, I’d really like that.” 

They smile at each other. The last thing Bucky expected to do when he first woke up this morning was going out on a date with Steve Rogers, the guy he’s been crushing on for months. 

Hangover well worth it. 

[ladyrivia]

Savior (Jaskier x Reader, fluff ending)

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Request: Would you be in the market to write some Jaskier x reader angst? Maybe they get into a big fight over something and the reader runs off and Jaskier goes off to find them and it’s been a few days but when he does eventually finds the reader they r injured from a monster attack? Up to you whether it ends with fluff or angst. I hope that made sense, it’s totally okay if you don’t write it :) have a nice night/day

Warnings: Violence

Authors Note: Of course! I love this request! Please let me know if you want me to write an angst ending for this one because I would be so down to do that! Thank you for requesting <333

LINK TO ANGST ENDING HERE

“No, I’m upset Jaskier! You left for a monster hunt on our anniversary, how could I not be upset?!” You exclaimed as you walked down the stairs of your shared home, Jaskier close behind.

He was an amazing boyfriend, but dear god could he be clueless on what is okay. 

It was your anniversary and you both had planned to go to the pub to drink and have fun, but out of the blue Jaskier had heard that Geralt was nearby on a hunt and had completely forgotten about your plans.

He had returned the second he had remembered, but that was now, and the harm had been done.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I truly am! You know how forgetful I am and how overindulged I get in this stuff! I know this doesn’t excuse my actions but I don’t know how to fix it.” He tried explaining his side, but you were having none of it, and just needed to get away.

“Just leave me alone,” You turned and pointed at him. “Don’t follow me.” You growled and stormed out the door, heading down the street to the forest surrounding the town. You needed to get away and clear your head, maybe grab some herbs for teas and healing ointments for your healing business. You didn’t know what exactly you were doing, just anything to get your mind off things for a while. 

You walked for a while, zoning out and not realizing how far you had gone until it was too late. The sun was setting, and it would be safer staying put rather than trying to make it back through the dense forest. Going to the main road would also not be safe as bandits lurk during the night, waiting for unsuspecting victims.

Your cloak was big enough to wrap completely around yourself, so you laid down to get some sleep.

You awoke to birds chirping and the sun shining in your eyes. You took your time getting up, you had nowhere to be and you were still too mad to return to Jaskier. 

‘Letting my anger dissipate now is better than risking taking it out on Jaskier.’ You thought, and headed down to the nearest creek to get a drink of water and maybe find some berries for breakfast.

BACK IN TOWN

“I can’t find her anywhere Geralt, I’m worried!” Jaskier nervously sat across from his friend at the pub.

“She’ll come back.” Geralt mumbled into his cup.

“But what if she’s in danger and I’m here sitting on my ass listening to you! That’s what got me in trouble in the first place!”

“No, you came after me, and I was listening to you.” Geralt corrected Jaskier’s blame.

“Regardless, what if she’s-” Jaskier was cut off by a shaken up merchant.

“Witcher! There’s more monsters out there! I was just attacked!” Geralt looked at the man and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hmm,” He grunted and stood up, quickly chugging the remaining ale. “Where?”

“Up the mountain! They’re hiding out in a cave! Left of the path just past Bald Man’s Rock! They stole my goods! I’ll pay you 150 gold if you can recover my items!” The disheveled merchant promised The Witcher.

Jaskier’s eyes were wide, he could only think of the horrible things that the monsters would do to Y/N if they got their claws on her. Geralt turned his head towards Jaskier and gave him a nod, reassuring him that Y/N would be okay.

IN THE FOREST

You had been wandering for a while, not wanting to return home yet. The rustling of leaves behind didn’t worry you at first, you assumed it was a deer that you had scared. But when it didn’t stop and got closer, that’s when you turned.

WACK

You hit the ground, groaning in pain, the unknown assailant had knocked you down and proceeded to choke you out. You tried to fight back but they were too strong, their initial blows weakening you. 

ON THE PATH

“Oh god, what if she’s dead because of this, because of me!” Jaskier rambled on. Geralt sighed and stopped Roach.

“If you don’t shut up I will knock you out and tie you to the back of Roach for the remaining part of this trip.” Geralt warned, he understood his friend’s worry, but continuing to talk about it wouldn’t get them anywhere. 

They continued down the path, following the merchant’s instruction.

“Bald Man’s Rock!” Jaskier exclaimed, rushing ahead of Geralt and Roach.

“Wait.” Geralt called out, getting off his horse and unsheathing his sword, stalking towards the direction of the monster’s hideout.

IN THE CAVE

“Rob ‘er of her items, then do whatever, I don’t really care.” A voice commanded, heavy footsteps approaching you. You blinked open your eyes to see a man walking towards you, malice in his eyes. You writhed, but the ropes tied around your arms and legs kept you from moving. He roughly grabbed you and patted you down, trying to find any hidden pouches on you. 

“Fuckin’ useless whore, doesn’t even have coin on ‘er.” He punched you across his face. Part of you was glad that you didn’t carry any coin, not wanting this bandits to take any of your hard earned money, but the other part of you wish you had so maybe they would let you go. “Go get Jager, he can dispose of ‘er.” Your eyes widen, there was no good outcome.

“What do you want Marin? ” A voice slurred, though he was drunk, there was a malice to his voice.

“Dispose of this wench, she has nothing, no coin or anything. Slash ‘er up so the locals keep believing there’s monsters in ‘ere.” The original man kicked you in the stomach, knocking you on your side.

“Yessir.” The man you presumed to be Jager stumbled over with a knife, you started to scream.

“Shut up!” He knelt on the ground and punched you in the face. You whimpered, tears running down your face. 

‘Don’t let this be the end, not without a goodbye to Jaskier’

The man slashed across your legs, a wound that looked consistent with a werewolf to a normal villager. He continued this pattern across your collarbone to the middle of your sternum. The wounds weren’t deep, but they weren’t shallow. He lifted the bottom of your dress and repeated this again on your upper thigh.

“Think that good enough?” Jager asked his partners in crime. 

“Good ‘nough for me, I don’t think the townspeople are smart enough to tell a cat scratch from a werewolf.” The room filled with laughter, the drunk bandits finding themselves hilarious.

“Well, I’m not a townsperson.” A deep voice announced from the entrance of the cave.

“Witcher!” Jager yelled, stepping away from you and holding his knife towards Geralt, who used his magic to knock him down.

The fight began, the drunk men ganging up on Geralt, but it wasn’t an issue for him, 5 drunken bandits were easy to deal with. They were human after all.

The clashing of metal filled you ears as tears of pain rolled down your face, the blood running down your body onto the floor.

“Y/N!” A voice called over the loud clashing.

“Jaskier?” You cried out.

“I’m here, I’m here,” He repeated, crouching next to you. He untied your arms and legs before taking a look at your injuries. “Oh my Gods what did they do to you?” He gasped at the injuries.

The last of the drunken men fell to Geralt’s feet, their heads falling nearby. Geralt sheathed his sword before walking back over to you two.

“Fuck,” He grumbled, also analysing your injuries. “Take Roach and get her back to town, quickly, I’ll catch up with you.” 

Jaskier was too worried about you to realise that Geralt was actually letting him touch Roach, he quickly scooped you up and rushed out of the cave Geralt following close behind. Geralt temporarily held you while Jaskier got on Roach before handing you back into Jaskier’s grasp, holding you close as he nudged Roach to start moving. 

Everything turned black.

“Toss a coin to your witcher, o’ valley of plenty..” 

You groaned, confused on what had happened. You blinked your eyes open, and tried to sit up.

“Fuck.” You hissed out in pain looking at the bandages on your body. 

The tune stopped, a gasp came from the corner. Jaskier set his lute down before rushing over to you.

“You’re awake!” He kissed your forehead. “You’re finally awake! It’s been 3 days! Do you remember anything?” 

“No…?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Don’t stress about it too much, it’s probably better that way.” He felt your forehead. “No fever, that’s good, means you’re healing nicely. Are you hungry? You must be hungry, wait here I’ll grab you some stew.” He rushed down the stairs. 

He returned shortly with a bowl of hot stew and placed on the end table next to the bed so he could help you sit up. He sat next to you on the bed and fed you stew.

“This is all my fault, I promise you I am not going to leave without your permission ever again, fuck Y/N, I’m so sorry,” He rambled on as he fed you. You grabbed his arm.

“I forgive you Jaskier, I’m sorry for running off.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for anything-” You cut him off with a kiss.

“Let’s just stop talking about this, please? How about you tell me about your newest ballad.” His eyes lit up with excitement when you mentioned his music. 

“Well, how about I play it for you?” He jumped up, you nodded your head and smiled as he skipped over to the table to set down the bowl before grabbing his lute, strumming his newest tune. “This is about how Geralt let me ride Roach to save your life.” 

Finally, things were back to normal.

[majorweeb]

The Vacation

Lucy was tired, after being gone all the time off doing requests she needed a much-needed break.

Always being around Natsu is hard and after Gray and Juvia broke up, uh it had driven her crazy.

Apparently, Juvia was unhappy with their bedroom relations. She needed more and he couldn't keep it up unless he was drunk. It broke them down. Which in turn upset Lucy because he would go with Natsu, Happy, and her on missions.

Lucy loved Gray and enjoyed his companionship, so it didn't really matter one way or another. Yet, being labeled a homewrecker was annoying. Even if only Juvia believed it.

Lucy was done, not this month. She had saved up enough Jewels to go to the beach. She had found the perfect little house with its own private area where she and Plue could be free from the chaos that was the guildhall.

She loved everyone but even Levy thought it would be best. In fact, it was her family's home she was renting.

She yawned and stretched knowing that today she was finally able to leave and have some space.

"Ugh, I'm so glad I packed up last night! This is going to be great 4 full weeks of fun and freedom!" She said as she stretched in her pink bed. A small white cutoff tank barely covering her breasts.

Yawn escaping her lips as she rose stretching deeper, navy blue boy shorts riding up her ass as she bent over.

"Oi Lucy, still not up yet huh? Those are new, like the way they ride up..." Natsu started to say as Lucy decided to kick him in the face.

"Lucy Kick"! she screamed wondering why in the hell he couldn't use that damn door to come over.

Covering up and walking to the bathroom to get dressed for the day she huffed.

"Get out Natsu, I have shit to do and I don't need to be harassed at the moment. Can't, you ever knock?" Slamming the bathroom door in his face.

"But Lushi, Happy left me high and dry. Some stupid exceed thing and him, Charlie, and Pantherlily all left last night. I'm lonely. Can't I stay and snuggle with you?" Natsu whined from her bed stretched out and looking his best.

Years they'd been traveling together and he wanted nothing more to just bend her over and have his way. But she deserved more than the thoughts that ran through his brain as he fisted himself on lonely nights.

Lucy exited the bathroom in a low-waisted pair of painted-on skin-tight jeans, hair pulled back into a high ponytail, and a navy blue tight button-up sleeveless blouse. Oh, and Natsu was ever so pleased with his large baggy pants. Groaning at the thought of those panties from earlier being too high for her to be wearing them under those pants. Oh shit, was she wearing a bra?

He watched her as she roamed her room gathering her keys and placing them on her hip. Putting toiletries and such into a duffle.

He was about to ask her what was going on, she said that she was taking a break. Why was she packing? That's when there was a knock at her door. He could smell him before he announced himself. Gray that asshat, always getting in the damn way.

"Hey, Gray, what's up?" eyes full of joy as she smiled at him when he let himself in.

"Hey, Lucy, where ya going? I came by to see you and wanted to know what you were doing later. But I see you are packing."

"Hey Ice Princess! What are you doing here? Hiding?" Natsu said with an air of sarcasm that was obvious.

"No, she left had shit to do with Gajeel! But who fucking cares." Throwing himself onto Lucy's couch.

" Listen I love you both, and so enjoy listening to you girls banter over who is prettier. I am very much in a hurry and have to catch a train. So if you don't mind. GET OUT!"

"Where ya going, Luce? I wanted to spend time with you? Can I come too? It'll be fun, just us like old times. Please!!" Fake tears welling into Natsu's eyes as he pleaded with her to know what she was doing for the next few weeks.

"Well if you must know I rented a house out in Akane Beach, ya know Levys beach property. I have the next four weeks of sun, sand, ocean, and a whole city to explore." She seemed excited and dreamy.

The next thing she knew she has boarded a train with both Gray across from her and Natsu with his nose buried deep in her lap. She swore he loved this more than anything and it always made her a little excited knowing her scent calmed him. She grew stiff wondering what scent calmed him. He huffed and she went back to carding her finger through his hair. Yet, why the in hell are they coming along. Didn't they have better things to do?

She ignored the situation and decided to nap on the 2-hour train ride. Fingers combing through the soft tendrils of Natsu's hair. Whether she wanted to admit it or not the attention of two of the hottest ( in her opinion) guys in all of Fairy Tail, hell all of Magnolia wanted to tag along. Who was she to say no?

She awoke to the soft tapping on her shoulder a while later knowing that it was Gray informing her that they had arrived.

Luggage gathered and all of them together walked to the beach house. She picked a room out of the 5 and unpacked listening to the other 2 bickered about Mavis knows what and she just ignored it.

After all, was settled she wanted food. Not fast food or restaurant food, home-cooked food.  She grabbed her keys and released Virgo informing her of her duties while she was off shopping.

"Yes Master, will you punish me if I don't do it properly?" Virgo stated as she bowed low in her skimpy french maid's uniform.

"No, just I wanna cook but need all of this out and ready so it's easier. I won't have to look for what I need this way. " Quickly changing into something cooler.

When Lucy walked out of her appointed room in her tiny black shorts and white bikini Natsu almost busted a nut right then and there on the couch. Gray was no better, having lost his cigarette somewhere on the porch and quickly spreading ice over it to stop and prevent a fire. Overdoing it all the way to the waves.

"I'll be back getting groceries, if you need anything go and do it on your own. I'll just be an hour or so." She put a small white poncho over top and slipped on her sandals and made her way out.

"Hey Ice dick, nice cover-up! If I didn't know any better you just shot your damn load all over the fucking yard." laughing as he stretched out over the couch closing his eyes.

"Like your any better, that burn mark where your hands were arent any better. Fucking Flame brain!" putting out his smoke and coming inside.

" If I have to be here with you, I need liquor, and soon, let's go and keep your tiny firebreathing dragon in your pants huh."

When Lucy got home they were both gone and it was nice to have some quiet as she worked. She had released Virgo when she returned and quickly called upon Loke. He was a little naughty but he sure could cook.

He left with a bow when dinner was almost done and she was happy to see him for that short time.

While plating dinner the door busted open and in came Natsu and Gray, shitfaced and laughing. She could deal with them happily, this would be cake.

"Hey Luce, is that dinner. So hungry, want food then you! GRRRR!" Natsu growled as he sat at the table.

Lucy was shocked he had never spoken to her that way before and was way out of character, even when he had had a few.

Gray just sat across from him, smile plastered to his face sitting in just his boxer briefs. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a sizable tent in Grays briefs. Assuming it must have been just the alcohol she continued serving.

"Of course, not a single day without some fun huh guys." Smacking her forehead at the both of them. Natsu being a dumb ass and Gray almost naked.

"Hey Lucy, we brought home drinks you wanted to relax, let's eat and have fun. Chat, get to know each other better." Slamming the large bottle of Jager on the table.

She didn't know what to say or think, but a drink or two would get them to calm down and maybe give her the evening alone as they slept it off. Maybe she could write a little as she planned, or a nite swim was nice.

Dinner went off nicely, she made lamb chops with rosemary and garlic, sided with cauliflower Au Gratin and asparagus.

They all decided to start drinking and her goal was a few drinks and shove them off to sleep. Yet, that was far from her evening plans! This night was a night to remember.

After the first bottle was done and they were a giggling mess on the back deck, she had summoned who she had hoped would be Loke. Someone with willpower to calm them all down, as they were begging for more alcohol.

That is not who she summoned at all, in fact, Virgo was all for her master being shitfaced. She got more alcohol and learned if Lucy was dared she would be punished and have her ass bit. She enjoyed this Lucy more. She released herself with a moan.

Lucy leaned over both the boys and whispered, " Wanna hear a secret?"

Both sat up straight and made sure to listen so carefully, excited to hear what the blonde had to say.

"I've always wanted to see you two kiss! Please be nice to me, I'm a good girl right. I wanna see tongue."

Gray just shrugged his shoulders and leaned over, placing his lips onto Natsu. He was expecting it to be quick and make Lucy happy, little did he know that the warmth of his lips sent a shock right to his groin. It didn't help that Natsu moaned and grabbed the back of his neck in the process licking his lips begging for entry.

Lucy removed herself from their lap and watched in amazement as the kiss became more and more heated.

Hands groping, tongues lashing. The next thing she knew Gray was on top of Natsu caging him in and not allowing him to retreat from the small loveseat made of bamboo.

Natsu thrust his hips forward and ground against Gray in a way to relieve the pressure of his growing problem,  moaning and panting between licks, bites, and kisses.

Lucy moaned out loud catching the attention of the 2 men who seemed to have lost all thought and cared less about where they were.

"Lushie, are you jealous? Or is that smell out of lust?" Natsu said as he sniffed the air in her direction. The prominent tent in his pants growing by the second.

Gray removed himself from above Natsu and picked Lucy up threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the house. Groping her ass in the process. Natsu followed.

Walking into the room she had picked which seemed to have the largest bed know to all Fiore, he tossed her on it. Natsu coming behind Gray rubbing up against him making the man moan as he felt his friend's cock press roughly against his ass.

He leaned his head against his shoulder feeling the warm hands of Natsu roam his alcohol-riddled body and shuddered.

"Lucy, I want you to take off your clothes, I want to watch you go crazy as you watch us. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you be good and not touch yourself as I touch Gray.

She nodded enthusiastically as her shorts and bikini top were removed. Whimpering as she removed the small patch of fabric covering her leaking wet pussy.

Natsu had started stroking off Gray through his briefs as they both watched Lucy wiggle and squirm. The smell of her arousal thick in the air as their clothes were removed between petting and touching. Natsu got down on his knees and licked the underside of Grays cock. Feeling it's girth lay on his tongue. Gray got on the bed first, just to her right feeling the softness of the cotton under his fingers, using his ice magic to create a pair of cuffs for her on the bed. Pinning her down and spreading her out.

Natsu came up on her left, warming his hands so that the touch of his fingers was like a shock to her entire body.

"Please, oh Mavis someone touch me already. Together,  separate, I don't care. I've needed and wanted this for so long. I'm begging you!" moaning loudly as each of them worked their way up her body. Kissing each other along the way. She could feel their precum dripping on her thighs as they groped, licked, and flicked different parts of her body.

She was overwhelmed, the icy feel of Gray with the burning touch of Natsu drove her insane. Screaming as her first orgasm ripped through her.

"Good girl, what would you like next?" Gray whispered in her ear causing the warmth to pool between her legs once again.

Seeing Natsu lick the slick of her orgasm off his fingers was too much, she held back a moan as her body became hotter and hotter and not form touch.

Both of them slowly started sending an icy burning trail down her body. Cupping her and teasing her until she thrashed against the icy cuffs.

They took turns rubbing her clit, while the other entered her giving her the feeling of both of their magic. Showing her that it wasn't just for fighting.

" I need you in me please!!" She begged

Gray removed her cuffs and they let her relax for a moment, she watched in awe as she watched them both on their knees kissing again. As they kneeled over her their cocks touched and she leaned forward and licked them simultaneously. Wrapping her hands around them both stroking them as they made out.

They stopped and the look in their eyes had her building again, she had heard about sex, but never anything like this.

They looked back at each other when out of nowhere Gray said, " Bottom!"

She had assumed he meat to take from Natsu but boy was she wrong.

Natsu gathered her up in his arms and made her wrap her legs tightly around his waist. Felling his hot cock bob against her thighs, feeling its warmth against her clit and begging to enter her.

She looked over at Gray laying on his back lubing up his own cock, back against the headboard, soft moans escaping his lips.

"Go to him, he's waiting!" Natsu whispered in her ear causing her to shiver with excitement. she crawled over to Gray, ass in the air in hopes to entice Natsu. Entice she did, except she wasn't expecting a hot tongue licking a wet hot streak from clit to ass. Making her jello in their arms.

"Please, need more." breathy moans and lust addled mind saying all she could.

"Turn around, let me help you."

She obeyed and she was then pulled back into Grays's arms. His chest against her back, his cock throbbing against the cleft of her ass, his hands playing with her nipples, rolling them around between his finger and thumb. Keeping his hands icy and causing her to twitch with anticipation.

He then pulled her up so that his cock was pressed against her dripping wet pussy, lips throbbing, eyes heavy and full of lust. Until Natsu got on his hands and knees and crawled across the bed in-between her legs.

Shoving the ice-cold cock down his throat, enjoying the moans from Gray as his heated breath and mouth covered him completely.

"Fuck Natsu, so good, so warm yes!" Gray moaned thrusting his hips as her body gushed from the site and the feelings.

" Nice choice on taste Ice Prick!" Natsu smirked moving Grays cock aside and he began to loosen Lucy up, licking her clit as his fingers toyed with her tight little asshole.

She screamed and relaxed around the digits and more and more entered her. Scissoring her open, making her body ready for Gray.

Before she knew it she was being ripped open as Gray started moving his cock deeper and deeper into her ass. Saying calming words into her ear while Natsu began to lick her clit again. Nibbling on her lips, thrusting his tongue into her warm cavern.

Once she was relaxed Gray trusted up into her. Enjoying the feel yet afraid of cumming too soon.

Natus leaned over them, kissing Lucy, letting her taste the lube, herself, and Gray all at once on him.

He then leaned down to kiss Gray, the passion deep and inviting.

Reaching down with his right hand, burning her skin so delicately and popping her right breast into her mouth he shoved his cock deep inside her in one fluid motion.

Her scream would have had the neighbors calling the police if they were in Magnolia. But here, here they could ravage her as much as they wanted, no fear of having to stop. Not unless she said so.

Lifting himself slightly he began to trust, causing not only his cock to move but Grays as well. Making her as full as possible.

Her nails dug into Natsu's back, her lips sloppily kissing Gray. Moaning as she was about to reach yet another orgasm and squeezing tightly around her boys. Enjoying the feeling of Grays hands fondling her nipples, sucking on her ears lobes, kissing her neck. While Natsu leaned back slightly to watch her come apart as his thumb rubbed circles on and around her clit. Edging her into completion.

"Yes.. Yes... Oh Fuck Yes! Please more, don't stop I need you in me, fill me, fuck me, claim me, take me I'm yours.

Her moans drowning out even the sound of the waves outside.

Gray was moaning as well, "Cum again Lucy, come on baby I wanna feel you cum on my cock."

Natsu started thrusting faster and harder. He leaned down and kissed Gray again to then turn his head and kiss Lucy, " That's it, baby. Cum for us, scream, let us make you feel good all month long."

Her orgasm ripped through her in a loud guttural groan, making her whole body go tight.

The feel of her squeeze caused both men to gasp and lose their breath as Natsu started to pump in a ragged uneven rhythm.

His orgasm was ripped from him first, the look in his eyes as he stared down at Gray in his moment of bliss made Gray cum loudly. Their eyes never leaving each other as they rode out their orgasm.

Natsu carefully pulled out of Lucy, assisted Gray in untangling her limp and satisfied body to the bed.

Gray went and got a few warm rags and gently cleaned and cared for Lucy while Natsu got them each a water bottle. She drank like a dying woman, thirst more apparent now that she stopped. With the sheet over her overstimulated body, she relaxed reaching out for them to hold her. Wanting to be the middle spoon.

"Never leave me, guys. I love you, and I know you love each other." she yawned and fell asleep. Being held by the two men she loved most.

Natsu leaned over Lucy to kiss her on her cheek and promised to never leave. Confessing he's loved her all along.

He looked at Gray, "Shes Right ya know, I love you too! I would do anything for ya!"

Gray reached across and kissed him deeply, " I love you too flame brain, and you too Lucy. Tomorrow we can work all this out."

They all fell asleep in each other's arms, full of love and bliss.

This has no beta and I did a quick read to make sure I edited it okay!

[simonxriley]

1, 3, 16, 18 and 22 for the Writer Qs? ❤️❤️

Thank you! 💜💜

Ask the Writer Game

1: Is there a favorite character or title you enjoy writing for the most?

Canon wise it would be Tachanka, Glaz, Ghost, Price and Grayson. OC wise it would be Skylar and Liz. It’s hard to choose 😅

3: Name a fanfic/story you are particularly proud of writing.

Jade Helm, hands down. I know it’s nowhere near being done, but I’m just so proud of it. It’s the one fic I have where writing it doesn’t feel like a chore and writing about Skylar’s and Tachanka’s relationship comes so easily, that I can just write. I’ve never had that before and it feels like a breath of fresh air. 

16: Any ideas you wanted to write about, but never did?

I wanted to do a Bandit x Jager one-shot where Bandit brings his niece and nephew to the base and shows them around, eventually coming to Jager working on his chopper. Jager then takes them all for a quick drive around. I still might do this at some point. 

Kapkan and Skylar’s origin story. I did one for all of her ships (2 I’m still working on) but it only seems fair that I do it for all of her ships. I just find it a little too bland to write, it’s not as juicy as her other ones. 

18: Are there any topics you find difficult to write for?

Definitely non-con. I’m fine with implying it in the story, but to actually write it is a big no for me. 

22: Care to share any future WIP ideas you have lined up?

Besides the stuff I already have in progress I have another Tachanka x Skylar one shot that’s pretty much like I Love You And I’m Sorry, but instead of Skylar dying and Tachanka dealing with the pain, it’ll be Tachanka dying and Skylar dealing with the pain. A Fuze & Glaz one-shot and a crossover between R6S (Tachanka & Skylar) and Call of Cthulhu where the cult takes Tachanka as hostage to force Skylar and Pierce to do the ritual.