#I could’ve taken more but i didn’t want to be a pig

[tariah23]

Either tomorrow (well, later on today) or Sunday is gonna be my last day at this location 🥺…

[lenle-g]

Inspired by this WIP by @astranite <3

“Do I look okay?” John had frozen with his fingers tucked into his hair, a curl wound around his index. He twisted it on repeat, the only flicker of movement that remained, along with the dart of his eyes to Scott, around the room and then to the stars beyond. Would he pass their father's inspection? That’s the question John was really asking. Scott reached out. “May I?” John gave a short, sharp nod, eyes going back to the floor. His uniform hat hung loosely from his other hand, dancing on the borderline of keeping enough tension not to drop it.

Slowly and deliberately, Scott tugged John’s uniform straight, setting his lilac baldric on his shoulder proper, and smoothing out the wrinkles from sky blue fabric. It wasn’t perfect, it certainly wasn’t ironed, but it was better. John seemed more like his usual self, albeit standing shakily on his own two feet, now he didn’t look as much like he was fresh off of a crying jag. Or rather he was more of the John he put out to the world and everyone was allowed to see. And yet, there was a tiny bit more hope held in his frame and the way he actually breathed now. Scott kept his hands pressed to John’s chest a moment longer than necessary; he could feel his brother’s racing heart beating even through the layers of uniform and baldric. It was a blatant excuse to touch, woven together with the practical need to help, and an opportunity to be near taken after being so far away for so long. John rocked forward on his toes to lean into it and they stayed like that, locked together for a what could’ve been an eternity or a millisecond, before Scott slid his hands off the edges of John’s sharp shoulders and John returned to fidgeting with his hair. The movements though were a little frantic; John winced as he caught a snarl at the back as he attempted to fingercomb it into order, too clumsy and frustrated with himself. Scott gently took over when John’s stared at him, eyes an echo of sea green and pleading quietly. He clutched his hat to his chest as he wriggled the fingers of his other hand at his side in a never ending pattern of waves. Scott did his best to comb the back of his brother’s unruly hair to lie in the same direction, to become part of a pattern while the long, soft strands curl where John can’t see them. Waves. The waves of John’s stimming; the wavering lights of the auroras he studies. Maybe Scott was beginning to see why John always insisted it was all connected, the entire universe together. Then his mind returned to the waves of the oceans of Earth and the ripples of their pool overflowing when they all jumped in at the same time. Soon they would be there, John too. Scott swept a clump of strands away from where they brushed John’s neck and caught in his collar to join with the others. “Getting a bit long at the back here, Jay,” he murmured. John’s free hand turned to flickering. “Yeah. Maybe even Virge could… Y’know fix it while I’m on Earth.” “Course! He’d be happy to help. He does love a guinea pig for hairstyling experiments but he will just give you a trim, if that’s what you want.” John’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Better than letting Grandma get a hold of me.” Grandma wielding the kitchen shears was nearly as terrifying as the prospect of her getting ahold of Brains’ plans for a turbo nuclear powered oven. Again. It sure was a way to cook, not even the solidly frozen turkey had survived its maiden flight last Christmas. John and Scott laughed over past family mishaps together. Maybe it was the prospect of joining them that made it so John didn’t change the subject to avoid them. Casual conversation could be painful in ways other people didn’t see until it was too late. Doing John’s hair though reminded Scott of getting his brothers ready as kids, lining them up in their good clothes for their father's rounds of inspection. He’d never not expected military spit and polish. John was usually the one to need least last minute fixing up. Virgil was a dirt magnet for paint, food and grease. Gordon had a talent for getting soaking wet five minutes before they had to be out the door, and Alan had been a literal baby. John would either be found sitting at the ready by the front door, his nose in a book, or he’d be helping Scott out with the others.

[littlemisskookie]

Free Use: Ch 8

Free Use: Ch 8

Free Use:  Index

Ship: Crush!Taehyung | Reader | feat. Jungkook

Description: Childhood Friends/Crush/Neighbors/College!AU. Your long time crush agrees to be your dom.

Warnings: Free Use Kink, Dom/Sub Relationship, Dom Taehyung, Dom Jungkook, Voyeurism/Exhibitionism, Degrading, Dirty Talk, Objectification, Fingering, Ruined Orgasm, Forced Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Pain Kink, Spanking, Slapping, Choking, Cuckholding? Jungkook is very mean and a brat tamer, Y/N gets railed in a janitors closet, i wouldn’t be surprised if i’m forgetting something, this is really vile i’m sorry i’m depraved, ITS ALL CONSENSUAL THO THIS IS HER DREAM AND MINE TOO

Word Count: 4,188

A/N: I think you can tell how horny I was making this.

Surprisingly, Jungkook acts completely normal around you at school, even after he listened to you get railed and witnessed your expressions to your anal virginity being taken. He was so cavalier about it, you wondered for a moment if you had simply had some perverted dream instead. His bunny grin still seems so innocent, doe eyes so pretty. Nothing like the man who degraded you for the obscene acts you enjoyed with Taehyung. The more you'd stare at him absentmindedly, the more convinced you were that they couldn't have possibly been the same person. Jungkook, sweetheart muscle pig, himbo king, best friend of Taehyung?

You must've been too obvious with your gawking during class, however, because you feel someone's breath near your ear as you write. "Keep staring and soon everyone’s gonna know you’re desperate," Jungkook whispers, sending shivers down your spine. You stiffen, turning to look at him with widened eyes, before demurely looking back down at your desk. Jungkook looks amused, blowing cold air on your neck. Goosebumps appear along your skin, which Jungkook takes note of. “I wonder what they’d think if they knew you loved having Taehyung’s dick in your ass.”

You squirm, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to remain composed. Jungkook pushes back some of your hair to see your face, seeming delighted in your flushed complexion. “It’s alright. I can keep a secret.”

He smirks, straightening up to walk back to his seat.

You crossed your legs and tightened your grip on your pen, gnawing on your lip. Taehyung didn't have this class with the two of you. Would he be ok with Jungkook flirting with you without his presence?

You didn't have to worry for long, however, because you're greeted with a text from Taehyung to meet you in the Humanities section. You followed his directions only to end up in a near empty hallway, with nearly nothing around aside from the janitors closets and a few empty professor offices. You double check Taehyung's text before a hand is on your mouth. You're dragged into a tiny utilities closet, being knocked back into a hard chest. The mystery man turns you around, knocking your back against the door, hands grabbing your wrists and pinning you in place. 

His mouth meets yours, tongue diving in and having it's way with you. Your eyes fly open, pulling back. "Taehyung?"

He flips the light-switch on beside him, and you're met with the sight of his handsome face in front of yours. "Got it right, baby."

He kisses you again, this time a peck as a reward."Who else would it be?" you question.

"Could've been Jungkook. He told me you were staring at him during Bioethics." Taehyung snickers at it, finding it humorous as he flicks your forehead. 

"I'm sorry," you apologize.

"Why're you sorry? Makes sense for you to be staring at him considering what your last interaction was." He notices your shudder, though it didn't seem to be out of fear. "I trust you liked it?"

"I did, but I don't want you to feel jealous-"

"I think you do, though," Taehyung interrupts, closing the already small gap between you, crowding your space. "I still remember how wet you were when we finally fucked. I think you liked seeing me mad."

Your knees buckle, unable to escape as you were met with this confrontation. "Maybe."

"What do you like about it?" His fingertips lightly graze the exposed skin beneath the hem of your skirt, teasing you. His nose traces over the side of your neck, the touch featherlight."Like seeing me fuck my anger out on you? Claiming you as mine?"

"Y-Yeah..." you bashfully admit.

"No need to be ashamed, baby," Taehyung assures you. "I liked it too. I'll use any opportunity to prove you're mine and why. I'm your boyfriend now, right?"

You smile and nod, raising to your tip-toes to kiss him. "Yeah, you are."

"I know you're attracted to Jungkook. It's fine, baby, it doesn't matter. You know who owns you." Taehyung cradles your face in his large hands, his touch so soft and gentle. "Jungkook can fuck you good, I don't mind letting him. I know I can fuck you better."

"Is this leading up to something?"

"Jungkook's getting chewed out by his coach as we speak. He texted me about it. I figured I'd be a good friend and give him something to help with stress relief." One hand disappears, the other having a firm grip on your jaw, holding you in place to look up at him. "You're basically a toy anyways, aren't you?"

"Yes," you say breathily, "you own me."

"Wanna let Jungkook play with you then? I'll be right outside this door and let him take out his anger in fucking you. I know a slut like you'd always desperate for cock." His breath runs over your lips, and your knees buckle beneath you. 

"Yes. Wanna please him."

"Mm, what a good toy." Taehyung grins down at you. "Should I text Jungkook to come here now then? Tell him to rail you as I keep watch?"

You nod, leaning your head against Taehyung's chest. He whips out his phone, letting you stare down at his screen as he sends the text. You don't fail to notice his lockscreen was now a picture of you from your Instagram. You smiled, a small wholesome moment before the most unsanctimonious sins would be performed, kept for yourself. You'd have to remember to have Taehyung and you take couple photos once you had time. 

"Jungkook's gonna be real happy about his gift," Taehyung says, kissing you softly. "Just say the safeword if you need to and he'll stop. He'll take good care of you."

You wondered how he knew this about Jungkook, but then realized it was likely they had shared women before. Jungkook seemed all too keen on listening in on you, and Taehyung in turn letting him. Taehyung would now be hearing you fucking Jungkook. They seemed to just have that sort of relationship. 

"Same for you," you remind him, Taehyung returning your soft smile.

"My girlfriend's so cute," he says, hand pulling at your skirt, bunching up the fabric to expose your pussy. "Jungkook's gonna have fun wrecking you. He's gonna end up addicted."

"Sir, touch me."

"Can't do, baby. Gotta have manners, let Jungkook have his turn. I'll have my turn with you after."

You hear a knock at the door, a unique pattern. Why did it not surprise you that Jungkook and Taehyung had a secret knock? What dorks.

Taehyung opens the door, the space becoming more crowded as Taehyung pulls you against him, your back against his chest. Jungkook stands in front of you, towering over you as you were trapped between them.  He grins down at you, the same sadistic smile you were getting used to on Taehyung. It was like a lion that was about to play with its food. "This my gift?"

"Thought you might benefit from a stress toy or something," Taehyung shrugs nonchalantly. His hands rub your arms, keeping you secure. "You seem tense."

It was true. He seemed all puffed up, either with hot air, smoke from how he was fuming inside, or raw energy. It was a kin to a bull before it was released into the ring at a rodeo. "Yeah, I guess I should blow off some steam." His grip slides down to your throat, pulling you closer to him. "Want me to use you, Y/N?"

You nod, trying your best to keep your breathing steady and composed. "Yes, please, want it."

You feel a quick breeze and sting of pain on your cheek, another one quickly following your other cheek. You let out a moan, squirming between the two men as you reach out, grasping onto Jungkook's shirt as your knees buckle. He curses under his breath at your reaction, and soon you're feeling his erection on your hip. "Little painslut. Can't believe this shit turns you on."

Taehyung grins, reaching for the door knob. "I'm gonna go keep watch. Wouldn't want anyone finding you fucking my girlfriend."

He closes the door behind him, and you're left alone with your dear friend, Jungkook. At this moment though he seemed anything like the youngest you had grown up with. He has you step back until your back meets the wall next to the door, close enough for Taehyung to surely be able to hear every dirty word Jungkook called you. He immediately flips your skirt up, making you squeal in response. His hand immediately cups your bare pussy, finding his digits soaked to no one's surprise. "Shit. I swore once when you crossed your legs that I saw your pussy, but I thought I must've been seeing things. You're so gross, Y/N."

"Taehyung asked me not to-"

"Because you gave your underwear to him immediately? Offered him your pussy? Like some kind of street whore? It just screams you were desperate to be fucked." Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "God, why couldn't you pick me, huh? I knew you just as long as him. It's so unfair." He whines out the words, fingers thrusting into you, his movements rough and punishing. He finds your g-spot with ease, grinning wickedly as he sees you start to crumble.

"I'm sorry, it was always him," you gasp out, mewling when his thumb started stimulating your clit. 

"Mhm, guess I should be happy we're so close then. Either way I'd fuck you. You would've been destined to be shared between me and Tae." He bit his lip, feeling your walls begin to squeeze around his digits, the loud sounds of your wet pussy filling the room. "I knew you'd be so wet for me. Always knew I'd get to fuck you one day. Something about you just screamed slut."

You try to reach down to his erection, only for him to force your head to straighten up again, grip squeezing slightly on your throat. His pace inside you stills as he forces you to make harsh eye contact with him. You reach up to his hand, nails dragging into his forearm as he glared at you. How had it never occurred to you before how hot Jungkook was when he was angry? "Did I say you could touch me? Thought you were supposed to be good. Are you only a good girl for Tae?"

"I'm already so close! This is supposed to be for you."

"I'm a big believer in ladies cum first," Jungkook says, curling his fingers again in reminder, keeping you at that edge. "It's our first time, after all. Don't want you getting a bad impression of me."

"Thought this was stress relief," you shot back.

Jungkook growls out, choking you in that way that made you feel light headed and curling his fingers inside you repeatedly, pounding at your g-spot as his palm ground against your clit. You gasped out, staring back at Jungkook, whose nostrils flared in anger. "You're lucky I like to break brats like you. Go on and cum, since you just want to hurry and get punished so badly. While I'm still feeling nice."

His tongue pokes at his cheek in concentration, and soon your spasming over his fingers. "Ju-" You somehow manage to moan out his name loudly enough for him to have to let go of your throat and cover your mouth. He stared at your expression, your eyes crossing as you orgasmed against his digits. He lets you ride out your high, your thighs glistening now from the mess he made of you. He pulls out his fingers, rubbing your folds, making you cringe in oversensitivity. 

"Fucking slut, don't you know you have to be quiet?" Jungkook scolds you. "You want everyone to see you in here getting fucked, huh? Want them to see how wet you get just from being slapped around? Want them to see how wet you get for me?" You're given no time to defend yourself before he's pressing against you, mouth against yours. You realize this is the first time you've kissed Jungkook. His style of kissing you was different from Taehyung. Taehyung is all consuming, dominating you easily. Jungkook's is more coaxing, more soft and playful. It was like he was easing you into a false sense of security before he reminds you what he's about to do. You moan into the kiss, your hands pulling him in as he presses his body against yours. He lifts one of your legs, hooking near his waist to grind against you. You feel the fabric of his uniform slacks against your pussy, moaning into his mouth.

"Can't believe you're letting me treat you like some object," he mumbles against you. "Letting Taehyung pimp you out like this. You're such a whore."

You whimper as he quickly works to undo the buttons on your shirt, revealing your bra. He roughly pulls down the cups of your bra, teeth catching a nipple, giving you harsh treatment. You slap your own hand over your mouth, trying to keep your moans down as best you can. Jungkook lets go of you, showing a sadistic grin. "Stupid girl learned something for once, huh?"

You twist your face into a scowl, immediately wanting to bite back. "My grades-"

"Doesn't matter, you're still stupid." He turns you around, hand cracking down on your ass. You yelp immediately, unprepared, the moan no doubt escaping the thin walls of the janitor's closet. "See? What'd I just tell you? Stupid girl can't keep quiet even without a cock in her."

You keep down your whines as he continues spanking you, one hand lifting your skirt to let him see and the other punishing you with a force that made you jolt. "You're stupid because you just need a guy to tell you how dirty you are for your brain to become mush. You handed over your panties without even thinking. You kept this wet pussy from us for years when you could've been getting fucked the way you're supposed to. Aren't you such a stupid girl for that?"

He delivers a harsh slap right at your pussy, making you rise to your tip toes at the mix of pain and pleasure. "Say you're a stupid girl if you want me to fuck you."

"I'm a stupid girl," you blurt out immediately, earning a cocky grin from the handsome man. Your heart began racing as you look behind you to see him unbuckling his belt and pulling out a condom.

"Yeah?" His tone is so cocky. You hold your breath in anticipation when you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. Jungkook only teased you, however, arm reaching around you to tug you closer to him, his frame caging yours as his fingers danced down your abdomen. "Why's that, huh?"

"B-because I should've told you guys the truth earlier," you blabber, trying to move your hips back. Jungkook's fingers rubbed circular motions around your clit, making it impossible for you to stay still. Jungkook held you in place however, enjoying watching you squirm. "That I'm a slut."

Jungkook hummed, kissing your neck, fingers continuing to drive you crazy. He pushes his hips forward, trapping you snuggly against him as he plunges his dick inside. Both of you moan out at the feeling, your legs left quivering as you try to stabilize yourself. "Can't believe you kept this pussy from me," Jungkook gasps out, hips rutting against yours, his grasp on you tightening. "I should've been fucking this pussy ages ago, could've felt you creaming my cock, and would've if you hadn't kept it from me. Stupid, selfish little slut."

You moan from how much he filled you, aiming at that spot that had your toes curling. "I'm sorry!"

Jungkook yanks your hair back, making your back arch. "You haven't even begun to feel sorry yet," he growls, kissing you with a ferocity as he kept your head in place, grip firm in your hair. He was consuming all of your senses, the cramped space giving you nothing to give you get distance. You were reminded of when you danced with him at the club, the first time he even began to direct his behavior to you. "Take this cock you were so desperate for."

He lets go of you, hands securing on your hips to fuck you deeper, as though he were really using you as a toy to relieve stress. You moan out, eyes welling up with tears from feeling the tip touch your cervix. Jungkook notices, diving in to the hilt and slowly grinding his hips against yours, skin pressed together. His hand returned to your clit, making your muscles tense up from the simulation from both ends. "Can you handle it?" He breathes the words out, his fingers making it hard to focus.

"Yeah, use me. I can take it." You say the words with full confidence.

Jungkook lifts one of your legs up, rotating your hips as he spreads your legs apart, drawing his hips back to thrust as deeply into you as he can. You moan out from the feeling, arms scrambling onto the wall as you try to keep your balance. You mumble something under your breath, the words coming out louder than intended due to Jungkook's thrusts.

"What's that?" He asks, turning your head back to him. "I didn't hear you."

You bite your lip. "Said 'Surprised you didn't go for the ass.'"

"Don't have lube on me. I figured I'd use your ass next time we fuck." You clench down on him at his words, and he catches on. "You didn't really think this would be the only time we'd fuck, huh? Nah, pussy's too good. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but this isn't going to be the last time I fuck you. You'd better get used to feeling this dick up in your guts." His smirk looks more like a sneer as he sees how his words affect you. "I'm so lucky you ended up being such a gross pervert."

"I-I'm not a perv," you insist.

"Yeah? Only a pervert would like this nasty shit. You get so wet just from us being mean to you. It's pathetic."

His wet mouth is sucking hickeys on your neck, his free hand coming down to toy with your clit. "I'm gonna cum," you groan out. The desperate sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the janitor's closet. You were sure Taehyung could hear every sordid sound, your own whines and moans included, from his position just outside the door.You feel his smile against your skin as he pushes you closer to the precipice. 

You don't get the satisfying end of riding out your orgasm, however, as Jungkook immediately pulls out and away. Your back meets the door, hands held above your hand in a singular grip. His hand comes down on your spasming cunt, and you close your legs out of instinct. "Open your legs right fucking now." Your legs fly apart, another hit making you flinch in pain, legs twitching as Jungkook continued slapping your pussy. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you were left trembling from the ruined orgasm.

He pulls you in, giving you some sweet kisses as you gathered your breath. "Do you want me to keep punishing you? Or are you ready to be rewarded?"

Your face is something akin to a pout. "Reward."

"Gonna be a good girl for me now?"

"Yes," you sniffle, pulling Jungkook back to you. 

He steps between your legs, hoisting you up against the door and fucking you against the wall. In hindsight it probably wasn't the most inconspicuous idea, but it didn't seem like that was Jungkook's priority. His priority was absolutely destroying you, building your orgasm fast. His mouth pants against yours, swallowing your moans greedily. "Disgusting little brat, you like me pounding you like this?"

"Yes! Feels so good," you moan out, squealing as Jungkook carried out his mission of destroying you.

“Like having your precious Taehyung outside, listening to you getting fucked?” He snickers, the laugh dark and ominous. “Let him hear those slutty noises you’re making for me? How well you take my cock?”

“Jungkook-“

“Yeah, say my name. Let Tae know how much you like being used by his friends,” Jungkook says, words coming out in a snarl. “Say my name while I fuck you like a whore.”

“Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungko-ook!” Your moans are breathy, pleasure making your guts twist as your orgasm approached.

"Gonna let me use this pussy whenever I want, too? Offer me your holes whenever I want?"

"Yes, you can do whatever you want with me." You felt like you were going to burst any second. "I'll be good for you."

"Go on, cum on my dick again. Prove to me you're a good girl."

It hits you like a tidal wave, Jungkook's kiss devouring your whine as he continued to fuck you against the wall. He cums in the condom, hips staggering against you as he pins himself against you. Eventually he lets you down, leaving you light-headed. Jungkook kept you standing, your legs wobbly. His fingers comb through your hair, fingers massaging your scalp. "You were so good for me. I knew you would be. Just had to fuck the bratiness outta you."

He adjusts his clothes to look like he didn't just ruin you in a closet, and knocks the same pattern as before. Taehyung opens the door, giving Jungkook a knowing smile. "I'll keep watch now," Jungkook says, trading places with Taehyung. You're left alone with your boyfriend, who immediately pulls you into his arms, seeing how bad your legs were shaking.

"Jungkook fucked you really good, huh?" Taehyung chuckled, admiring what a mess you had become. Your hair looked closer to a bird's nest, and your clothes were all wrinkled and in disarray. Your thighs shone under the dim light of the closet and you legs were wobbling like a baby deer. Anyone who saw you right now would know you just had an intense round of rough sex.

You nod, low on energy. Still, you turned around and put your hands on the wall, presenting yourself to him. "Your turn."

"Mm, my baby still isn't satisfied, is that it?" Taehyung groans, squeezing his erection over his slacks. "Still need my cock? You can barely stand, y'sure you can take it?"

You nod adamantly. "Wanna be a good slut for you, sir. I'm always ready to take you."

"Jungkook really fucked the bratiness out of you, huh?" Taehyung finally starts to pull out his dick, and you feel the anticipation build. "You never run your mouth like that with me, baby. You really wanted to be used like a toy, huh?"

"Yes," You hiss out the word, feeling Taehyung thrust into you. "Wanna be useful."

"I'm sure Jungkook's so grateful you let him use your pussy to get off," Taehyung purrs, deep thrusts still managing to make you wince in overstimulation. You were already beginning to feel that delicious soreness you were starting to crave. "You're such a good slut for me."

His hand starts touching your clit, and you're left whimpering in his arms. "Please, sir, I can't-"

"You're supposed to be my girl, aren't you?" Taehyung's voice is as harsh as his touch as he grabs your face, forcing you to look his way. "So shut up and take it."

You nod fervently, kissing him as you let him guide you to the edge. Taehyung buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking on whatever skin was exposed to him. It was like he was re-claiming you, reminding you who you really belonged to. As if you could forget. “Fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna last long. Feels like I was hard forever having to listen to Jungkook fuck you like a bitch in heat.”

“H-He was the bitch in heat.”

Taehyung laughs. “There’s the brat from earlier. I must be lucky you’re so obsessed with me. You’re my good girl.”

“Fuck, sir, please let me cum-“

“Gonna cum again, already? Fuck, you’re so greedy.” Taehyung’s teeth sink into the skin at the juncture of your neck, groaning as he bit you. “Cum for me. Cum on your favorite cock.”

Your orgasm washes over you in a tidal wave as you do exactly as you’re told, and it only takes a few more strokes before Taehyung is pulling out and cumming on your ass. You’re left panting and slumped over the wall, head dizzy and limbs worn out. Taehyung peppers soft kisses on your face and neck, giving you time to come back down to Earth. “You did so good for us, baby,” he praises. “You feeling tired?”

You nod dumbly, letting out soft sighs at the feeling of Taehyung lips. “Yes, sir.”

“Mm, we’ll take care of you.” Taehyung smooths your hair, looking at you with an admiring gaze. “Let’s get our girl taken care of, hm?”

[slamminslamminmcgill]

brother i swear to you your saul/reader fics got me creaming for my life I've never been fed this well ever in my entire life. may i make a request/suggestion? I'd kill for you to write some overstimulation involving one of those remote controlled vibrators while on working hours, that shit would slap so hard from you omfg

hi!!! hope ur ok w/ a drabble for now :3

You swore one of these days you were gonna look for a new job. 

Today was not that day. You had left work yesterday carrying a delicately wrapped gift box, courtesy of your boss, who told you very specifically not to open it until you were home. And that you were to come in to work the next day wearing it. You remembered being flattered by his generosity, excited all the way home about what it could’ve possibly been. 

And then you opened the box and remembered your boss was a gigantic pervert. 

Still, you figured you didn’t fare much better, especially since you were the one standing outside your job with a vibrator inside you. It was off, thank god. You considered it a stroke of luck when you realized you had no idea how to turn it on. You fished your phone out of your pocket, about to text him that you were outside, when the front door swung open.

Saul Goodman was there to greet you with a shit-eating grin. “Right on time, kid! Come on in.” He was as giddy as a kid on Christmas, and it was fucking irritating. You thought about the pros and cons of cold-cocking him in his smug face, but figured great sex and steady income were worthwhile rewards of being his sexual guinea pig.

He pushed open the doors to his office, beckoning you inside. When you entered, he grabbed your wrist and pinned you to one of the columns. You were understandably caught off guard, which he saw as the perfect opportunity to start kissing and sucking your neck. His other hand wasted no time in getting to your crotch. He pulled away to ask you, “So… did you follow my instructions?”

You yelped, your mind racing to find the answer to his question. “Yes, sir. It’s… it’s inside.”

He pressed two fingers down hard against your clothed sex, searching for the toy. He gasped in delight when he felt it. “Good boy. Can I see?” He asked, letting go of you and stepping back.

He had you trained so perfectly. The second his hands left your body, you were scrambling to undo your belt. You slid your pants off and braced yourself against the marble before spreading your legs. Between them was a hot pink vibrator nestled inside you, just barely touching you where you needed it.

Saul gave a wolf whistle at the sight of you. “God, I knew this was a good idea. Though, just one more thing…” He reached into his pocket and grabbed some small plastic thing. You couldn’t quite tell what it was, but you figured it out seconds later.

He clicked a button and the device ignited inside you. Your knees buckled and you grabbed the column for support, already a whimpering, disheveled mess. Just how he liked you. He stepped closer to you, forcing his leg in between yours to keep you upright, and grabbed your chin.

“Look at me,” The command made you feel even weaker than you already were, “Here’s how today’s gonna go. We’re gonna have all our scheduled meetings in the morning. Then we break for lunch, and do walk-ins after. Regular day, right? Except you’re gonna keep that toy inside you the whole time. And you’re gonna do exactly what I say, when I say it. Understand?”

You nodded frantically. Verbal confirmation would have taken too much brain power.

Saul was not impressed. You knew he expected a verbal answer. “Hm. You wanna act like a brat today? Fine,” He tapped the up button on the remote a few times, and the vibrations grew stronger. You shrieked, back arching, knees buckling, your body practically liquifying but for his firm grip keeping you up. “Act like a brat all you want. But I’m in control here, and I’m not gonna let you forget it.” He turned the vibrator up to its max level. “Now I’m gonna ask you again. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” You cried, already on the precipice of an orgasm not 5 minutes into your shift. “Yes, fuck! Yes, Mr. Goodman! I understand!”

“Good boy,” Saul answered, clicking the vibrator off and letting you go. You whined at the lack of closure. He’d snuffed out your flame before it barely got to burn. “Get dressed. First client is gonna be here in a minute.”

You couldn’t even do that in peace. When you bent over to pick up your clothes, Saul flicked the vibrator on and off a few times just to watch your body jolt in response, laughing to himself each time he did it.

This was gonna be a long day.

[star-going-supernova]

Prompt: it Aint a Glamorous Life, but it will keep you out of jail!

This is tumblr generated prompt number 62! This one had me stumped for a bit, so I tried to go in a really unexpected direction. It’s shorter than my usual, but I’m pleased with how it came out! As you may have noticed with one of my other ficlets, I chose King as Cassie’s last name because I think Cassie King sounds really cool and I haven’t seen any commonly used one, lol.

Blood Money

There was nothing in the world Theodore King wouldn’t do for his daughter. She was all he had after Bridget left. So he’d worked hard, taken any job he could just to stay afloat, and when he discovered his current place of employment was far from clean…

He’d taken the bribe. 

Fazbear Entertainment’s history was stained to begin with, so he hadn’t quite been surprised, exactly. Not about that. How well they’d been hiding it—that’d been the surprising part. 

It wasn’t often, but every now and then, someone got a little nosey. They snooped around and saw something they shouldn’t have. And those sorts of things were secrets that FE really couldn’t afford to let become common knowledge.

Maybe they could’ve been bribed too, except the nosey ones were usually the suspicious ones, the conspiracy theorists, the whistleblowers. They didn’t accidentally stumble on this stuff like Theodore did. They went looking to prove their theories, and they wanted to share their findings. 

And how defiant and proud they were to have been proven right. But only up until they realized they’d doomed themselves. 

Theodore didn’t relish this rare aspect of his job, when code zero came through on his pager. If his fellows thought anything odd about the code that only he ever received, and that he immediately set aside his other work for, they never spoke up about it. Perhaps they, too, had found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, only unlike Theodore, they swore only their silence. 

Theodore, rather, had found his silence and cooperation could be bought—at a high price, but one his superiors were willing to pay. Employees like him were hard to come by, apparently. 

There was mutually assured destruction in it now, he knew. If any of this side of FE got out, he’d be arrested as surely as his bosses. His fellows, with their carefully averted eyes, would have no charges brought against them. 

Theodore was the only one who dragged the snoopers down to the rancid trash heap with its hungry dwellers. The pits of bright-eyed, sharp-fingered, “defective” bots. They were like pigs; there was never any evidence left by the time they were through with their victims. 

Rare as it was, it did happen, and it had happened enough times since Theodore got involved that he felt only mild pity and an apathy where once there had been guilt.

In truth, Theodore thought these people to be foolish. Yes, very foolish indeed. They came to the pizzaplex and went digging for bloody secrets. And they found them. Yet they never seemed to consider that an already bloody company would be willing to do bloody things to keep those secrets quiet. 

He took his blood money without remorse. It was hard, being a single father. He needed flexible hours to take care of his young daughter and actually be in her life, and all the high-paying jobs were the sort that demanded twenty-five hours of your day, eight days a week and on Christmas to boot. Before this… arrangement, he’d barely been making ends meet, having to work another job on top of the one at the pizzaplex. 

But doing his superiors’ dirty work payed well. Well enough that he and Cassie lived in a house now, with a backyard and nice neighbors and a bedroom just for Cassie. Well enough that he’d been able to quit the other job and be there for Cassie more. Well enough that Cassie no longer had to worry about kids making fun of her secondhand clothes and worn-out shoes, and could instead feel excited-nervous butterflies about going to camp this summer. 

Theodore King would do anything for his daughter. That included sending people to their deaths at another’s order. He didn’t know if that made him a bad man or not. 

But according to Cassie, he was the world’s best dad. 

He supposed that wasn’t a bad trade off. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Honestly, you weren’t all that taken aback to see Tangerine standing just outside your house, casually lights the cigarette hanging from his lips; acting as though he wasn’t accumulating a small puddle of blood beneath him that was seeping through your lovely welcome mat. His well tailored clothes were unsalvageable, his skin was tainted with dirt, mucus, injuries of varying sizes and sections of his hair were mattered with his and someone else’s blood. Yet he still looked inexplicably handsome…for a British twat that was.

“Would you kindly mind in getting the fuck off my welcome mat, your getting your blood all over it.” You told him just as you opened the front door to be greeted with the sight of his broad backside. Tangerine looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened when they landed on your frame, “Oh fuck, this was your house? If I had fucking knew that beforehand I would have seen myself elsewhere.” You gave him a tight lipped smile, you and Tangerine didn’t have the best of relationships; you couldn’t pinpoint where it began but it felt like you could never withstand to be within one another’s presence. Needless to say your only common contact was his Thomas the tank engine obsessed brother, Lemon.

“Then why didn’t you?” You questioned, not actually wanting to know how the fuck he had found where you lived if it wasn’t under the pretence of killing you once and for all. His stance seemed to softened as his flicked away his cigarette butt into the open street, breathing out the last traces of smoke from his lungs. “I didn’t have anywhere to go.” Tangerine’s voice was vulnerable as he stared out across the street, unwilling to gauge your reaction for the very same reason you never gauge his when you knew he hit a nerve. You were both so alike in the most minute ways that it was easily missable by both parties involved, resulting in countless misconceptions where as something as simple communication could’ve been the easy clear cut solution.

“I was still high on adrenaline after my mission that when I finally came off the fucker, that’s when my injuries became a problem I couldn’t ignore.” You stayed silent, allowing for Tangerine to continue his story, “I knew I couldn’t go to the hospital and I didn’t want to bother Lemon on his day off that by the time I realised where I was I…found myself looking for you instead.” He finished, looking you at you briefly before looking away once more, still bleeding by the way. To your knowledge Tangerine wasn’t a man of vulnerability but more so one of brutality and profound swearing that would make a sailor blush. So to witness his guard fall before your very eyes was the equivalent to seeing pigs fly, it was against everything you’ve ever known but it was a welcoming shock to your system being able to witness such a sight.

“Say somethin’ then, I feel like a right fucking twat right about now.” Tangerine uttered, his guard coming back up when he realised that he had just allowed himself into being vulnerable within your presence and on your own doorstep too. You blinked back into reality and saw how much paler he had gotten from how he looked at the beginning of all this, all the while coming to the unspoken acknowledgement that you had to act quickly before you were left to drag his unconscious body all by your lonesome. Sighing, you opened the door wider for your unwilling guest, “get in,” you gestured with your head towards the hallway that stared back at you two, “and do it quick before anyone gets the impression that I’m hiding a dead body.” You added as Tangerine smiled at your invitation before wincing when he moved a certain way, causing his wounds to become more aggravated and quickly rushing for the comfort of your home.

All the while you grabbed the now ruined welcome mat and shutting the door behind you though not before giving the streets a quick glance over incase of some unwanted onlookers from perceiving the scene before them however they saw to fit their unreliable narrative. You were well aware of how unliked you were by the elders who lived across the street, you were well aware of how ever since you’ve moved into the neighbourhood they’ve done nothing but try in catching you doing some scandalous act that they could get you convicted for. Every morning they would scowl at you and every evening they could be seen on their front porch, watching your house like old decrepit hawks, hungry for an ounce of flesh to be thrown their way. ‘Desperate cunts’ you’d called them. Though recently they had to be relocated to a care home due to their inability to look after themselves as health complications began to arise.

You soon found Tangerine cooped up within your bathroom, stripped completely of his shirt as he helped himself to the first aid kit you had tucked away in your mirrored cabinet he was now staring himself in as he patched up some of the more significant wounds. You normally wouldn’t be caught dead staring at the one person you seemingly hated as equally as your elderly neighbours. Yet you found yourself immobile at the doorway, admiring the scars from previous jobs he had taken on and the way his muscles would react, tensing and almost flinching away from his own touch as he disinfected a particularly nasty wound upon his hip.

He must’ve caught your reflection because he only halted his movements to stare at you through the mirror, “you know instead of staring how about you either take a picture or lend a hand in patching me up, yeah.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as to hide the fact that you were caught for your blatant starting, “your a grown man Tangerine, you should be able to take care of your own boo boos by now and besides I wasn’t staring, I was critiquing your sloppy job of patching yourself up.” The male only seemed to laugh at your attempt of a cover up as he went back to patching himself with the unreliable aid of your mirror. “Suit yourself, love.” He replied as he reached for the gauze,“suit yourself.”

[gracemyface]

Daryl: The Professional (Daryl Dixon x Young! Reader)

Chapter Six

Key:

Y/n - Your Name

Y/l/n - Your Last Name

Y/e/c - Your Eye Color

Y/h/c - Your Hair Color

Series Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

Summary: Things are unsettled at camp after the fight and Jim's breakdown, and the Reader finds themselves too worried about Daryl to really enjoy any of the festivities. Meanwhile, Daryl finds himself struggling in the city, wanting to return to camp but not wanting to face the wrath that would come from leaving Glenn behind. They're finally reunited when, in a turn for the worse, the camp is attacked by a wandering herd of walkers...

Warnings: Major Character Death, Canon Typical Violence/Gore, Some Angst.

A/n: I will have no real Lori slander. She did some shitty things, yes, but she loved her kids and the other women’s kids. Anyway, how do we like Daryl’s pov? I really, really struggled with it bc he’s such an asshole (I mean that affectionately.)

Shit really goes down this chapter. You guys have a slight breakdown, but it's been a long time coming. Character development ig?

also, do we want more stories from when the Reader, Daryl, and Merle were together?

Word Count: 4.8k

The first time Daryl ever saw you, the blood-soaked orphan with a far-off stare who’d barricaded themself into the corner of his father’s cabin, he felt a prickle of annoyance travel up his spine. 

He didn’t know why you were out in the woods, or what had happened to result in you being covered in the crimson liquid (though, if his father hadn’t just been eaten in front of him, he would’ve assumed it was a pig slaughtering gone awry), or how you got into the cabin. He, especially at that moment, hadn’t even cared. He knew immediately that Jess wouldn’t have left you behind, cursed his father’s half-brother and his bleeding heart, and reduced you to nothing in his mind but another mouth to feed — a weak, sniveling mouth at that. He wasn’t ever keen on being around kids, smart-mouthed teenagers even less, and he didn’t really want to have to handle the collapse of society with anybody who couldn’t fend for themselves. 

You showed him, though. You really did.

In those few days when it was just you and him after Jess took that fall off the truck when you officially became his responsibility, you proved you weren’t weak. You adapted to the end of the world quickly — learned to be quiet when you needed to be, to be useful most of the time, and to just eat whatever he managed to catch. And then you took on Merle in a way that nobody really dared to, most nights ending with you sending his older brother a heated gaze over the fire, the flames reflecting in your y/e/c eyes. Now, he still wouldn’t leave his life in your hands if he had the choice, even after you shot that man clear in the head back in Fontana and walked it off, but he knows for sure that he can trust you to handle your own — and, even if he doesn’t really appreciate being wrong, he can’t help but admire you for it… though, he’d never admit it aloud.

Standing in a long-abandoned lab building in an overrun Atlanta, the redneck stares down at the whimpering kid they picked up with pure disdain. His lips are curled back over his teeth in a sneer and his eyes are slanted as he stares down, internally picking apart every little thing the teenager does. That is what he expected from you.

What a shit show this little expedition-slash-rescue mission has turned out to be.

Not only was Merle not where they left him — currently down one hand and on the run through the sweltering pit of hell that has become of the once lively city — but now they’ve lost Glenn, too. If Daryl’d known that the younger man was going to get taken hostage by a bunch of wannabe gangsters and hold them up like this, he’d have left before these assholes could’ve even thought about getting into the truck with him.

He wanted to be the hell out of dodge three hours ago. “Them guns are worth more than gold. Gold won’t protect your family or put food on the table— you’re gonna give that up for that kid?”

Both of them give him a stern look, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, the kid is nice and all, and half the camp (including you) would be really pissed off if they came back without him, but they can’t give up half of these guns. It’s either Glenn or a better chance at survival and he picks survival.

“If I knew we’d get Glenn back, I might agree. But, you think that Vato across the way is just gonna hand him over?”

Daryl nods in agreement. There’s that, too. They have no idea for certain if giving up the guns will even get them what they want. It might just be a trap that gets them all killed.

“You calling G a liar?” Their hostage— Miguel, was it?— inserts himself into the equation.

His mind once again drifts to you. If you were kidnapped, you wouldn’t be this stupid. You’d be smart enough to not mouth off to the people who held you captive, smart enough to figure out how to get yourself free, and smart enough not to make promises on his behalf that he might not be able to keep. You’d be mute, sitting there and watching your captors with those dangerous little eyes of yours.

This kid, though? Christ.

“Are you a part of this?” He crosses the room and leans down over the kid, slapping him lightly. “You wanna hold onto your teeth?”

T-Dog continues on, ignoring the violence. “Question is, do you trust that man’s word?”

“No, question is what are you willing to bet on it? Could be more than them guns. Could be your life. Glenn worth that to you?” He holds Rick’s gaze.

Truth be told, Daryl doesn’t quite get risking why anybody would risk their life for someone who wasn’t their blood. Glenn wasn’t any of their brother, son, or cousin — he was just some (former) pizza running kid that was on the highway, in the right place and at the right time when Shane spearheaded the group and lead them off the highway. Merle is probably the only person in the world that the redneck would even think to sacrifice anything for.

(Except maybe…)

“What life I have I owe to him. I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could have walked away, but he didn't.” Rick loads his revolver and sticks it in his pocket. “Neither will I.”

Daryl scoffs in his soul. “So you’re gonna hand the guns over?”

“I didn't say that.”

The sheriff's voice has now taken a quality that has his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

“There's nothing keeping you two here. You should get out, head back to camp.”

T-Dog winces from his injuries, rubbing his head with his hand. “And tell your family what?”

Daryl and Rick stare at each other for a beat, a silent conversation happening between them, before he sighs shortly and reaches for a weapon. You’d probably be really pissed at him if he didn’t try, and he doesn’t want to deal with an emotional teenager right about now.

“Come on, this is nuts.” The boy sits back down when Daryl holds a hand out to him. “Just do like G says.”

The redneck ignores the whining boy and starts loading a shotgun. He needs this to be over as quickly as possible, and he needs the gangster assholes to go down without a fight.

He made a promise to come back alive, after all.

──────────────────

Jim has a heatstroke. Or, at least, that’s what Shane keeps dismissing it as. With the current state of the world, it could’ve very well been post-bite fever or a psychotic break.

He’d been digging for reasons unknown and unintentionally ruined the good news of the incredible amount of food they were going to have tonight in the process. Shane went all cop on him, which didn’t really surprise you after what happened with Ed, and the whole ordeal ended with Jim being tied to a tree after ranting and raving about how he left his family for dead. Everyone seemed to move on after that, the mothers dragged their children off to do schoolwork and a few of the other adults started setting up for the fish fry, but you found yourself a little nauseous.

It looked like he was digging graves, and why did he go into such intense detail?

Hiding away in your tent, you lay down on top of your sleeping bag and throw a ball of socks up just to catch it as it comes down. You hoped the action would be therapeutic — something to take your mind off the image of Jim’s poor family and how it bleeds into the image of your own — but the socks lack the weight of a real ball, and you can’t get out of your head.

Had washing your parents’ blood off your skin absolved you of any responsibility in their deaths? Were you doomed to end up like Jim?

Would you also, someday soon, have a psychotic break?

“Hey, Y/n?” Lori’s soft voice drifts through the thin fabric of your tent as he speaks timidly.

For a beat, you decide if you want to be silent and let her think you’re asleep. “Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

“Shane’s gonna teach Carl and Sophia to clean fish. He wanted to know if you’d join.”

You already know how to gut an animal. Squirrels, rabbits, and even a deer, once — Daryl had always been very big on you learning how to survive in the time you spent together, and that learning involved getting over the grossness of animal entrails very, very quickly. You were living through the end of the world, he’d reasoned, you don’t have time to be weak-stomached.

And you don’t want to spend time with Shane. That’s at the top of the list of things you don’t want.

But you’re not going to tell the woman that you dislike the man she was sleeping with, so you say, “I already know how to.” 

There’s another beat of silence, and you can see the shadow of her willowy figure shift through the wall of the tent.

“Can I come in?”

You, certainly not expecting that, pause. 

“Uh, sure.”

You sit up and push yourself to the back of the tent, watching as Lori unzips the door and ducks down inside. She’s got sincere eyes. So sincere that when she crouches down in front of you and meets your gaze, your skin starts to crawl.

“You feelin’ okay?”

You hate that question. Something burns behind your nose and you snuggle, shrugging pitifully. “Dunno. Pretty shit — what happened to Jim, I mean.”

Lori nods thoughtfully. “Yeah… it is.”

She looks a little pale. Surely, the death of children doesn’t sit well with a mother, even if they aren’t her own.

“I, uh, I understand that you’ve had a rough time.” The brunette doesn’t seem to know what to say to you, and you almost feel bad. “I mean, I don’t. Not really. And you don’t have to tell me anything.” She stresses that point with a sweep of her hand. “But I know something must’ve happened because everyone has something happen.”

You nod along, fiddling with a loose string on your jeans. 

“I— Daryl and Merle don’t exactly seem like the easiest people to talk to, so if you ever need anything, me and Carol are right here, okay?”

“…okay.”

She smiles softly at you, and you spare one back. Lori and Carol are perfectly nice women, but you almost prefer Daryl, who has put a ban on personal questions and mostly ignores the emotional side of everything. You know you aren’t going to go to Lori and tell her things.

You wouldn’t even know where to start. 

“Y’know, Carl likes you? Like, a lot.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm. Sophia, too.”

Deep down, you know this is her trying to coax you out of the tent, but you let it boost your ego anyway. There’s something so incredibly normal (and endearing) about being looked up to — even if, sometimes, it gets a little annoying.

“And I’m guessing they would really, really like it if I went out there and helped Shane gut fish with ‘em?”

“Yeah. They would.”

Pursing your lips, you stare at the woman through slightly narrowed eyes before sighing and giving in.

“Alright…”

She grins widely and it kind of makes up for it.

Shane seems to be getting frustrated with the ordeal when you arrive, correcting Sophia’s stance with a tightness pulling at his smile as Lori gently nudges you along. You take the seat next to him without a word, pretending you don’t notice how he and the woman exchange a look, or how Carl shifts toward you on the log. It’s a hundred degrees out and he’s attached to your hip already, watching with those big blue eyes of his as you silently grab a fish off the pile and get to gutting it. 

You can remember the steps well: descale, cut a slit in the belly, remove the guts and fins and head, and rinse. 

“Look at you.” Shane compliments in a drawl, finally getting Sophia to do what he needed her to. “Like a swan to water.”

With a wrinkled nose, you drop fish innards into a bucket and turn to look at him as you shake the blood off your hands.

“Yeah, well, you spend enough time with the Dixons and you’ll learn how to gut anything.”

Something dark flashes across his face but you don’t care. You turn back to the fish, making a little joke to Carl about fish eyes that makes his entire face scrunch up and draws a long ‘Ewww’ from his lips. The laugh that bursts from you rattles in your bones.

──────────────────

“Hey, Dale, you got a?—“ The question dies on your lips as, upon stepping over the threshold of the RV, you stumble upon Andrea.

Every cabinet in the mobile home’s little kitchenette is open and she appears to be rooting through them desperately. At the sound of your voice, she pauses, looking up at you like she’s an animal and you just caught her looking through your garbage cans.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” You retort, shifting your weight. “Do you know where Dale is?”

“No, but I wish I did.” She heaves a sigh and runs her hand through her hair.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen the woman quite so frantic. Somewhere down the line, Andrea Harrison was a lawyer, and it’s hard to imagine her standing in the front of a courtroom, prim and proper and ready to kick some ass, with her standing in front of you like this.

“Can I help you any?” You ask just as Dale finally responds to his summons, stepping over the threshold with a quiet, “Did I hear my name?“

“Yeah.” Both you and Andrea answer at once, but you step back and gesture to her. “I think she needs help first.”

The blonde spares you a nervous smile.

“Alright. What do you need?”

“Wrapping paper, color tissue, anything?”

(Okay, maybe you regret letting her go first. At this rate, you’ll never get that bandaid.)

You stare at her with furrowed brows and a scrunched-up face. 

“Seriously?” Dale shares in your confusion, glancing warily between the two of you. You offer him a shrug.

“How could you not have any?”

“Had I been informed of the impending apocalypse I'd have stocked up.”

Your snort at the old man’s dry words earns you a particularly derisive look from Andrea. “What? It’s the end of the world and you need wrapping paper. Shoot me for finding that amusing.”

“It’s Amy’s birthday tomorrow.” She says it like you should know that (probably because you should.) “I've been marking days on the calendar just to make sure.”

Your eyes wander over to the calendar on the wall of the RV as she lifts the necklace that she stole for a gift to her sister. Surely enough, Andrea has been crossing out the days on it. 

Despite what you expected, there is no big circle over Amy’s birthday or anything, but you then figure that would probably ruin the surprise. Your older (in age and not maturity) blonde friend had come to you earlier in the week and lamented to you about the situation. While you’d always known that Andrea was the older of the pair, you didn’t know just how much until Amy filled you in on the ghosts of birthday past; she told you all about the older blonde’s broken promises to return to the nest for her little sister’s birthday, about how, more often than not, college and other things got in the way. She must’ve seen the calendar, too, and been disappointed by the apparent lack of acknowledgment that it was growing closer and closer to her favorite holiday.

“You can’t leave a gift unwrapped.” 

“Oh, it’s good that you got something. I think she thinks you forgot.” That was told to you in confidence, but you stretched the truth a bit, so it isn’t that bad, right?

Dale and Andrea both look at you for a moment before he nods his head slowly. “Alright. Deep breath. I’m sure we’ll find something.” He turns back to face you. “What did you need?”

As if a lightbulb turned on over your head, you lift up your hand and the handkerchief that’s been wrapped around your minor flesh wound. “Carl cut me while I was demonstrating. I just need a bandaid.”

The old man shakes his head at you and steps around Andrea to go get the first aid kit, muttering to himself about the youth of today and how you’re going to lose your limb if you aren’t more careful.

──────────────────

As the grating summer sunlight fades into the darkness of dusk, taking the heat with it, the whole group (excluding the men in Atlanta and Ed, who refused to show his face around camp) sits down for the biggest meal most of them have had since the end of the world.

Cold beer and water are handed out as serving trays full of fried fish get passed around between the clusters of people who gather around their fires, the murmur of their happy chatter and soft laughter cutting through the blanketing sounds of the night. After the big fight and Jim’s foreboding breakdown, it’s nice to see everyone smiling and knowing that nobody’s going to ruin it this time — even if you can’t really find yourself joining in on the festivity.

“Pass the fish, please?”

“Here you go.”

“Man, I missed this.”

Sitting down on the end of one of the logs and feeling a little removed from everyone else, you wrap your coat tighter around your frame and let yourself worry about the group of men who went into the city. You don’t know Rick Grimes too well — he didn’t exactly give you the chance to get to know him, did he? — but you do know Glenn, T-Dog, and Daryl. You know that they’re very capable men and that, in certain circumstances, most of them have more experience with geeks than you do, but you can’t help but worry. The sun has long since set, meaning that the men, wherever they are, are stranded out in the dark. You don’t really remember the nights from when it was just you and Daryl (a combination of many sleepless nights and too-high adrenaline made the memories blur together), but you know enough to know that things do get worse when the sun goes down; geeks aren’t exactly quiet, but they can really sneak up on you when there’s no light and your body wants to sleep.

Experienced or not, they're going to be tired eventually, and, if Merle doesn’t try to kill them, something else will.

“Hey, Nervous Nellie.” Shane draws your attention to him by nudging your leg with his boot, “Yeah, you— how's the fish?” 

Your eyes flit down to the bottle in his hand. Beer surely makes him a little looser.

“It’s alright.”

The ex-cop cocks a brow and echoes your response. “Alright?”

You really wish he’d just leave you alone. 

Truth be told, you don’t really like the food. It’s bland and it tastes fishy in the worst way, and (even if you’ll admit that you’ve been eating it like a death row inmate getting their last meal as if indigestion isn’t a thing), chasing it down with water isn’t helping. Sure, it’s better than the food you’ve been eating for weeks — better than measly mushrooms, canned rations, and whatever game the Dixon brothers could hunt up — but it’s not great.

“It’s no cheeseburger.” You shrug, stabbing some more of the pale flesh with your fork. “But beggars and choosers, and all that.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Morales interjects lightheartedly, tipping the head of his beer in your direction. You smile a thin-lipped smile.

The arrival of his long-lost best friend has made Shane rather… unsettling. Whether it’s because of how cold Lori has been acting toward him or his superiority complex, you’re not sure. You just know that you want Daryl to come back, even if that means putting up with Merle for the rest of his life.

“I’ll be right back.” You dismiss yourself quietly to Jacqui when the temperature changes and your discomfort proves to be too much. She nods absentmindedly, too engrossed with whatever Dale is saying to really respond, and takes the plate from you when you hand it over. 

You slip away into the darkness pretty easily, retreating to your tent in search of a sweatshirt, a breather, and maybe some reassurance that the redneck you’ve grown to like could survive whatever came at him. 

With a press of your hand, the nylon flap of your tent opens and you step in. Pausing briefly to turn on the little electric lantern on the floor, you then scan the small space with your eyes, looking for anything that might pass as something with long sleeves. There’s already a pile of dirty clothes forming in the corner and most of your stuff is strewn about, but you ignore that and grab for your bag— an old duffel that belonged to Daryl’s deceased father. Curling your fingers around one of the fraying straps, you pull it up and toward you, rooting through the stuff in there until you find it. A red and black flannel.

Somewhere down the line — just like most of your stuff did — the flannel belonged to one of the Dixons. It hangs loose on your frame, the sleeves too long for your arms and the length stopping mid-thigh. 

Buttoning it up, you cuff the sleeves and fiddle with the ends for a few minutes until they sit in a way you like. 

Just as you’re able to breathe a deep breath and feel remotely at peace, a blood-curdling scream, followed by many more, cuts through the quiet dark of the night. Adrenaline is the first thing you feel, your heart beating in your ears and your lungs squeezed of air, and worry is the second, fear for your friends forcing your legs to move and push out of your tent again. Though, before you can do that, you’re greeted by two rotting hands shoving their way through the opening and grabbing at your shoulders in a surprisingly iron grip. The shock of seeing a geek so up-close causes you to stumble back, but your ankle twists harshly — sending you sprawling to the ground with the monster right on top of you. 

“Oh, god!” The cracked scream leaves your lips, the now-shattered glass from the lantern digging into the skin of your leg.

The walker is — or, was — a man. It gnashes its teeth and pushes toward you, the sound of the bones clacking together making you whimper. Is this what your parents felt in their last moments? Jim’s wife and kids? Very quickly, your arms start to tremble under the weight of the much larger body, and you decide to not resign yourself to the same fate. Craning your head, you search for a weapon. 

There’s no way for you to reach your gun right about now, which you can’t really shoot with one hand anyway, but there has to be something else — anything you can use.

As the walker claws desperately at your shirt and groans miserably, you have to make the rash decision to remove one hand from its chest and give yourself less leverage to reach blindly behind you. Panicked breaths puff past your lips and your head starts to feel light as you grab at your stuff. Your fingers tightening around your sleeping bag, you give a harsh tug and hear the faintest sound of objects clattering around. The walker pushes down on your forearm as your fingers touch what feels like the hilt of a knife. Daryl must’ve thrown it in with your belongings a while back.

Letting out a strangled and panicked sound, you take the weapon and stab the walker with all your might.

The steel of the blade pops the walker’s eye upon entry and slides right through to its brain. Closing your eyes and mouth, you whip your head to the side as a mixture of ink-like blood and gel-like eye fluids drip down the hilt of the knife and onto your face. Its body, now eerily still and limp, falls on top of yours, making it hard to fully inhale as stuttered, panicked breaths rack your chest. As the sounds of gunshots and screams continue from outside the tent, you roll the body off you and force yourself up on your knees, gasping breaths through frightened sobs as you try to tug the knife out of the dead head.

As you pull it free, another walker stumbles into your tent and tries to pounce on you. Before it can bite a chunk out of your body, the tent door is being pushed open and a bullet is shattering its skull.

“Y/n!?” Glenn’s voice is just audible over the deadly mixture of your heartbeat and painful ringing in your ears, his eyes wide as he hopes what he just shot was actually dead before he shot it. “Y/n?!”

“Glenn.” You whimper, kicking the other dead body away from you. Your alleviation that the men from Atlanta are alive is short-lived.

“Oh.” He breathes in relief and slings the gun over his shoulder, reaching out to hold your forearms. “Oh. You’re okay. Oh, god. That’s good.”

“Daryl— is— is Daryl?” You can barely form words, your fingernails digging into his skin.

“Daryl’s fine. C’mon. We have to get out of here!”

He ushers you to your feet. The pain in your calf worsens as you stand up on shaky legs, every movement causing the glass to shift in your skin, and you stumble forward into his chest.

“I can’t— I hurt my leg.” You hiccup and Glenn sighs softly, wrapping one of your arms around his shoulders so he can half carry you.

“I have you.”

Glenn leads you out into the chaos. What’s left of camp isn’t very different from what Sedalia was like all those weeks ago — bodies, both rotting and fresh, littering the floor and the once-contained fires roaring loudly against the stones. Howls of anguish and sobs fill the air. 

“Y/n! Y/n!” Daryl’s southern drawl echoes through the remains of the camp, worry, fear, and anger lacing his words. “Where the hell is the kid?!”

The survivors are all gathered around the RV, and you watch as he shoves Shane lightly for getting in his way.

“Where are they? Did you leave them alone?” Rick tacks on as T-Dog tries to get in between them, his son in his arms. “Has anyone seen Y/n?”

As the moonlight casts a blue shadow on your blood and grime covered skin, you let go of Glenn and find it within yourself to shout. “I’m right here!”

The redneck’s head snaps over to you and he abandons his antagonism against the ex-cop in favor of running over to you. Daryl grabs your face in both of his hands and starts scanning over your features.

“You alright? Any of this blood yours?” He whispers gruffly.

“I’m… I mean I hurt my leg but otherwise I’m fine. No bites.” Your hollow voice cracks slightly as you speak, and your gaze flits away from him as he bends down to check your leg. “Is that?…”

Andrea sits, crumpled at the foot of the door into the RV. In her lap is Amy. Sweet Amy. Amy, who missed texting more than most and still had this beautiful ability to wonder in her twenties. Amy, whose birthday is tomorrow.

Amy, Amy, Amy.

Your blood runs cold and your stomach drops so fast you might fall over as the older blonde’s bloody hands brush across your dead friend’s pale skin. 

“Don’t look.” Your guardian orders once he’s followed your gaze, but it’s too late.

Tears, burning hot and long coming, spill out of your eyes and down your cheeks. Daryl sighs and, because the attention isn’t on either of you, lets you curl into his chest, his hand rubbing down your back in an attempt at comforting you.

It’s useless, though. 

Andrea’s sobs filter through the air as a heavy silence overcomes the rest of the group, each and every one of them consumed with the weight of what they’ve lost.

──────────────────

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@stawvberrymilktae / @vilaneiie / @letxhyng / @fnicolpcab / @redneckstrash / @dixonarchives / @howlerwolfmax / @spenciepoo338 / @luvelyxp / @quietly-scrolling-through / @btsiguess-kpop / @littledxve / @mich1551-blog / @anunstablefangirl / @furiousfandomenthusiast / @ineedmorefanfics2 / @justababygaysworld /

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Mechakoopa

Debut: Super Mario World

So a very polite anon has humbly requested we write a post about Mechakoopa! They are apparently this person's favorite, so today's their lucky day! See I don't like to brag but, I'd definitely consider myself as part of the top 100 most qualified people to talk about Mechakoopas in the world! And who am I to turn down such a request?

Now the 90s you see, were a turning point for good Mr. Bowser here. With a brand new clown-helicopter thing to pilot around you might think he's all set, but what kind of self-respecting villain would he be without filling his evil lair with a number of Evil Wind-up Toys based on himself? So he does exactly that- a whole fourteen years before Mario stole his idea, mind you!

Yes, you read that right! Despite their name, Mechakoopas are tiny mechanical versions of Big Bowser himself, not just any run of the mill Koopa, which explains their green heads and funky hair! You know how Koopa is actually Bowser's Japanese name? Yeah! They could've localized them as Mecha-Bowsers, but Mechakoopa just flows nicer doesn't it? And he is still technically a Koopa!

"Yo, somebody rang?"

No!! Not you, Mecha-Bowser from Super Mario Sunshine (2002)!! You'll get your turn eventually! Geez! Anyway. Where was I. Oh! Yes!

This is the obligatory part of the post where I'm like “Get a load of this funky guy”! Get a load of this funky guy! Instead of reinterpreting Bowser’s design very literally in toy form, the Mechakoopa is very much its own beast, with its funny beak and little funny legs. Our aforementioned anon mentioned the wind-up key, and oh, what a wind-up key it is! And of course the raisin d’eclair- the fantastic little googly eyes! Oh where would we be without those googly eyes?

Naturally though, Bowser doesn’t just use his toys to populate his spooky castle- he always has to keep a few on his person! So he chucks them at you in the game’s final boss fight, but he didn’t account for the fact that, in this game only, Mario can throw upwards! Oh no! His one weakness! Being pelted with plastic!

By the by, I’ve always thought the original Mechakoopa sprite from Super Mario World looked super funky! The hair almost looks like its on fire! And I like the goofy grin. 

The Super Mario World cartoon decided to interpret this sprite by turning him into a horrible little man. No, I don’t want this! He shouldn’t have arms!

The Mechakoopa’s next appearance in a mainline Mario platformer was in New Super Mario Bros. Wii, where they act... exactly the same as they do in Super Mario World! Cool! This basically established them as modern Mario enemies, but there isn’t much to say other than that!

Like all our posts about Common Mario Enemies, it would probably be boring if I just listed off their every appearance, so I will just bring up the ones that are worth mentioning. For example, Super Mario RPG! In this game, Bowser’s strongest special attack is Bowser Crush, which summons a giant Mechakoopa to stop on foes! According to the Player’s Guide, this Mechakoopa was a top secret weapon developed by Koopa researchers... to stomp flowers and scare butterflies! Wow! That is so so evil! These big guys would definitely live up to the name “Mecha-Bowser”! 

“Hey guys, are you talking about me?”

NO, we are NOT talking about you, Mecha Bowser (with no hyphen) from Mario Kart: Double Dash (2003)’s Bowser’s Castle course! Get the heck outta here! Gosh, some people just don’t know when they’re not wanted!

I am sure after all this you are wondering, they may be mechanical toys but can they do math? The answer is yes obviously! This is Mechakoopa from Mario Party Advance, and they’re a mathematician! They invented Mechakoopa’s Theorem, the very real mathematical theorem that we all used in school! Everyone give them a round of applause!

I’d like to bring up their appearances in the Mario & Luigi games, not because it’s particularly notable, but because of how much I like their sprite and idle animation! Look at the wind-up key spin around and the eyes go up and down! So cute! Oh, and also because in the Superstar Saga remake they replaced the Mecha-Chomp enemies (may god rest their souls)!

Super Mario Maker 2′s final update was an epic win and a #1 victory royale for Mechakoopa fans anywhere, since it not only added Mechakoopas to all four main game themes, but also two brand new variants: the Blasta Mechakoopa (in red) and the Zappa Mechakoopa (in blue)! 

As you might expect, they can Blast (missiles) and Zap (lasers) respectively! I’ve no idea why they added these random functionalities to Mechakoopas specifically, but they’re a lot of fun and some of the most unique projectiles in the game! Zappa? I barely know ‘a! 

Oh, and I almost forgot! They are in Super Smash Bros. as well! Bowser Jr.’s moveset is a treasure trove of little references to Mario gadgets, and even though Bowser no longer tosses these guys from his Clown Car, his son has taken up the job! Only in this game, Mechakoopas explode. Uh oh! They didn’t do that before! Still, I really like popping a Mechakoopa out of its Mechakoopa Compartment just to see it wander around the stage. It’s fun!

Now that’s all I have to say about good old Mechakoopas, but I’d like to give a special shoutout to this guy in particular- the Micro Mecha-Bowser, from Super Mario Galaxy! For a long time, I assumed they were just Mechakoopas with a different design... But this definitely looks like a beefed up version of the Mechakoopa, with their big goofy teeth, their pig nose and their funky cross-hair eyes! These dudes can breathe fire too, so they really are more like Bowser! And if there’s a Micro Mecha-Bowser, there’s gotta be a normal one!

“Whassup? I heard somebody call my name!”

Harumph! Nobody called you, Mecha-Bowser from Super Mario Galaxy (2007)’s Toy Time Ga- Er... hold on a second. You actually are exactly the person I was talking about after all! My mistake! Though I do wish you’d at least give us a heads up when you’re gonna show up, given you’re the size of a small planetoid!

Yeah, the Micro Mecha-Bowsers are named after this big robot from Toy Time Galaxy, Mecha-Bowser (not to be confused with Mecha-Bowser or Mecha Bowser)! Though I have to say, there isn’t much family resemblance! He’s so blue and un-turtle like! Still, this must’ve been my favorite mission in Galaxy as a kid- I’d replay it over and over again just because the idea of climbing on a giant planet-sized robot and dismantling it piece by piece was so cool! It was like Shadow of the Colossus before I knew what the heck that was!

Well that’s about the extent of the Mechakoopa family. Isn’t it fun? There’s a moral to be learned here, and it’s that, uh... little wind-up toys are very charming! Um, I suppose. Look, writing conclusions is hard! 

Mechakoopa

[queenofbaws]

So i know that it's such an obvious choice but I wanna see some “you’re so dumb.” [insert fond smile here] with chrashley, but with Chris saying that to Ashley instead of the other way around lol

definitely more than six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

Outside the lodge, the wind had stopped screaming. That didn’t mean it had stopped altogether – it hadn’t – but now it was little more than the occasional whistle rattling its way down the chimney and into the fireplace, making the weak flames shudder and dance. It was a far cry from the storm they’d run through before, and now that the place was finally starting to warm up, their faces were left tingling in the same way their ears rang; in absence of the cold, in absence of the noise.

The grandfather clock upstairs gonged to sound the hour, but neither had it in them to count. Off in the kitchen, Sam was rummaging around, opening and closing cabinets, but neither had it in them to get up and help.

Numbness had taken hold, and it showed no signs of letting go.

They sat huddled on the couch, ruining the upholstery as well as the hardwood with snow and mud and, in Ashley’s case, blood, leaving stains for the Washingtons’ to clean up instead of the other way around for once. Normally they would’ve been spread out, sure to keep a pillow or a pile of snacks between them…but now those anxieties seemed a lifetime away, so they slumped against one another as though personal space was only a myth that overrated authors wrote about in books. It was simply how they’d fallen after climbing out of the basement, and now that the cushions had bent beneath them, it seemed unlikely they’d move any time soon.

“You could’ve told me, you know.”

Chris hadn’t been anywhere near sleep, hadn’t even been in the same zipcode, but it still took a considerable amount of willpower to wrench his eyes from the fireplace. Something about those low, dim flames had lulled him into a calmer place, a softer one, and when he finally managed it, he found he couldn’t’ve looked Ashley straight-on if he’d tried. She’d set her head against the front of his shoulder, a spot that didn’t quite count as his chest, her cheek squished to the lining of his sweatshirt. It was the closest he could remember them ever being. Physically, anyway.

“I could’ve told you…?” he asked, clearing his throat when he heard the sandpaper rasp of it in his own ears. “What, that I thought Josh was ordering a lot of dead pigs lately? Suspected he was furnishing some sort of hands-on haunted house experience?”

Instead of laughing like she normally would’ve, Ashley yawned. Her eyes were shut, and from that angle he could see the delicate curve of her eyelashes laying on her cheeks. It wasn’t a view he got often. He tried to savor it…despite the way the left side of her face was quickly darkening with the purple-black bruise of a black-eye. “That you liked me.”

“Oh.” For once in his life, Chris saw no point in stammering through a denial or backpedaling to a safer distance; maybe he was just tired, maybe the fear of the night had snapped something somewhere in the back of his brain, maybe he’d just decided there wasn’t any point to it since Ash had curled up beside him and synched her breathing up to his. He didn’t even shrug, but that one was mostly because he didn’t want to disturb her. “I guess…I dunno. I figured you had to have known. You were just trying to let me down easy or whatever. Friendzoning by any other name.”

She did laugh that time, but it was small and tired and accompanied by the pressure of her arms wrapping around his middle. “Okay, um, wow. How was I supposed to know any of that, Chris? You gave me…literally no clues to work with.”

“I…okay, no, what?” Now that her arms were around him like that, he moved even less, refusing to risk her letting go. It took him a moment – mostly because he was just that sore – but he got his arm up onto the back of the couch, letting it hang around her shoulders in theory more than practice. “I have given you nothing but clues. My whole life has been clues, Ash. Whenever we’re hanging out, I’m pretty much blinking ‘I love you’ in Morse Code, so honestly, I don’t appreciate you sitting there saying I’ve been slacking in the clue department.”

“Oh my God,” she sighed, moving juuust so, giving him the barest peek of the exhausted smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “You’re so full of it.”

“Full of it? Okay. Full of it. I’m full of it,” he joked. “I’m sure you, like…get goodnight texts from all of your friends, then.”

“I mean…that doesn’t count.”

“It d…it doesn’t count.”

“No! Because, like…it doesn’t count as a goodnight text if it’s just you signing out of a late-night conversation. Then it’s just polite.”

Oh, he had to risk it. He had to. Chris pulled back a smidge, craning his head to try and meet her eye. She kept hers closed, but the way that smile kept twitching at her mouth made him think it was less because she was sleepy and more because she was embarrassed. “It’s just polite. Okay. All right. I’ll follow that logic if you’ll answer me this: How many late-night conversations are you having with people, then?”

“Depends.”

“Depends.”

“Yeah, it depends! On a lot of stuff. Like…”

“Uh huh. Not…not like we’re having late-night conversations every night.”

Ashley was quiet for a beat, then nestled a little closer against him. “Not every night…”

“Okay,” Chris snorted. “Just three hundred and sixty-three out of the year. You’re right. No, you’re totally right – it’s not every night. Definitely not.” Slowly, very slowly indeed, he let his arm slide off of the couch and onto her shoulders, his hand sliding down to trace vague shapes against the side of her arm. “A-and I definitely never, y’know, asked you to Homecoming…”

“As part of a group.”

“Or Prom…”

“As part of a group.”

“Or came up with dumb excuses to just show up at your house for ‘homework assignments’ or ‘to borrow a book’ or ‘because I was just passing by and wanted to pet your dog.’”

Even though she probably couldn’t see all the air-quotes he was making with her eyes shut like that, Ashley giggled as though they were clear as day. “Those were all totally legit excuses, though!”

“Oh good God.”

“What? They were!”

“Jesus-pleezus. You are…” He rolled his eyes, still chuckling, and let his hand move up from her arm to tuck her hair behind her ear, a move he hadn’t even let himself daydream about before now. Part of him expected her to open her eyes at that, or shiver, or, or something…but she didn’t. If anything, she just relaxed another notch, not slumping against him so much as melting into him, and…and even though the windburn and cuts on his face smarted something terrible, he couldn’t help but smile. “You are just so dumb.”

“Hey!”

“No, you are,” he laughed, his fingers slowly carding through her hair. “You are just so, so dumb. Probably the dumbest smart person I’ve ever met, if I’m being honest. But you know what?”

He couldn’t say what had done it that time, but Ashley did open her eyes then, tilting her head a touch. “What?” she asked as she looked up at him, her laughter tapering to a soft, quiet sound in her nose.

“I didn’t exactly catch on that you liked me either, so…” He gave his other shoulder, the one she wasn’t resting on, a little half-shrug. “That probably makes me pretty dumb too.”

“Yeah, well…I think we all knew that,” she joked, and when he squeezed her just that much tighter, the tired smile that’d been trying to poke through finally took root, her face lighting up like a sunrise. The lodge seemed warmer than it ever had before.

[hollybollybingbong]

Albus Dumbledore is the worst.

Albus Dumbledore was written to be a hero, and that's what makes him such a good villain. Almost everyone in the Wizarding World trusted him and thought he was so incredible and amazing, but in reality, he was playing a brilliant game of chess, using them all as his pawns.

How? Let's start from the beginning with Tom Riddle.

Dumbledore first met Tom when he was eleven, and even then, you could see the warning signs. Dumbledore did too. He saw that Tom was dangerous and unstable, and Dumbledore, being Dumbledore, wanted to give him a chance at Hogwarts.

But, Dumbledore, also, being Dumbledore, was the only one who saw who Tom really was, and only "kept an annoyingly close watch on him." He saw Tom Riddle, at the age of eleven saying "I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want," and did not think to do anything about it.

He said to Harry in Chamber of Secrets that, "help will be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it," yet, here we have Tom Riddle, who desperately needed help, and did not get it. Could Dumbledore have prevented Tom Riddle from becoming who he was? I'm not sure. Could he have helped him more while he was at Hogwarts? 100%

Next up, Sirius (and a bit of Remus)

One thing I never understood while reading the books was why Sirius had to spend twelve years in Azkaban when there were literally potions that forced you to tell the truth.

The truth is, unsurprisingly, Dumbledore wanted him there. By keeping Sirius in Azkaban, there was no way he could adopt Harry (who was legally his), and ruin Dumbledore's perfectly thought out plan of manipulating Harry. Dumbledore was a high-ranking member of the Wizengamot, if he managed to get Snape off, he surely could've gotten Sirius free too.

But unlike Snape, and Remus, and Hagrid, and Harry, Dumbledore couldn't use Sirius. Remus was a werewolf with no job prospects in the Wizarding World, and no Muggle qualifications either. He spent twelve years alone, as he watched his friends die or get sent to Azkaban. But then here comes Dumbledore, who gives him a job and a home when no one else would. And suddenly, Remus is loyal to Dumbledore.

Hagrid, a half-giant, was kicked out of Hogwarts in his third year for something he didn't do. But Dumbledore comes along and suddenly Hagrid has a home and job, and owes it to Dumbledore, ensuring his loyalty.

Even Snape, Dumbledore saved him from a lifetime in Azkaban prison, securing his loyalty too.

But Sirius, Sirius was different. He saw right through Dumbledore and his manipulation. He was a rebel and chose his path. A path that didn't involve Dumbledore, which is why he was stuck in Azkaban for twelve years, despite him being innocent. Because him being around would've messed up Dumbledore's plan to raise Harry to die, because there is no way in hell that Sirius would've allowed that to happen.

Finally, Harry Potter, himself.

Harry escaped death at the age of one and then was essentially kidnapped by Hagrid on Dumbledore's orders. While there's no proof, surely James and Lily would've written a will, especially considering they were living through a war with their son being the target for the greatest dark wizard of all time. I believe that Dumbledore pulled some strings (because remember, he was a member of the Wizengamot, and despite not holding the title of Minister for Magic, he was as good as, especially considering how incompetent they were), so he could be in charge of Harry's living arrangements and manipulate him further. Sirius Black was his legal guardian, being godfather and all, and yet Hagrid had "orders from Dumbledore," so he got stuck with the Dursleys.

Harry grew up in this abusive home where he was unwanted, neglected, and bullied, so when he eventually finds out about the Wizarding World, he sees it as a home, a safe haven, away from the Dursleys. He feels grateful to the Wizarding World for saving him from them. And when he has to go back at the beginning of summer, it's a reminder that it can all be taken away, so when Harry has to sacrifice himself to save the world he's come to love so much, of course, he does! Because why wouldn't he? It's his home.

Dumbledore could've left Harry with Remus, or the Weasley's, or the Longbottom's, or literally any other family, but the Dursley's made Harry easiest to manipulate.

And before anyone mentions Lily's blood wards, Dumbledore says in Order of the Phoenix: "You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, there he cannot hurt you."

There was no reason for Harry to grow up in an abusive household, isolated from the Wizarding World, but it made Harry an easier pawn to manipulate in Dumbledore's game.

Similarly, when Harry is in school, he rewards Harry's saviour complex through house points. In Philosopher's Stone, the trio very clearly go against McGonagall's orders and put themselves in dangerous situations to 'save the day.' But instead of facing any punishment, they are rewarded via the House Cup, and Dumbledore is buying Harry's loyalty.

It's always Harry being the one to put himself into dangerous situations, never Dumbledore. Chamber of Secrets, Harry and Ginny both nearly die, but oh, thanks to Dumbledore's phoenix the day is saved! But wait, wasn't Dumbledore there the first time the Chamber was opened? Was there nobody else in the entire Wizarding World who could fix this mess, without having to rely on a twelve-year-old???

Prisoner of Azkaban. Why were Harry and Hermione the ones to rescue Sirius? Why couldn't Dumbledore do it himself? Goblet of Fire. You're telling me the 'most powerful wizard in the world' couldn't break the magical contract? In all honesty, he probably could, but he said it himself, he wanted to see what would happen. He was using Harry as bait. McGonagall seems to be the only person who cares about this poor boy's life. And then we have Order of the Phoenix. Where Dumbledore isolates himself from Harry, gets Snape to teach him Occlumency instead of doing it himself, which leads to Sirius's death, which I believe was planned (to an extent).

And at the end of Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore comes 'clean,' saying that the reason he ghosted Harry for the entire year, was because 'he cared for him too much.' That he cared more about Harry's happiness than the safety of others, that he put Harry's life above the life of innocent people. He was telling Harry, who watched his godfather die in front of him, and blamed himself for it, that him being happy would lead to the deaths of others. Dumbledore's exact quote was, "What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy." And of course, Dumbledore said this, because he knows Harry has a tendency to sacrifice himself for others, and as a result, he'll choose to die when the time comes.

Dumbledore kept Harry's inevitable death from him for sixteen years, five while he was at Hogwarts. And guess what? By this point, Harry was wrapped so tightly around Dumbledore's little finger, and wouldn't say no even if he could.

Harry Potter was raised like a pig for slaughter, by a man he trusted. And this makes me so angry. Harry Potter was seventeen when he walked into the forest alone, more than willing to die. He was seventeen when he and his friends fought in a war against people twice their age. He was seventeen when he saw some of those friends for the last time, watched them die fighting a war that none of them had seen the start of.

He was fifteen when he watched his godfather die before him, and blamed himself for it. He was fourteen when he watched Cedric Diggory die at the hand of Voldemort. He was twelve when he had to fight a basilisk and Tom Riddle single-handedly while trying to save himself and eleven-year-old Ginny Weasley. He was eleven and having to find and protect the Philosopher's Stone, the first 'test' of many. He was a child battling an adult's war, with no choice in the matter.

Dumbledore manipulated them all, so he could get children to fight his battles for him.

[awesomerextyphoon]

I love your writing. May I have Loki x Reader? The reader is a sweet, delicate dreamer. Loki has come to conquer the world. He saw her and wants her to become his Queen of Midgard. He kidnapped her. She pleads with him to let her go while she is tied to the bed. He caresses her hair and says she will love him (he doesn't want to use the scepter on her).

***Can I have White Reader x Loki, please? Loki just escaped from the Helicarrier. He saw the reader who is a sweet and innocent creature. Loki doesn't want her dead when he will start battle. Loki kidnaps her and locks her up to keep her safe. When he wins, Loki tells her that she will become his queen.***

Hi! I decided to combine the prompts and make the reader plus-sized. I hope you enjoy! 

His Match

Pairing: Dark!Loki x Plus-Sized Female Reader 

Summary: You’ve tried to live by your grandmother’s rule  of being kind to others, even when the world gives you the middle finger. What if a Norse God decided reward you by becoming his Queen?

Word Count: 1,745

Rating: 18+/Mature

Warning: Kidnapping, Implied Dub/Non-Con, Angst, and some Violence

A/N: Thanks goes to the amazing @angrythingstarlight for beta reading this!

Loki was walking around New York City, scouting Stark Tower making sure the final preparations of his plan was perfect when something, or rather someone, caught his eye.

She walked out of what looked like a women’s clothing store with a forlorn smile. She was plumper than the average female Midgardian last time he frequented the realm. His eyes did not miss the enticing curves that lied beneath her clothes despite her efforts to ensconce herself into the background.

She was a vision.

Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments and it felt like time stopped. His heart quickened in his chest and a rush of blood surged to his groin.

He had to follow her. His Elskan.

“Barton, tell the others I’ll be out for a few more hours. Proceed as planned.”

–––––

He found you entering a rather destitute apartment complex. Its lights and foundation were a bit unsound and gave off a seedy ambience.

Loki grimaced at her living conditions. When he ruled Midgard, she would have only the best.

Casting a simple concealment spell, Loki entered her fairly small apartment. She began mixing ingredients together for what looked to be ‘chocolate chip cookies’. He smiled as he inhaled the sweet aroma knowingly; Asgard had only recently started consuming the sweet. She soon laid out a batch of thick, scrumptious cookies with a satisfied expression.

They reminded him of better times when he and Thor would sneak into the kitchens and swipe confections from under the baker’s nose. Loki chuckled at the memory; those were the days.

Not ten minutes after she placed the last cookie onto the cooling rack did her phone ring. It was her mother. Loki felt dread coming off his Elskan in waves.

Loki could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation, if you could call it that. Her mother constantly nagged her about her weight, life choices, and her ‘pathetic’ attempts to get over her ex-boyfriend. His heart broke as he saw tears begin to fall and the croaking of her voice as she bid the odious creature goodnight.

Several minutes after she cried herself to sleep, Loki entered his Elskan’s bedroom. He spied her diary on the nightstand and decided to read a few pages.

He was fuming within two minutes.

How dare that caustic pig sow treat his Elskan, her own daughter, in a such ghastly manner! Her ‘perfect’ sister always slighting and reminding her on how ‘she’ll never be good enough for anything’ and her father’s callous indifference to her cries for help and solace only added to his rage. Combined with the way her ex-boyfriend, the repugnant gnat, treated her (he cheated on her with someone who ‘wasn’t built like a blimp’ and ‘the only thing you thing you had going for you were your tits’) and he wanted to speed up the invasion just to watch the horror become engrained onto their faces.

And yet, she endeavored to treat everyone with kindness harkening back to your grandmother. She strived to be the one light in one’s otherwise miserable existence.

Well, she can be his light as his Elskan and Queen.

Loki took a deep, cleansing breath. He needed to stick to the plan. When he conquers Midgard, she will be their queen. She will grace the undeserving masses with her elegance and beauty and he will worship her every chance he got.

He just had to make her see it that way.

Gently, the light forest green glow of Loki's magic flowed from his hand to the crown of her head like a halo. He leaned in and kissed her cheek with a smile as he left.

He hated to leave her, but he had a realm to conquer. Though he hoped she’d enjoy the introductory gift.

––––––

You were in your grandmother’s living room; spacious yet comfy with all of her quirkiness and splendor included. It was odd since you haven’t been in her house since your parents sold after her death seven years ago. You tearfully smiled remembering all the good times you had with her, the only member of your family you gave you any true warmth or love.

Her piano was in the corner, barely aged a day with all the music sheets, pens, a light scratches you came to know and love. You took your seat and started to play the piano version of one of your favorite movie themes.

You were so engrossed in playing, you failed to notice someone materializing into your dreamscape.

“What a lovely tune! What is it called?” A smooth, honey-tinged voice broke your concentration.

You turned your head and saw what had to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He was tall (6’ 10” / 2.08m) easily towering over any man you’ve ever met. He had smooth alabaster skin, light rose undertones with a little blue-red just under his eyes. His cheekbones were immaculate, somehow looked sharp and soft at the same time. He had thin lips with a fair plumpness to the bottom one. His slicked-back, shoulder-length Ponzu/Shadow Purple hair kissed his lean, battle-hardened physique (if the way he’s filling out his outfit was anyway to go by). All of this deliciousness was clothed in a casual Palm Green suit with a Glossy Black tie and shoes.

It took you a full minute to stop ogling him, “Wha-What did you say?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, my lady. I asked what you were playing.” His voice had hints of mirth which was odd considering his appearance. Most people in his league would give you a thinly veiled sneer of disgust, but he seemed genuinely interested.

“Um, well, it’s called Merry-Go-Round of Life from the movie Howl’s Moving Castle. It’s a favorite of mine. I used to play it all the time until…” You trailed off, not wanting to revisit how your grandmother died.

“You do not have to tell me if it brings you such displeasure.”

“Thank you, um…”

“Loki. Please, call me Loki.”

“Loki,” he inwardly moaned at the way you said his name, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Please, continue playing.”

And you did for what felt like hours, all while your sexy dream companion asked about your hopes, dreams, anything he could think of really. You in turn asked him about his life and interests; you even laughed at a story of his brother having to dress like a bride to get his hammer back.

You soon became enamored with Loki. It was refreshing to be noticed with actual interest, not ridicule or pity. He seemed to taken with you as well, if his gentle caresses and not-so-subtle lustful glances he gave you were any indication.

You were glad this was just a dream. You didn’t want your heart to break like last time.

Loki was about to lean in for a kiss when everything faded to black.

–––––

You jolted up from the mattress and screamed once you realized you weren’t in your room.

No, this room was…spectacular for lack of better word. It had high ceilings, large windows, ornate chandeliers, and magnificent balcony. Luxurious dark greens, gold, and black covered the room in splendor. Extravagant pieces of furniture dripped with precious stones metal worthy of queens or royal mistresses of old.

“What is this place?”

You tried to leave but was forced back onto the bed by a force field. You tried to take calm breaths just like your therapist taught you in order to make an escape plan.

No sooner did you calm down than the door open to reveal-

“Loki!”

Only Loki was wearing radically different clothing; looked like he walked right out of a fantasy epic. And yet, his smile was enchanting.

“What am I doing here? I need to go back home.”

He tutted in response, “That would not be wise, Elskan Mín. This world is mine now and this is safest place to be.” He was right. His brother’s team of desperate souls were no match for his cunning and Chitauri Forces. Midgard’s pathetic leaders gave up in less than an hour once their beloved ‘heroes’ were defeated, broken, and laid bare before them.

“You can’t be serious, Loki. I need to leave.”

“And go where? Like I said, this realm is mine now. That rat poison of a dwelling is no more and I have dealt with your ‘family’ as needed.” Loki smirked at the memories. It gave him extreme joy squeezing the life out of that worthless pig of mother, breaking every bone in your father’s body one by one, and leaving your ‘perfect’ sister alive with partially rotten skin. Not even the scavengers or maggots would find or want the remains of the scurvy insect of an ex-boyfriend, though he was still alive..just barely.

Well, at least until he decided on how to destroy the blight of creature.

Though he did make sure to leave two of your real friend were treated well. You needed to have someone to talk to while he was away.

You gazed into his Spearmint colored eyes in one last attempt, “Please Loki! If you love me, you’ll let me go!”

For a split second, you could’ve sworn you saw hurt in his eyes and he glided across the room. You back hit the headboard in you sad efforts to get away from him.

“Elskan Mín, I promise to always love, cherish, and worship every part of your glorious body. You will become Midgard’s queen and my goddess. No. One. Will. Ever. Demean. Or. Slight. You. Again.” he punctuated each word of the last sentence with soft, open-mouthed kisses to your face, neck, shoulders, and collarbone.

You tried to fight him, but it felt so good. His touches sent shots of lightning to your core; plus his lips and fingers were cook to the touch provided excellent contrast to the spike in heat.

You started crying realizing how pathetic this was, to have the first person to profess such feelings be a kidnapper. You were actually contemplating whether or not he was telling the truth.

Loki sensed your sorrow and kissed your tears away. “I know this might be ‘difficult’ at first, but you will love me in time.” He hoped he did not have to use the scepter.

You thought about your dream and all of the effort he was putting into this. It was frightening, but it came from a place of love.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay.

–––––––

@lookiamtrying @jtargaryen18 @sapphirescrolls @jobean12-blog @sweeterthanthis @gotnofucks @mcudarklibrary@saiyanprincessswanie @golden-ariess @navegandoaciegas @stargazingfangirl18 @opheliadawnwalker3 @tilltheendwilliwritee  @imanuglywombat @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @navybrat817 @anyatheladyclown @buckysbunny @nacho-bucky @donutloverxo @stephanieromanoff @threeminutesoflife @angrybirdcr​ @angrythingstarlight @chixkencxrry @hurricanerin @marvelfansworld @the-soulofdevil @captain–barnes @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thebanprincess @winteralpine @leslie2898 @buttercandy16 @propertyofpoeandbucky @hevans-angel @thorfanficwriter @afriendlyblackhottie @avintagekiss24 @syntheticavenger @phant0m-queen @tuiccim​ @blueberrythor​ @river-soul @justthehiddleswrites @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

[thefanficmonster]

Strictly Professional

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: HUMOR, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A slip of the tongue leads Corpse to make an unexpected confession which leads to him getting lectured by his best friend. That’s all you need to know, the rest shall unfold before your eyes.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request! I’m so sorry it’s been so long overdue but here it finally is and I really hope you come across it and read it. If so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

I’ve buried my head under my arms, resting it on my desk as my ears are still violated by the hollering coming from my headset. I don’t know what in me snapped out of nowhere or what caused the slip-up, but what matters is that it happened and now I’m in some hot water. I’m practically the soup everyone in this Discord call at the moment will be eating for dinner tonight, getting a real kick at my expense - some even having the audacity to be mad at me over it - ahem, Rae, ahem - but bottom line: I won’t live this down easily.

“Hey everyone! What did I miss?“ Sykkuno, who was running late and missed this entire debacle makes an appearance. If it were any other occasion, I’d be overjoyed to hear he’s finally joining us, but his question of what he had missed renders me only able to cringe and wait for my friends’ next move.

“Sykkuno!“ Rae exclaims ecstatically, “Oh, strap in, imma tell you what you missed...“

“No, you won’t tell him, Rae.“ Toast cuts her off, sounding uncharacteristically serious, especially when taken into account how hard he was laughing just a moment ago, “This is Corpse’s tale to tell, don’t spare him the shame of telling it one more time.“

And just when I thought this fucker would prove himself to be a true friend...

“Oof, this sounds serious...“ Sykkuno says to fill the silence I purposely let linger just so I don’t give these bullies the satisfaction of hearing my embarrassment all over again even though they inevitably will.

“It is...“ I sigh with a heavy heart, hiding my face in the palm of my hand, “It’s really bad and embarrassing and...I’d rather not retell it at all let alone for a second time, but here it goes...“ I inhale as much air as I can as a method of gaining confidence before I start talking, “So you know MGK and I made a song. Yeah well, we’re gonna be making a music video for it and I asked Rae to be in it. Thing is, I wanted to ask Y/N first. Buckle up, this is where it starts going downhill: ok so I went over to their place so we could just chit chat an marathon a few movies like we usually do over the weekends but I also wanted to bring up the whole ‘hey, wanna be in my music video’ thing but didn’t know how. Mind you, we were drinking beers this whole time, might’ve had a few too many actually. Ok, we definitely had a few too many, but back on track: as I was blabbering and stumbling over my words, nervous as all hell and unable to string the simple question inside my head, all Y/N did was tilt their head and smile at me. You know, the odd thing is it was a genuine smile, not a drunken grin like you’d expect from someone on their fourth beer bottle. And then, out of the blue, they had the audacity to hit me with: ‘You’re so cute’ and I just sat there frozen for a few seconds. I mean, my reaction was on point - who wouldn’t react like that if their crush told them they found them cute. Anyway - I was like ‘what?’ and then, out of an even bluer blue, they freaking kissed me. I nearly had a heart attack damn it!“

“And he never asked them to be in the DAYWALKER music video!“ Rae clearly couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I didn’t get the time! I was out of there in the blink of an eye!“ I bark, feeling my face heating up with embarrassment and regret. God, I should never ask how stupid I can get because I keep surprising myself in the end with just how far my stupidity goes. It’s fucking insane.

“Oh God, poor Y/N.“ Sykkuno sighs, sounding only a tiny bit as though he’s about to laugh. I appreciate his self-control honestly, the rest of these fuckers were dying laughing as though our friends and my crush kissing me and me responding like I had an allergic reaction was the best joke to ever be told.

“Poor Y/N?“ I snap a little, “What about me?“

“Yeah, poor Y/N!“ Rae backs Sykkuno up, “Poor Y/N and poor me for the missed opportunity to me in a music video for a song of one of my best friends with another one of my best friends. Corpse, you better fix this!!“

“How?!“ I’m aware I sound desperate but I seriously wanna fix it just have no idea how to go about it. I mean, if this looney group of nine people over here don’t come up with a plan no one will so not all hope for me is dead just yet. Even if we all had only one braincell we’d still be able to figure it out - I mean, ten braincells ain’t as bad as it sounds. Truth be told, Y/N’s the real brain of the group and they’d most definitely be able to help me - so fuck the irony.

“Call them.“ Sykkuno suggests so casually as though it’s a no-brainer. I’d go as far as to say his nonchalance almost made me laugh. Has he forgotten who he’s talking to? 

“No way.“ I turn that down real quick, unable to even imagine the course of that phone call without cringing.

“No, Sykkuno’s right, call them right here right now. Ask them to star in the music video and then swerve the conversation to that kiss.“ Charlie’s suddenly decided to join the torturing being preformed upon me over here.

“What will I even say? I have no idea what to tell them!“ I complain, aware that I sound like a tantrum-throwing toddler but it’s really not my fault.

“Corpse. Corpse dear, listen to me, follow each word I say really carefully, ok?“ Rae asks, her voice now pitched as though she’s addressing an actual child. Yeah, that’s her well-known way of mocking me. “How about you say the actual fucking words. You know: ‘Hey Y/N, MGK and I are making a music video for DAYWALKER, wanna be in it?’“

I sigh, clearly defeated.

I pull out my phone, muttering to the crowd I’m about to speak in front of to be quiet as I put the ringing call on speaker, sweating like a pig the whole time. The room has risen in temperature and this hoodie has thickened, providing more warmth that’s more suffocating than comforting when it’s a hundred degrees outside. Or when I’m about to talk to my crush after THAT incident.

“Hello?“ Y/N’s voice on the other side rips me from my thoughts’ grasp, reminding me I’m on a mission.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?“ I reply a little too quickly. Not giving them the time to reply with anything, I continue: “Hey Y/N, MGK and I are making a music video for DAYWALKER, wanna be in it?“

DAMN IT WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SAY IT WORD FOR WORD?!?!

“Oh....“ They sound confused - and rightfully so - but then regain their composure finally, “I-I’d love to. Thanks for the opportunity, Corpse. I’m so happy you’ve made it so far. I’d be honored to be in the music video.“

Ok, that’s partial relief. Now - time for the second phase of this plan

“Uh....“ and there goes my whole vocabulary out the window, “You’re welcome.“

“Cool...cool...“ they mutter awkwardly, clearly looking for a way to end the call, “Um, by the way...this is strictly professional, right?“

No! No it’s not! Of course it isn’t! I’ve been head over heels for you for a year now, damn it!

“Of course, o-of course it is. No worries.“ I reply, once again, a little too quickly. Faster than I could’ve prevented it.

“Ok cool...well, text me the details....“ They once again trail off, hoping I’ll catch the hint.

And so I succumb.

“Will do.“ I sigh, “See ya.“

“See ya.“ They reply and hang up.

I’m left there staring at my phone screen with utter self-disappointment and frustration that’s so intense I cannot even express it in any way.

The whole lobby is at a loss of words too - all nine of them astonished by my stupidity. Fortunately though, Charlie is quick to pull himself together and speak up because God forbid Charlie ever falls speechless, then we’d be SERIOUSLY in danger.

“Corpse. You. Are. The. Biggest. Fucking. Idiot.“

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[liannelara-dracula]

S and T+ Kino react to their s/o singing Cola by Lana Del Rey?👀

Hi love,

What a wonderful idea! I love lana so much, you've come to the right place.

-Jade

Sakamaki

Shu:

“Ah, he’s in the sky with diamonds and he’s making me crazy. All he wants to do is party with his pretty baby.”

He didn’t know you were into this kind of music.

Now he will just tease you.

“Huh, guess you really are a lewd woman,” he’d smirk.

Reiji:

“C’mon, baby, let’s ride. We can escape to the great sunshine. I know your wife and she wouldn’t mind.”

He’s going to be confused.

And maybe concerned about what kind of music you’re into.

“Whose wife?” Reiji would look at you annoyed and mostly confused.

He’s just freaking out about if you’re with another man or planning to leave him.

Laito:

“My pussy tastes like Pepsi cola, my eyes are wide like cherry pies.”

It’s like asking to die if you sing this song and especially this line.

I mean really, you don’t want to end up in some weird situation with him. Or do you?

Anyways, he's going to be a complete perv.

“Does it really? I’d like to confirm that.” He’d wink.

Kanato:

“Drugs, suck it up, like vanilla icys. Don’t treat me rough, treat me really niceys. Decorate my neck, diamantes ices. Why, come on, come on.”

He’s interested in your music taste now.

Kanato didn’t think you’d be the type to listen to sensual music so you have him hooked.

And if you’re a good singer he’s going to want to hear a lot of other music.

“If you wanted hickeys so badly, you could’ve just asked me.”

Ayato:

“C’mon, baby, let’s ride. We can escape to the great sunshine. I know your wife and she wouldn’t mind.”

He was taken back by it but he does like it.

“Yeah, babe, we can definitely ride for sure.”

“Are you sure you’d be ready?” You teased which made him blush seeing you didn’t take him seriously.

Subaru:

“Ah, he’s in the sky with diamonds and he’s making me crazy. All he wants to do is party with his pretty baby.”

He wants to comment on something but would probably say it very fast or mumble it so you can’t hear him and he won’t repeat himself.

“You are pretty.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Kino:

“Drugs, suck it up, like vanilla icys. Don’t treat me rough, treat me really niceys. Decorate my neck, diamantes ices. Why, come on, come on.”

“Alright, let’s go for it,” he’d smirk.

“Oh my god!” You’d shout, being startled which caused him to laugh.

Mukami

Ruki:

“My pussy tastes like Pepsi cola, my eyes are wide like cherry pies.”

He’d tease you about it for sure.

“Really? I didn’t know that. Thanks for telling me.” He’d wink.

Would probably surprise you later on with really wanting to test that out.

Yuma:

“C’mon, baby, let’s ride. We can escape to the great sunshine. I know your wife and she wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah, babe! Sing it!”

“Yuma!”

“Look at my little pig singing such things. Didn’t know you were into that kind of music,” he’d grin.

Kou:

“Drugs, suck it up, like vanilla icys. Don’t treat me rough, treat me really niceys. Decorate my neck, diamantes ices. Why, come on, come on.”

Tease, what boy doesn’t?

But he would honestly sing with you cause he seems like a Lana fan.

“One more time, babe, from the top--C’MON BABY LET’S RIDE!!!”

Azusa:

“Ah, he’s in the sky with diamonds and he’s making me crazy. All he wants to do is party with his pretty baby.”

He doesn’t actually get the sexual part, he just thinks your voice is pretty.

Hopes you will sing more often.

“Sing it . . . . again, Y/N.”

Tsukinami

Carla:

“Drugs, suck it up, like vanilla icys. Don’t treat me rough, treat me really niceys. Decorate my neck, diamantes ices. Why, come on, come on.”

He is interested, seeing that you would sing something like that.

Wants to see more of this side of you.

“But I do treat you nicely. Unless you want to change that,” he’d smirk, hinting towards something intimate, causing you to blush.

Shin:

“C’mon, baby, let’s ride. We can escape to the great sunshine. I know your wife and she wouldn’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind either,” he’d grin.

“Ah!” You’d shriek, feeling startled as you’d quickly turn off the song.

♤ ˗ˏˋ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ˎˊ˗ ♤

♤ ©𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔~present day ♤

[y0itsbri]

shameless summer series - lifeguard au 🥽🩲🌊

debbie has her eye on the new lifeguard at the public pool. unlucky for her, said lifeguard already has his eye set on a different red-headed gallagher.

(think like s2 era)

also happy a.u.gust! @gallavichthings

words: 1.7k

"Debs, why do I gotta take you to the pool again this week? I thought you already fixed whatever was the problem with that blonde bitch," Ian whined, shoveling cereal into his mouth. Two tubes of sunscreen sat on the table in front of him.

"It's not about her anymore." Debbie retorted, like it was the simplest thing.

"Okay. Then what is it about?"

"Nothing!"

"Ask her boyfriend." Carl yelled over his video game in the living room, taking any opportunity to embarrass his sister.

Ian and Debbie's voices overlapped with a "Boyfriend?!" and "He's not my boyfriend-- Carl I'm going to fucking kill you!"

Debbie tossed a fork at Carl's head.

"Oh, now I'm definitely in," Ian laughed and winced before Debbie could throw a fork his direction.

--

The walk to the pool was relatively quiet aside from the rhythmic smacking of their sandals against the gravely pavement.

Debbie leapt a few strides, trying to outrun her shadow and failing each time. Ian chuckled, pulling the towel around his neck and swinging his keychain with the other hand.

Now that it was just the two of them, he tried again.

"Soooo," he drawled. "What's with this secret boyfriend?"

Debbie sighed. "He's not my boyfriend. Well, not yet."

"Hmm?"

"He's one of the new lifeguards since Justin got attacked by that dog last week."

Justin still owed Lip a beating for something or other so Ian was glad he didn't have to deal with Justin today, at least.

"You think this new lifeguard is a little too old for you?" Ian wondered.

Debbie shrugged. "Not like it matters much."

Ian couldn't argue with that logic. "I'll kick his ass if he bothers you, yeah?"

"Please. He doesn't even look at me. Even when I was fake-drowning." She skipped down the sidewalk, nearing the pool entrance.

Ian shook his head. His sister was something else.

--

After they set their towels down, Ian's eyes scoured the lifeguard chairs immediately. Too-tan-Toni, shrimp-speedo-Sam, and holy-fucking-shit. Was that Mickey Milkovich?

Ian hadn't let himself think about Mickey since he left town. But it was hard not to now that he was right in front of him again. Shit.

Mickey spread out across his chair, sunglasses low on his nose, watching the newcomers and he smirked before glancing back towards the pool. He blew his whistle and yelled at some kid to 'slow the fuck down unless you wanna bust your ass -- and I ain't fixing you up!'

Ian was brought back to the moment by Debbie's hands waving in front of his face. "Helloooo, earth to Ian! Sunscreen?"

Ian could've sworn he heard a chuckle coming from the direction of the lifeguard chair as he dug the sunscreen out of his shorts pockets. No. He was just being paranoid. His cheeks blushed regardless.

"Is that...?" Ian nodded his head towards the raven-haired man.

"Shhh!" Debbie slapped him on the arm. "Don't make it obvious!"

Ian rolled his eyes at her ridiculousness.

He covered Debbie's back and shoulders in the high resistance sunscreen before she took off towards the side of the pool with the diving board, eager to show off her skills.

He yelled after her. "Wait, fuck, Debs you forgot..." He glanced around.

His eyes definitely locked with Mickey's now.

Fuck.

Mickey hopped off his chair, waving his hand to dismiss his crowd of moon-eyed preteen girls and middle-aged women in scandalous bikinis. Ian would have shuddered at the thought if Mickey wasn't making a bee-line directly towards him.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuuuuuck.

"'Sup, man? Been awhile..." He smirked. "Raggedy Ann run out on ya?" Mickey bowed his leg out on his final step towards Ian, a little closer than he expected.

"Uhhh...." Real smooth, Ian. His words were bound to fail him again with the man in such close proximity to him, so he simply held up his bottle of sunscreen and shrugged.

"Toss it here," Mickey coolly demanded.

Ian was thoroughly confused, but threw it anyways. "What?"

"You heard me, Red. Turn around, I'll get your back."

"Protecting and serving the local ginger kids at the pool?" Ian joked weakly, finding his voice again.

Mickey huffed a breath. "Fuck the pigs. The only thing I'm protecting is your ass from a sunburn."

Ian was still confused as to why Mickey was offering to rub his back at a very public pool when he would have literally beaten his ass for looking his direction before.

All of Ian's thoughts subsided as he felt sturdy hands push the warming liquid around his shoulder blades, up his neck, then down his spine. Mickey's thumb digging deep into his muscles. He suppressed his urge to shiver despite the rising temperatures of the hot Chicago summer.

At least he thought he had suppressed it. A huff of air on the back of his neck said otherwise.

Mickey started pulling his hands away and Ian leaned back into them again. Mickey whacked the side of his head before tossing the bottle of sunscreen onto the chair in front of them.

"No free massages, man. Just sunscreen." Mickey licked the corner of his mouth and looked from the ground up to Ian's eyes.

He had to know how devious he looked. Ian didn't want to be presumptuous, but he just held eye contact.

"Unless," Mickey veered, slowly backing away, "the favor was returned in one way or another." He winked.

Ian stood, mouth agape as Mickey turned and waved again to the group of girls who still hadn't taken their eyes off of him. He hopped up onto his chair, whistle in mouth in no time like nothing had ever happened.

What the fuck was going on?

--

Ian spent the next few hours very much Not Looking At Mickey despite feeling a heated stare on him.

Even when he was having a breath-holding competition with Debbie, his brain couldn't stop the endless stream of Mickey Mickey Mickey.

After Debbie's third win, Ian felt like he was on the verge of passing out, so he returned to his towel, chugging his water bottle.

In a moment of weakness, he glanced at Mickey, only to find him already staring. Mickey tilted his head towards the main building and quietly dismissed himself to go on his break.

Ian knew.

He wasn't that stupid. He knew Mickey wanted him to follow. And he knew that it wouldn't be a good idea. All the while, his feet took him closer.

The building felt even hotter than the outside, the AC must've gone out and no one bothering to replace it.

This was a bad idea.

Ian was just about to turn around and leave when he heard the click of a lock.

"'Bout fuckin' time," Mickey stalked forward, eyes raking up and down Ian's body appreciatively.

Ian was putty.

He groaned as he let himself be pulled forward by the hips. "Didn't know you were a lifeguard?"

He sighed as Mickey toyed with the band of his shorts in between his tattooed fingers. His nails scraping dully against his sides.

"Dad got shanked. Family business went under. Had to go legal." Mickey's hands moved upwards as he raked his fingers through the sides of Ian's still-wet hair, gripping onto the back of his neck. Ian slid his own hands up Mickey's back, pushing his red tank top up with it, exposing his pale skin.

"Missed this." It was a whisper.

Ian attached his lips to the side of Mickey's neck briefly, tasting remnants of salt, chlorine, and sunscreen, before Mickey sunk down to his knees. Ian's hands were now gripping dark hair, and he was sure that the rocky pavement of the unfinished building had to be digging into Mickey's skin, but he made no sounds of discomfort.

Sure, he missed this, but he missed him more, not that he could say that.

--

On the walk home, the sun was hanging low in the sky and both Gallaghers' cheeks were sunburnt pink.

"Did ya have fun?" Ian asked, knocking his empty water bottle against the top of Debbie's head.

She scrunched her face up, but replied with some pep in her voice. "Yeah! Today the hot life guard actually looked at me! Maybe bringing you around was good luck."

No way in hell Ian was going to out Mickey to his little sister, let alone out himself. He put on a big-brother reassuring smile and changed the subject.

"Good luck for you maybe. I lost literally all of our competitions today!"

She giggled, "That was all skill, not luck. Frank's been helping me practice!"

Frank? Maybe Ian needed to spend a little more time at home. On the other hand, maybe it was a good thing Ian hadn't been spending a lot of time at home.

--

Ian left after dinner unannounced, taking his well-worn trail to the baseball dugouts.

When he approached the field, he noticed a small orange flame illuminating the man's face and a cloud of smoke fog through the chained fence. He smirked.

"Couldn't get enough the first round?" Ian taunted, announcing his presence as he leapt over the fence, an old habit.

"Fuck you, man," Mickey scoffed and blew his smoky breath in Ian's grimacing face.

"Oh I think you plan on it." He stepped closer.

"Is that so?"

"Mmhmm," Ian plucked the cigarette out of Mickey's fingers. "Can't have you with bad lungs, then what will all the poor defenseless swimmers do without a capable lifeguard?"

"Let 'em drown," Mickey smacked Ian's cigarette out of his hands and closed the distance between them.

"It would crush your groupies to know you care so little," Ian murmured against his neck.

"This is a bad idea," Mickey breathed, tugging at Ian's crumpled shirt.

"The worst," Ian yanked his shirt fully off.

Mickey pulled back, eyeing Ian's now-bare back.

"Mmm, no sunburn. That would've ruined my plans." Mickey smiled smugly.

Oh shit.

Ian swallowed. He was already way too far off the deep end. Luckily for them both, Mickey knew how to swim.

[lunnybunny12]

Sandor Clegane x reader (Reason 1)

Requests are open 

Warnings: Death, Murder, hanging, swearing and prostitution 

Word count: 1230

Part 2 (Reason 2)

Part 3 (Reason 3)

Part 4 (Reason 4)

Master list

A daughter of a whore, raised by nuns, became a thief, ran away to Braavos and was trained as an assassin. That just about summed you up.

You had fought your whole life to get to where you were, to prove you were worthy enough to be apart of a world filled with shitty people. Despite all of that, you still found yourself  laughing at the situation you found yourself in.

"(Y/n) fucking Hill"

Your head shot up at hearing that name. You hadn't gone my Hill since you went to Braavos.

"Ah, so you know our little sparrow do ya Clegane?" Thoros said nudging your side as he sat beside you.  When he saw the look you gave to the former guard he dropped his joking demeanour. 

"The Fuck you doing here?"

Sandor stared at you for a moment before turning to the 3 men behind you. The men were stood on 3 small barrels, hands tied behind their backs and a rope around their necks.

"Chasing them. You?"

"Hanging them" Berec retorted.

"They're our men. Or they were. They attacked a nearby septor and murdered the villagers, why do you want them?" Thoros asked.

"Same reason. I was helping build it. They killed a friend of mine."

"You have friends?"

"Not any more" Sandor said, his eyes darted to you for a second before walking up to your group "They're mine."

"It's the brotherhoods good name they've dragged through the dirt-"

"Fuck your name. They're mine," Sandor said through gritted teeth. " I've killed you once before Beric and I'm happy to do it again."

At the corner of your eye, you saw another one of your group stretch his bowstring and aim an arrow at him.

"Drop the arrow," You said clearly so that everyone could hear and stepped closer to him.

 "He's not going to hurt US... you can have one of them."

The look you got wasn't one of surprise or shock. He was thinking. The other men around you weren't surprised at your boldness, you'd been with them for years and had quickly earnt the respect you were given.

"... Two" Sandor said looking at you.

After a moment of silent deliberation, you nodded to him in agreement.

Just as Sandor was about to plant his axe in one of the traitors heads, Thoros stopped him.

"We're not butchers..."

"Speak for yourselves" you mumbled under your breath with a smile.

"... We hang them"

With an annoyed look, Sandor replied "Hanging? All over in an instant. Wheres the punishment in that?"

"They die-"

"Thay all bloody die. Except for that one" Sandor said motioning to the one-eyed man behind him. " I'll only gutt one of em"

By this point, you had taken a few steps away to get a better view of the scene. The men that were about to die were part of your group once but their twisted sense of right and wrong had lead them to do awful things. They deserved what they were about to get and thankfully others thought the same.

"No" Beric said.

"Chop off one hand?"

"We gave you 2 of the 3 out of the respect of your loss. That's generous."

With a sigh, Sandor dropped his axe " You're all a bunch of Nancies... There was a time I would've killed all 8 of you just to gutt these 3."

"You're getting old Clegane" you chuffed

Suddenly, Sandor kicked the barrel out from under one of the man's feet, sending him falling a short distance to his slow death.

"He's not" Sandor said doing the same to another of the man.

That's when you moved to stand in front of the last man. His eyes wide with fear. You'd admit that you enjoyed watching the fear grow as you let kicked away his barrel too.

When you got back to camp, Beric told Sandor that he was born a fighter and no matter where he went a fight would always find him. How everything happens for a reason Bla bla bla.  It was true that Sandor was a fighter, he had gutted his first man when he was 12 years old and didn't regret it, but that didn't make him a fighter. What made him a fighter was how he continued to live his life and grow stranger with every passing day and by the way he looked he had continued to do so. Beric also said that Sandor would be useful in the brotherhood. How it needed strong men to help is win the upcoming war and how he could help more people he's hurt.

You saw something change in him at that moment. It could have been how he sat or the look in his eye, you weren't sure... but something did change.

That night when everyone was supposed to be asleep, you stayed awake to keep the fire lit. While stoking the flames, thoughts swam around your head like a fish in a shallow pond. The flames shone like a beacon in the pitch-black forest. The occasional snore and animal sounds echoed off of the trees. The stars above were the only thing for the company.

At the corner of your eye, you saw someone lumbering their way towards you. You weren't scared, you knew he wouldn't hurt you.

"Cant sleep Clegane?"

"Not with all these cunts snoring like dying pigs"

"It good to see you haven't changed" You said, eyes gazing into the fire. 

"and there's no point in trying to save face, I know you're still angry with me,"

"And for good fucking reason. You kissed me took the gold and pissed off to Braavos the first chance you got." he quietly seethed. when he put it like that it did sound like an awful thing to do.

With a sighed "Sandor, what am I?"

"I'm not playing guessing games (Y/n)"

"What am I? I'm a bastard, born to a whore and gods know who. No money, no parents, hell not even a name. From the moment I was born, I had to fight for myself because no one else would. I pissed off because after your father died and that brother of yours became the lord, you became the princes bitch in the red keep. There was nothing for me in Westeros, so I left,"

"And what of that kiss then ey? You left that out of your little rant" he said cockily.

You looked at him without a speck of fear in your eyes. His whole life he had never met anyone who looked at him like that and it rendered him speechless.

"That kiss was the only thing of worth I could've given you to remember my by. I knew full well that if I died you'd be the only one in Westeros to remember me ... we were friends once Clegane and you couldn't even tell me you were leaving so I did it first." You said taking a deep swig of ale from a pouch on your hip and then passing it to him.

"Was that the only reason?" He asked taking the pouch from you.

"No. but its the only one I'm brave enough to admit to right now" You joked earning a smile from the man.

[enthusiasticharry]

The Secrets You Keep

summary: you're a stripper, and you meet Harry off shift. what happens when he finds out?

request: hiiii would you be able to do something like stripper y/n? not where they meet at the club or anything but something natural like at a cafe or something but she keeps it from him bc she thinks he’ll leave her? then he has a guys night at the strip club and sees her perform? but he loves it and she’s a bit embarrassed? idk but that kinda vibe if ur up for it! X

word count: 8.3k words of fluff, smut and angst if you squint (and i really mean squint) also not proofread, sorry! 

masterlist    |    asks

It never occurred to you that once you left full time education you’d end up becoming a stripper. It wasn’t the occupation you had envisioned for yourself, but it was the one that paid the best money and even though it shouldn’t be — money was the thing that you needed the most. You lived in a small, one bedroom flat that you shared with your Grandma who had no income and little pension meaning that you was the only source of income for the two of you. Obviously it was hard upon you, but your Grandma had done so much for you when you were younger that you wanted to help her as much as you possibly could. Granted, finding a job as an eighteen year old that was enough to help pay the bills and for the treatment your Grandmother needed wasn’t the easiest, and that was how you stumbled across the club and the jobs there. Your Grandma didn’t know how you received your income, and you planned to keep it that way for as long as you physically could. 

“Have you got any private dances today?” Jocelyn, also known as Sapphire amongst the people in the club, asked as she started fixing her makeup in the mirror next to yours. 

“I don’t know.” You sighed, spraying a small amount of hairspray upon your curls, “I haven’t spoken to Elliot yet.” 

“Apparently some big shot businessmen are coming in tomorrow.” Ruby adds from the other side of you, applying a lipstick that matched her name to her lips. 

“Ugh.” Sapphire groaned, “That means old men with small dicks wanking to us instead of being with their probably very lovely, loving wives at home.” 

“They lust after the taboo.” You add, applying a small amount of lipgloss to your lips, “They want what they can’t have, and brag when they get it.” 

“They have money though.” Ruby shrugged, “Haven’t had many tips this week. I’d probably do anything for a couple hundred quid tomorrow.” 

“Not anything Ruby.” You turn to look at her, shaking your head at the younger girl, “Stand your ground. Don’t let them take advantage of you.” 

“I won’t.” She smiled, “I learnt from the best.” 

“And don’t you forget it.” 

As a fresh eighteen year old, just as Ruby was now, you could’ve only hoped for someone to help you and guide you through the trails and tribulations you endured at the club. That’s why you sort of took the younger girl under your wing and helped her as much as possible. 

It wasn’t a lot. Granted, with what they did the majority of it was on their own upon the stage or in a private dance but you wanted to make sure she had small tips to help her handle herself in any situation that could occur and that she someone to talk to if she ever needed it. 

“Are you working tomorrow, Emerald?” Emerald was your stage name. 

“No.” You sigh happily, “It’s my day off.” 

“Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.” Ruby smiled. 

You certainly did. 

The next morning, after helping your Grandma get ready and to the hospital, you make your way towards the small café you usually went to during your Grandmother’s chemo sessions. They usually lasted around three hours, and whilst you offered to stay with her, she usually forced you to leave and spend some time on your own, claiming she didn’t want you to see her at her worst.

The spring days had just started to warm up, so you dressed yourself in a summer dress you had picked up for cheap at a charity shop. You carried your tote bag with your book in over your shoulder as you pushed past the people on the street.

It wasn’t usually this busy, and looking around you saw no free tables but a few free chairs dotted around. Your favourite table, tucked away in the far right corner by the window had been taken by a man sat reading, just as you would’ve been. You toy back and forth with the idea of going to sit over there as you walk over to the counter. 

You order your usual, a peach iced tea, and wait for the kind barista to make it. Your free days, usually, landed sporadically. They normally occurred when your grandmother either had chemo or a hospital appointment and that’s only because she can sometimes be really ill after them and needed you to look after her. Even though Elliot was not a good person by any means, he understood your situation and did help as little as he could. 

“Excuse me.” The man looked up from this book at you, “Is this seat taken?” 

“Uh. . .” 

“It’s fine if it’s not!” Your quick to add, “There’s just no other seats.” 

“No.” Your smile falters, “No! I mean that the seats not taken. It’s yours.” 

“Thank you.” You drop your tote bag down on the floor, holding your hand out to the man, “I’m YN.” 

“Harry.” He shakes your outstretched hand. 

There was something oddly familiar about him, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on why. He dressed quite casually, a punny t-shirt that said something about health on it and you didn’t want to seem too weird and bend down to look at what he had on his bottom half but you suspected it was something just as interesting. 

You take your book out of your bag and place it on the table in front of you, flicking through the pages until you found the page you had left off at. 

As a child you loved to read. Your grandmother always read you a bedtime story before bed and it lead to English being your best subject at school. Whether it be the creative writing aspect, or the analytic — you were just good at it. It was your highest grade at GCSE, an A, and your highest grade at A Level, a B.

You didn’t exchange any more words with Harry the entire time you were there. Periodically you looked up at him, and somewhere deep down you hoped that he did the same for you but you couldn’t be too sure. The book that he was reading seemed interesting enough, something about watermelon, you had noticed. You had a slight suspicion that it wasn’t about watermelon but you could never be too sure you supposed. 

A whine almost escaped your lips when you realised that you had to go pick up your Grandmother and your book had just gotten interesting. That was the problem when you read, you could sit and do it for hours and not even look up. It was something so interesting to you that you could immerse yourself in a world different to the one you lived in and slip out of reality for however long and return back to normal as though nothing had happened. 

“Thank you for letting me sit here.” You smile as you pack your bag up, “Goodbye.” 

“Bye.” 

You left feeling sort of fuzzy inside. You hadn’t spoken to the man at all really, but he was kind and certainly handsome with his tousled brown hair and gentle smile. That was probably going to be the last time that you saw him, and you probably should’ve asked for his number at least but you didn’t and that was why you walked away with him laying heavy upon your mind.

The next day, you wanted nothing more than to leave in the middle of your shift and curl up on the sofa. Instead, you were stood in a private room in the back of the club swirling your hips for a man sat upon a chair in the middle. 

“You’re fucking fit.” He moans, and you almost throw up in your mouth. 

“Thank you.” 

You move yourself so you’re hovered over his lap, twisting your hips to beat of the sultry song spilling out of the speakers. If you didn’t need the money, or have a bills to pay you certainly wouldn’t be doing this. 

“Fucking sort.” That’s when his hand drops down upon your behind, squeezing the flesh harshly. 

You stand up, flipping around so that you’re looking at him, “Hands off.” 

“Babe.” He throws his head back, “C’mon I’ve paid bags for this dance.” 

“And you pay for a dance, and the rules state no touching.” 

He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again, babe.” 

“Better not.” 

It does, and that’s when you get up and leave. He still has to pay, which is a plus but it just isn’t the best feeling. The job you do isn’t one that people necessarily respect you for, but there are rules in place to help with that. You and the other dancers within the club were human beings and deserved the rights that any other person has. 

“You okay?” Ruby presses her hand to your shoulder as you powder your under-eyes, “I heard he was touching.” 

“Yeah.” You smile at her through the mirror, “Started behind and they he just full on groped me.” 

“Men are pigs.” 

“I second that statement.” You laugh, “But you know what they’ll say.” 

“That we teased and antagonised them to do it.”

Throwing her a deadpan look, you nod. It was something that you had dealt with for the past six years of your life and even though you did hate it and wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you up every time it happened — you had gotten used to it. 

“Did you have a nice day off yesterday?” 

“I did thank you.” You smile, “Read a bit. Spent some time with my Grandma.” 

“Sounds lovely.” Her face then twists into one that you can’t quite pinpoint, “You didn’t miss much here.” 

“The businessmen not up too much?” 

“No they paid well.” She nodded, “We just had to watch them wank their micropenises at us.”��

You curl your nose up at the thought, “That sounds pleasant.” 

“Totally.” She snorts. 

“Emerald. Ruby.” Elliot sticks his head into the room, “Get your asses back out there.” 

Ruby rolls her eyes and you laugh. Your job certainly wasn’t your favourite but some of the people around you made it more pleasant.

Two weeks later you find yourself sat in the corner of the café down the road from the hospital, your book open in front of you and a peppermint tea sat upon the table in a pot. Your Grandmother’s second round of chemo was slowly coming to the end of its stint and even though you wanted nothing more than for her to be back to the epitome of health, you would miss spending time at this small café. 

“Hi.” You lift your head up to see Harry stood there, slightly breathless, “Is this seat taken?” 

“It’s yours.” You smile, watching him drop his book on the table.

This time you could see his entire outfit. A white t-shirt with some writing on that you missed, a floral shirt over the top paired with red corduroy flares. You were right the last time that you met him —he did have an amazing sense of style. You, however, bought whatever was the cheapest or on sale that seemed acceptable to wear in public. 

“How have you been?” 

“I’ve been okay.” You smile, “You?” 

“Good, thanks.” He scratches the base of his neck, “I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Oh.” You have to stop yourself from smiling too much, “I only come when my Grandma has an appointment and they’re usually two weeks apart.” 

“Ah.” He nods before his face curls, “I’m sorry if that seemed creepy.” 

“It didn’t.” You can’t help the butterflies that erupt within your stomach, “I just thought I wouldn’t see you again.” 

“Couldn’t let that happen.” Heat rises up your neck as he beams.

“No complaints about that from me.” 

“That’s good.” He rests his hand upon his chest, letting out a deep breath, “Thought I was punching a little over my weight.” 

“You’re not.” You cheeks hurt from smiling, “It’s cute.” 

He looks down at his book. He seemed so shy, as though he had a confidence to talk to people but once they complimented him or something to do with him it completely changed. It was intriguing. He was already nicer to you than most people you’ve met of the opposite sex in your life and you’re let to learn anything about him apart from the fact that he reads Bukowski and likes black coffee — it certainly wasn’t much to go on. 

“How long do we have until you have to go back to your Grandma?” 

“Not long.” You sigh sadly, “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I understand, it’s okay.” He flashes you a small smile, “Can I walk you back to the hospital?” 

You ponder his offer for a second, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You walk back to the hospital brushing arms with one of the nicest people you’d ever met, and you couldn’t be happier. 

“Has your Grandma been having treatment for long?” 

“It’s her second round.” You explained, “They originally removed the tumour and it went away but it came back. They caught it quickly and she’s back in bay 11 for three hours every two weeks.” 

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, “That must’ve been tough.” 

You shrug, “She’s a fighter, I know she is.” 

“I don’t doubt she is.” He smiles, “She’s got an amazing granddaughter to stay alive for.” 

The walk to the hospital isn’t long enough in your opinion. You speak about a few things, and you learn he does music and that’s when you put two and two together and realise that he’s actually Harry Styles from One Direction. Harry wished he could’ve recorded your reaction when you realised. 

Harry had never met someone like you, and he had met a lot of people in his life. You were sweet, and kind and so gentle but also confident and held yourself in such a strong way that he couldn’t help but want to know you, the real you. 

“This is it.” You stop in front of the entrance closest to the chemo ward, “Thank you for walking me.” 

“It’s no problem.” He smiles, “I hope this doesn’t sound too weird, but can I get your number?” 

“Uh. . . yeah.” 

“Great.” He beams, “At least now I won’t have to hope you show up at the café.” 

You swear you felt your heart burst. 

During your shift a couple of weeks later, you don’t notice your phone light up a message. You actually don’t notice at all until you arrived home that night. You had already checked on your Grandma, who was sound asleep in bed, and that’s when you allowed yourself to drop down upon the sofa with a sigh. 

Seeing an unknown number pop up on your screen at first had confused you, but once you had looked further into it, your palms started sweating. 

Hi YN. It’s Harry. I know it’s been a while but I’ve been trying to figure out what to say. I hope you and your Grandma are well. 

Your heart starts to beat faster. The message you had awaited for weeks was here and you had no idea how to act, never mind what too reply back with. The only thing that spiralled around within your mind was that he had been thinking about you. 

In your head, you imagined him pacing around in his large house trying to figure out what to send you, just like they do in the movies. You at least hoped that was what he had been doing over the past couple of weeks. 

Hi Harry! It’s lovely to hear from you, sorry it’s late. I’m okay, Grandma’s getting there. How are you? 

You throw your phone down on the sofa next to you, trying not to giggle like you did as a schoolgirl whenever you were messaging boys. You nearly cried whenever you phone ran out of credit and you’d end up having to run to the store to get a top up in the morning with your spending money and explaining to them what had happened. You were thankful that your upgrade didn’t need that. 

I’m okay. Glad to hear about your Grandma. I know this is probably really weird and totally out of the blue, but are you free this weekend? I’m leaving next week for a little while and I really want to see you before I do. 

In your head, you ignore the end of the message about him leaving and focus on the fact that he wants to see you. Harry Styles wants to see you. You hoped it was a date, everything pointed it to be a date but you didn’t want get too ahead of yourself. 

You haven’t had a boyfriend since your first year of Sixth Form, and the first date you were going on since then was going to be with Harry Styles of all people. 

If you pull some strings, work an extra long shift on Saturday and please some of Elliot’s special clients — you may be able to get Friday night off. It was a maybe, but over the next two days you could make it a yes. You hoped that you could make it a yes. 

You’ve never, in your six years of working at the club, missed any of your shifts for anything other than your Grandma suddenly falling ill, and those were on rare occasions. You certainly deserved this day off.

I’ll have to check with my boss but I think I could do Friday night? If that’s not a problem for you. 

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from internally freaking out. 

Sounds perfect. How about I pick you up at 8? 

You wince. It wasn’t as though your were embarrassed of where you lived because you weren’t. You’ve worked hard to be able to pay for the flat and everything in it but there was something about showing it to someone who you’ve only just met and had no intention of explaining your situation to wasn’t on the top of your priority list. 

Is there any chance I could meet you somewhere? 

Of course. Where do you fancy eating? Italian? Thai? 

Italian sounds good. 

Great. I’ll send you details over. 

Thank you :) 

See you then, YN. Sweet dreams. 

Night, Harry. 

You slept well that night. 

“I just don’t think I can spare you Friday.” Elliot sighs, “I’m sorry YN.” 

You have to stop yourself from wanting to cry. You don’t use up all your holiday days, and you work way more than you should or that you’re paid for but you don’t complain and you just get on with it. The one time you ask for a shift off, his stubborn ass says that he cant do it. 

“Please, Elliot.” You sign, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I just need this day off.” 

“And I need my best girl on the floor. Need the best of the best.” 

“There are plenty of other better girls than me working here.” 

He shakes his head, “You’re the favourite, YN. Need you to be there.” 

“Elliot.” You sigh, leaning forward in the uncomfortable seat you were sat in, “I’ve worked for you for six years and I’ve never asked for a day off like this before.” 

“Yeah but—”

“—and! I’ve never asked for a day off apart from going to the hospital and you know that.” 

“I couldn’t exactly say no to you—”

“I’ve worked every shift you’ve ever asked me to, covered for people when you need it.” 

“Stop it!” He holds his hand up to silence you, “Just shut up for a second.” 

You clamp your lips shut. If you didn’t need to stay on his good side to get Friday off you probably would’ve said something about how rude he was being. He’d always been rude, but he paid you and the rest of the girls so you all chose to ignore it. 

He ponders, and you know the cogs are turning within his brain as he scrolls through his laptop, typing a few things. He takes his glasses off his face and drops them dramatically down on the table in front of him. 

“Ruby will cover your shift.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you!” 

“Don’t be thanking me too quickly.” He points his finger, “I need a favour from you.” 

“Anything. Well not anything.” 

“In a few weeks times there’s a big birthday party coming in.” He explains, “I need you to be the star of the show, do private dances and all the good things like that.” 

“Just that?” You ask, knowing that it could be a trap knowing Elliot’s track record. 

He nods, “Just that.” 

You look at him sceptically, “What’s the catch?” 

“No catch.” He holds his hands up, “A few big names are coming, that’s all. A list celebs that have asked to use the back exit.”

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” 

“Let me know the date and I’ll do it.” 

You stand up, happy that you’ve managed to get your shift tomorrow off and that you can go on the date you have been excited for since you met Harry and was introduced to the world with him in it. 

“Have fun at your thing Friday.” 

“Thank you. . .?” 

You don’t think you like Elliot being nice to you. 

Friday night rolled around quickly and you were thankful for that. After helping your Grandma with her own dinner and into bed, you start getting ready. You curl your hair, brushing it out until its in what looks like effortless waves but are actually quite hard waves to achieve. You do natural makeup, something completely different to makeup you usually wear in one of your shifts. You try to keep all of your features soft, different to how you usually look on a day to day basis. You dress in a long white polka-dotted maxi skirt, paired with a thin long-sleeved jumper that would keep you warm due to the ever changing British weather. 

You had done a little bit of research on the restaurant Harry had sent you the address for and learnt that it wasn’t the most expensive restaurant ever, but one that was way out of your price range. It meant that you had to dip into the fund that you keep for occasions where you need a little extra money or you will use in the future when you eventually move out and busy your own place. 

The tube was crammed, seeing as though it was a Friday night and the majority of people were either coming home from work and stating to go out for end of the week drinks. You knew that the club would start to become heaving as the night grew and a part of you was thankful that you didn’t have to work today, and you were given a small break from the hell that is working at a strip club. 

The restaurant, when you arrived, definitely looked fancier than it had online. The bar stood against the corner wall, the right hand side of the restaurant had booths covering the walls whilst stand alone tables scattered around the rest of the room.

You were surprised when you saw Harry, already sat at the booth in the far right corner. He lifted his hand up in an awkward sort of wave and you couldn’t help but beam at him. He had a shirt, an expensive looking white shirt with a yellow and blue jumper over the top. You hand felt so excited to see someone since when your Grandma went into hospital for her tumour being removed and you couldn’t see her for a few days. 

“YN.” He sighs, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” You smile, slipping into the booth across from him. 

“Was starting to think you wasn’t going to show up.” 

“I’m sorry.” You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I underestimated how bust the tube was going to be.” 

You can tell he wants to pry but instead he says, “It’s okay.” 

His nails were painted yellow, a few of them painted lilac as well. There was something so simple about his nails that you just loved, and if it wasn’t weird you probably would’ve stared at them for way too long for it to be acceptable. You knew he had tattoos, and you could see the cross on his hand and the the anchor peaking out from underneath his shirt and you wanted to see more. 

“I like your nails.” You smile, running your own fingers over your own nails underneath the table. 

“Thanks.” A blush creeps up his neck, “I did them last night. Sort of calmed me down, I was quite nervous.” 

“Nervous for what?” 

“This.” He nods, “I haven’t been as nervous for a date in a long time.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous.” 

In your twenty four years of living, you’ve never had someone say that they were nervous to see you. You’ve been nervous to see and do many things in your life and you hoped that somewhere along the line it would’ve been the same for somebody else and yourself but you had the slight suspicion that wasn’t the case. Hearing those words out loud, coming from someone who you’d never expect it too was special, and you were going to keep that for as long as you physically could. 

“I did.” He looks down at the table briefly, “I’ve never liked a girl as much as I like you before.” 

“You don’t really know me.” 

“I’d like to get to know you.” 

That’s what you do. For the rest of the date you don’t stop talking. Even though you’re starving and could eat your fist, it takes you the longest you’ve ever taken to eat your food because of how much you spend it talking. 

You’re just about to dig in to your desert when your body physically halts, “Why didn’t you want me to pick you up?” 

“I, uh, I—”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t what to! I know I can be pretty invasive sometimes.” 

“No, it’s fine!” You take a sip of your drink to swallow down the dryness within your throat, “I don’t live in the nicest building, or in the nicest area and I guess I was embarrassed.” 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” 

“But I was.” You drop your eyes to the plate in front of you, “I know I shouldn’t have been and that it was stupid but I just didn’t want you judge me before you truly knew me because of where I live.” 

“I hope you know now that I wouldn’t have done that.” 

“I do.” 

You let Harry drive you home. Even though you would never admit it to his face just yet, you really liked him. He was kind, sweet and funny and everything you could ever want in your person. You haven’t said this in a long time but you love the person you are around him and you wouldn’t change it for the world if you didn’t have to. 

He stops in the car park outside the building of flats you live in and you can tell he’s thinking deeply about something but you try to not concentrate on that too much. 

“I would invite you up.” You laugh, “But I don’t think the sofa in the middle of my Grandma’s flat whilst she snores in the next room is the most romantic.” 

He scrunches up his nose, “I can’t say that it is.” 

“I’m sorry.” You drop your head to look at your hands that are tested on your knees, “I really wish I could offer you something. Anything.”

“It’s okay, YN.” He uses his finger to move your head up so that you’re looking at him, “I don’t expect anything from you. I hope you know that.” 

“I know.” 

He hesitates for a moment, and you can feel the finger that was rested upon your chin move upwards so that its upon your cheek. You flicker your eyes closed and just mask in the feeling of his touch against your cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. 

You eyes open as you nod your head, letting out a shaky breath at the sheer surprise you feel at his words.

“Want your words, darling.” 

“Please kiss me.”  

You close your eyes again and you feel his lips touch yours. It's light at first, but you can’t contain yourself and you end up pushing closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his lips upon yours. Your fingertips grip the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer without hurting himself too much on the centre console. Even though you both don’t want to, you pull away as you start to loose breath. 

“You okay?” Your chest heaves up and down as he speaks. 

“Never been better.” You sigh, resting your forehead against his. 

“Good.” 

You kiss again, this time its more passionate and you can’t help but let out a small whine as he pulls away. The smug look on his face after hearing that sound was enough to send your stomach doing flips. 

You really didn’t want to do this, but you had too: “I have to go.” 

“It’s okay.” He smiles, “I understand.” 

“Okay.” You reach for the door handle. 

“I have to go away for a bit.” He sighs, “I’m writing some music over in America but when I get back, do you want to maybe go on another date?” 

“I’d love to.” 

He presses one last kiss to your lips and you leave the car, muttering a small, “Bye.” 

You feel giddy. As though you’re sixteen again and just come back from your first date with your first boyfriend. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time and in all honesty, you had no idea how to handle those feelings. You certainly wouldn’t admit that you screamed quietly into your pillow in excitement that night. 

You couldn’t wait for him to return home. 

Two weeks. Harry was away for two weeks and even though you had only kissed him once, twice if you actually count how many kisses there were, you missed him more than words could explain. You weren’t one to usually message first, so you did end up waiting until Harry had a spare moment to message you which wasn’t as often as you would’ve liked but you couldn’t complain. 

You almost felt as though you had been drip fed this new life with Harry in, only to have it taken away quicker than you could blink. It wasn’t forever, and that was probably the thing keeping you sane. This had all happened in such a short amount of time but you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

The only thing that limited how far you could take this was your job. 

Harry had obviously been curious and during a text conversation in the first week of his week being away — he asked what you did. After having a small freak out you decided to say that you worked in a bar. It was a small, white lie and you hated yourself for it but telling him that you were a stripper just didn’t feel like the best thing to do at that time. 

You just weren’t ready to tell him, and that was totally okay. 

Speaking of your work, tonight was the night of the big party that Elliot made sure you could come to. The club had held celebrity parties before, so you weren’t entirely nervous but every time someone mentioned it you could feel your heart speeding up slightly. 

“Emerald.” You turn to look at Elliot who’s trudging towards you, a bag in hand, “Here’s your new outfit for tonight.” 

“New? I thought I’d just wear the one for special occasions.” 

“This is a special, special occasion Emerald.” He dropped the bag down in front of you, “Wear this.” 

Taking the material out of the bag, your mouth dropped open at the sight of the emerald green lingerie in your hands. It was delicate lace that you feared you’d rip if you weren’t too careful. Putting it on, your breasts slightly spilled over the lace, and whilst your front was covered, the thong back of the lingerie left your ass on full display. It was beautiful, you couldn’t dismiss that but you just hadn’t ever worn something so skimpy before. You pulled your black silk robe over your shoulders, fastened your black heels onto your feet and made your way towards the side of the stage. 

The skimpiness of the new lingerie did send more butterflies to the pit of your stomach than you were originally hoping for but it was only another hurdle for you to get over which you knew you’d be able to do. 

You heard the music start to play, you slipped your hand through the gap in the curtain and opened it, revealing yourself to the room. 

Here goes nothing, you mumble to yourself. 

Harry’s jaw dropped at the sight of you on the stage. It certainly wasn’t his usual scene, a strip club, but it was a friend of a friends birthday and he had kindly been invited and he wasn’t about to turn it down. He wasn’t in the band anymore, and certainly didn’t have to hide that he went to places like this anymore, even though they weren’t his favourite. 

He couldn’t bare his eyes off of you. The way your body moved to the rhythm of the song, your darkly manicured nails pushed the robe of your shoulders, exposing the delicate lingerie you were wearing. Harry would be lying if he said that his cock didn’t start to stir at the sight. 

You. The girl who he thought spent her days reading, and looking after Grandma had a secret persona that he only wanted to explore more. 

“My word.” One of the men in the group spoke, loudly so that everyone could hear him, “She’s fit as fuck.” 

“To get my hands on her.” 

Harry clenches his jaw, and his fist that rested on the arm of his chair. If he wasn’t in a very public place where people could record him, he’d give that man a piece of his mind. He probably would but he’d do it when nobody was around so the man could truly understand what he was saying to him. 

“Do you think I could get a dance with her?” The birthday boy asked. 

“It’s your birthday.” The dickhead with no morals spoke, “She might give you something special as a present.” 

“The rules say no touching.” The words slip out of Harry’s mouth before he can stop them, “So I highly doubt that.” 

“I’m sure you’d be saying something different if you were in his position, Styles.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the stage, watching as you seductively bent down to pick up some of the tips that had been thrown on the bottom of the stage. The song was slowly finishing and Harry couldn’t help but feel a little bit of disappointment bubbling within him.

Harry watched your lean legs as you strutted towards the side of the stage, flicking the long wig on your head over your shoulder, seductively running your tongue over your bottom lip as you pulled the material of the lingerie down from your breasts. 

Harry bit his lip, his leg bounced, he ran his hand up and down his thigh. He tried to do everything in his power to distract himself from the rousing within his trousers but he just couldn’t do it. The flimsy material dropped to the floor, your red painted lips curled up into a smirk and you made your way behind the curtain, not showing any of your truly bare skin. 

If you hadn’t been imprinted on his brain before, you certainly were now.

You could hear the grunts and groans of happiness, and a few cheers whilst on stage but the lights were so bright that you couldn’t see anything past the first row or so. The tips you had received were good, and you were pleased about that. 

You received your robe and bra back from the stage and pulled them back onto your body. Your solo dance was always a hit for Elliot, and you supposed that was why he’s kept you on for so long and if you were honest, they were the easiest to do. Private dances always made you too uncomfortable, and in the six years you’ve worked there there had only been a handful of people that made you feel comfortable when it came to private dances. 

“Emerald.” Elliot walks in smiling and you assume everything is swell on the floor, “They fucking love you.” 

You nod your head, muttering a small and awkward, “Thank you.” 

He hums, “You’ve been requested for a private dance, and he’s promised to pay you accordingly.” 

“Really?” 

Another hum, “Room Two. I think he’s already there.” 

“Thanks.” 

He leaves the room, a bounce in his step. You suppose that this is a good thing and he’ll finally get off your back for the time you took off for the date with Harry. You at least hoped. 

You checked yourself. You made sure your makeup still looked flawless, your breasts sat perfectly within the material and your arse looked good. You brush through the wig once and make your way towards room two, the smaller of the three private dance rooms which helped it be more intimate. 

You smiled at the bouncer at the door, Gerry, a man who looked as though he could kill someone with a single punch but was actually a massive teddy bear. He was good at his job of keeping everyone safe and making sure that the bad eggs that came in left just as quickly. 

Watching the door slowly open, Harry felt his heart stop. He had been pacing up and down the room ever since he had walked in, and only just stopped when he heard the creek of the door. He couldn’t believe that you were in front of him, and you certainly couldn’t believe that he was in front of you either. 

“YN. . .” He sounded breathless. 

“Harry?” He could see your chest rising and falling at a quick pace, “What? How? I thought you were in America.” 

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “I got back last night.” 

“Why are you here?” He can hear the lump in your throat as you speak, your eyes glossing over. 

“A Birthday party.” 

“Yours?” 

“No!” He’s quick to interrupt, “A friend of a friend. It’s not mine. Mine’s in February, and I certainly don’t think I’ll be having my party here. Not that there’s anything wrong with here! It’s lovely! You’re lovely! I’m rambling.” 

He was so gosh darn cute and if you weren’t in the middle of a break down, you probably would’ve laughed or at least reacted to his little word vomit. It was probably the quickest you’d ever heard him talk, not that it was hard. 

After a few minutes of contemplating what to say, you sigh, “I’m sorry.” 

His voice is soft, his features falling, “What are you sorry for?” 

“Lying to you.” You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to suppress the tears, “I didn’t want to.” 

“Hey, hey.” He walks over to you, placing his finger underneath your chin just like he had done in the car weeks ago, “No need to get upset, I’m not.” 

“You should be.” You bottom lip quivers, “I lied to you and I had no intention to retract that just yet.” 

“YN.” He rests his palms on your cheeks, “I’m not angry. I’m not upset. I just want to know why.”

“I was scared.” You admit, trying to do anything but look up at him, “I didn’t know what you’d think or if you’d change your mind.” 

“Change my mind about what?” 

“Wanting too, you know. . .?” 

He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t. There’s no reason for me to.” 

“I’m a stripper Harry, it gives you full reason to not want to be associated with me.” You lift your hand to wipe your under-eye. 

“I’m not judging you, YN, I said I wouldn’t.” 

“I wouldn’t be upset if you did.” 

“YN.” His voice is stern, more so than it had been, “I don’t care that you’re a stripper.” 

“You don’t.” 

“No.” He smiles, “I don’t.” 

“Fuck.” You let out a breath of relief, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs, “If you didn’t want to, you didn’t have to.” 

You had never met someone like him, and no matter how many times he surprised you that was just fact. Granted, you hadn’t had time to date anyone with looking after your Grandma but another reason you didn’t was because of what they would think of you. 

You knew that not everyone would be was understanding and lovely as Harry had been, and that was just because of the lovely person he was inside and out. That was the reason you didn’t tell him, because even though you had an inclination that he was accepting but you didn’t know whether that was just a façade or he was like that in real life. You loved that he was like that in real life. 

“Can I be honest?” You nod, “I enjoyed it.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the smile that threatened to cross your lips, “You did?” 

He hums, beaming a smile at you. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” The corner of his lips tugs upwards, “I’d still love to get that private dance.”

You roll your eyes and thwack his shoulder playfully, “If you must.” 

“I’ll wait for you.” He nods, “Until your shift is over, if you want.” 

“Please.” 

“I’ll see you then.” 

You hadn’t even made it completely into Harry’s house before his lips were on yours. He pushed you up against his front door before he’d even shut it properly, his lips falling upon yours with a hunger you hadn’t felt since you last kissed him. 

Maybe it was his hands rested upon the small of your back, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Can I offer you a drink?” He smirks against your lips. 

“Not the priority.” You reply, not bringing your lips away from his. 

“Noted.” He places a kiss to your jaw, “Upstairs?” 

“Upstairs.” 

You follow him up the stairs, your hand rested firmly in his. You’re too distracted by the man in front of you to take any notice of the house or where you were going. 

Harry had kept true to his word and waited for you. You secretly wished that you could have recorded the group’s reaction as you walked towards him, a small smile on your face. After bidding them goodbye, the two of you jumped in a taxi that Harry had ordered and made your way to his house, or what you expected to be his house and you weren’t disappointed. 

The second you step into the plushly decorated room, you’re kissing again. His hands slide down to rest upon curve of your ass, his ring-clad fingers immediately squeezing the flesh. You groan lightly into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip through her parted lips. You grip his bicep as he leads your backwards into the room, your calves hitting the bed as he does so. 

Your lips part, you fall back onto the bed. You look up at him through your eyelashes, your fingertips reaching to pull the shirt he was wearing over his head. You almost swoon there and then at the sight of the tattoos littering his skin. You lean forward and place a kiss on his lower stomach, just before his happy trail that slips into the band of his trousers. 

You bite your lip, grinning up at him. 

“What are you planning?” 

“I don’t know.” You shrug, “What do you want me to be planning?” 

He groans, “Anything at this point.”

You reach forward, taking the button of his trousers in your fingers. You look up, “Is this okay?” 

“More than okay, baby.” 

You unbutton his trousers, wrapping your finger in the waistband and pulling them down. You can already see the tent in his boxers. You wondered how long he had been like this, you wondered if it had been since your dances. 

You blush slightly as you hook your fingers now into the waistband of his boxers, looking up at him. You can’t handle the look on his face, the slight blush but the boyish grin mixed with his curls that had fallen forward upon his forehead. You pull the fabric down, exposing his hard cock. You watch as it hits his stomach briefly, the tip swollen. You lift your hand up, wrapping it around him before giving him a few pumps. His stomach quivers as you do so, a groan escaping him as you wrap your lips around his tip. His eyes flutter closed as you start to bob your head, his fingers reaching forward to grab your hair into a ponytail. 

“Fuck baby.” His hips involuntarily buck forward. You sink further down, going as far as you could. 

Harry couldn’t believe how good he felt. It had been a while since he had been with someone, and it was worth the wait. You pulled away too soon in his opinion, but the sight of you, all teary eyed and sloppy sent his mind spiralling. 

“God.” He bent down and wrapped his arms around your thighs, lifting you up so he could move you further up the bed, “You’re fucking killing me here.” 

“Good.” You giggle. 

He’s quick to remove your shirt, allowing you to pull your jeans down at the same time. He didn’t expect you to still be in the lingerie from earlier, and if it was physically possible, he swore his cock hardened even more. 

“Fuck me.” 

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours again as his fingers fumble with the latch of your bra. You bite your bottom lip as he wraps his around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. He uses his hand to knead the other one. You can’t help but grind your hips forwards, a feeling bubbling deep in the pit of your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Harry.” You moan, withering under his touch. 

He kisses down from your lips, to your jaw, down your neck until he’s littering them all the way to the band of your underwear. 

“Is this okay?” 

“More than okay.” You whine as he lets out a breath upon the thin material. 

He pulls your underwear down, teasing you by placing kisses across your thighs and pubic bone. He’s so close, yet so far from the place that you need him the most. He licks a stripe across your centre, until he wraps his lips around your clit. You can’t help the moans that escape your parted lips as he nibbles and flicks your sensitive nub, her thighs starting to shake as he coaxes her closer and closer to her orgasm. 

“Don’t stop.” You thread your fingers through his hair, “God! Harry.” 

He pulls away, and you let out a shaky breath as he does so. 

“No fair.” You whine. 

“Life isn’t.” 

“Just shut up and get a condom.” He does as you request, placing a small peck to your lips as he reached over to grab a condom from the drawer beside the bed. 

You watch as he rips the packet open with his teeth, pulling the rubber down his length. He presses another kiss to your lips, catching her eyesight once more.

“Are you sure?” 

“More than okay.” 

He hovers over you, rubbing his tip up and down your wet folds to coax a moan out of your lips. He groans into your shoulder as he pushes in, biting down briefly to suppress the sound. 

“Don’t.” You moan, scratching your nails down his back as he starts to thrust in and out of you, “Let me hear you.” 

“Fuck.” You squeeze him slightly, “Do that again.” 

He speeds up, catching your lips as your hips meeting quicker, the only sound in the room being your skin slapping each others. You slip one of your hands between the two of you, your nimble fingers rubbing your clit. 

“Where have you been all my life?” You can’t help the pleasurable giggle that escapes your lips. 

“Feel so good, H.” 

After a few more thrusts, a couple more circles of her clit and she’s comes around his cock, squeezing him tightly as she did so. 

“Fuck, shit, oh god.” 

He continues to thrust in and out of you, coaxing you through your orgasm and towards his. He seems to go deeper and deeper until he’s spilling inside the condom, his moans louder than any you had heard before. 

“God.” He collapses on top of you, taking a few seconds to collect himself and let you collect yourself, “Haven’t felt like that in a long time.” 

“Glad I could be of some assistance.” You push the hair that had matted to your face off. 

“You should keep secrets from me more often.’ 

“I’m never doing that again.” 

“Good.” He pecks your lips.