#I smeared d’s eyes rip my dude

[theblorboscalledtheturtles]

2012 mutagen is what 🌌🪱🥛

2012 Leo & MM Donnie, 2012 Raph & mm Mikey

[chryblossomjjk]

practice (pt. 2) | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | college au, fwb, smut, fluff, angst

⇢ WC: 8.1k

⇢ WARNINGS: implied family issues, photography major jk in full effect, casual titty sucking (lol), oral sex (f receiving), ass eating and motorboating?, handjob, unprotected sex (crowd boos and throws tomatoes), a bit of spanking, talk of sex toys, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, slight dom and sub oc, slight sub and dom jk, shower head as vibrator (everyone w a clit has done this pls-), some manhandling, anal play, shower floor sex !!!, very slight cum eating, creampie, oc reflects on how far she’s fallen, oc still hates men, maybe unrequited love, maybe not

⇢ SUMMARY: everything is wet. you and jungkook tangled up on the shower floor. your eyes afterwards.

⇢ NOTES: yOu’Re WeLcOmE rEaDeRs. this was only going to be a one shot but i was manipulated into making it a three part series bc of u all >:((! lol kidding love u babies! tbh i'm a bit disappointed with this piece. i really loved it when i outlined it but for some reason it just didn’t come together how i would’ve hoped. i tried my best guys rip. hopefully part three will be better. anyways, feedback is greatly greatly appreciated!! thank you again for all the engagement on part one if you’re new pls go read it and check out my masterlist here. ALSO HUGE THANK YOU TO MY BBY @here4btsfics FOR BETAING LEGIT COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT U!!

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

“You look miserable.”

You were miserable. 

The air at the frat party was suffocating. Sweaty bodies grinding against one another, nudging your shoulder as they shimmied by. The strobe lights made your vision splotchy and the blaring speakers had your head pounding. Plus, you could already feel the makeup sinking into your pores. An oil cleanse is needed asap.

“You look like a hot mess,” you snap at the boy in front of you. His stringy bangs stick to his clammy forehead, poking out from underneath his black bucket hat. The neck of his dark gray t-shirt is stretched to one side from the pull of petite, manicured fingers. Pink lip gloss is smeared across his lips, making a glittery trail down his neck. Sore red marks already blooming. “It’s late.”

“It’s only like-�� Jungkook looks at his watch. “1 a.m.”

“Yeah, late. I have a test in the morning.”

“Go home.”

That was the problem. The two only people you really knew at the party, Mina and Taehyung, snuck off into a grimy bathroom to fuck eachother’s brains out. That was an hour ago. How long could they really go at it? You explain this to Jungkook with a sigh. “If they’re not back in the next twenty minutes, I’m going to flip.”

“Don’t be a buzzkill.” Jungkook chuckles, plopping down on the brown corduroy couch next to you. A drop of alcohol spills over the edge of his red solo cup, landing right on your bare thigh. “You can’t go by yourself?”

“I’m a woman, Jungkook.”

“Ah, right,” he nods, thumb brushing away the dark liquid on your skin before putting it in his mouth. Goosebumps form instantaneously as you watch in utter shock. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Bambi, but I don’t think a dude would touch you with a ten foot pole. You’re kinda fucking scary.”

You glare at him, fluffy brows furrowed into sharp slants. Deep scowl on your shiny pout.

“See?” He laughs, tattooed digits coming up to pinch the baby fat of your cheeks. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“No,” you huff, slapping his hand away. The subtle touch was enough to feel how surprisingly soft his skin is. “I’ll go get Mina and Taehyung-” you scoof, getting up from the tattered material under you. 

“Chill.” His fingers catch the ruffled hem of your dress, knuckles brushing against the back of your thigh. 

The audacity.

“Let them do their thing. I’ll take care of you.”

“Aren’t you in the middle of-” your eyes flicker over to Nayeon, who had been attached to Jungkook’s neck all night prior. She’s on the opposite side of the room, swaying back and forth, watching him cautiously. No doubt wondering if the illusive man had slipped from her grasp, onto the next girl that caught his fleeting attention. “-A thing?”

“Nayeon is cool.” He glances over his shoulder, gnawing on the silver ring on the corner of his lip. He nervously rolls the material of your dress between his thumb and index finger. Your eyes widen at the motion. Why was he being so… handsy tonight? “She’ll understand.”

Even from a distance, you can see the disappointed glint in her eyes when he explains that he’s heading out for the night.

The air outside is much nicer. The wind brushes through the cracks in the trees, kissing the leaves with a seemingly soft gust. The brunt of the blow isn’t felt until the wind is gone, and the unsuspecting leaves slowly dwindle to the ground. Confused as to how something so delicate and graceful led to their demise.

“Ugh, fuck,” Jungkook snarls, sticking out his pink tongue after taking a sip of whatever drink he had been nursing. “Shit’s like battery acid.”

You giggle, turning your head to get a better look at him. He looks so pretty in the moonlight. Even prettier than usual, you think. Your eyes dart back to the sidewalk under your feet. 

“Here,” he passes the plastic cup towards you. “I can’t drink anymore.”

“Ew, I don’t want your backwash, Jeon.” You scoff, holding your balled fists to your chest in disgust. 

“I’ve been known to spit in a mouth every now and then… never had any complaints.”

God, he’s so crude. 

“I told you, I have a test to take.”

“Oh please,” he persists. “I take all my tests hungover.”

“What tests?” You surrender, finally accepting the poisonous drink. A quick whiff of the mysterious liquid confirms his earlier sentiments. It was most definitely battery acid. “You’re a photography major.”

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Jungkook chants, pumping his fist in the air for emphasis.

“Stop peer pressuring me!” You say exasperatedly, words riddled with broken laughter. He’s so insufferably annoying but… weirdly adorable.

He continues, shouting louder until you down the drink in one big gulp, gagging at the putrid aftertaste. He cheers, no concern for the sleeping students who can surely hear his booming voice through their thin dormitory walls.

“I’m a bad influence on you. You’re turning into me.” 

“You wish.” 

“Not Bambi anymore, hm?” He takes his hat off, ruffling his hair before plopping it onto your head. “Gonna have to call you my baby.”

The breeze does nothing to ease the burning in your cheeks. “You’re an idiot, Jungkook.”

“Oh God… you sound like my parents,” he laughs. It wasn’t the one you had become accustomed to throughout your brief friendship. The high-pitched infectious one that always coaxed a similar sound out of you. 

This laugh was sarcastic. Devoid of joy.

“I’m so drunk that you look like ‘em too.” 

You glance up from the crushed cup. He looks… sad. You’ve never seen Jungkook sad, or even serious for that matter. His lips are pulled into a tight line, chin covered little dents as he tries to contain his emotions. 

Whatever he was feeling, you never want him to feel it again. 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head, back pressing against the entrance of your building, prepared to push it open for you. 

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” you frown, halting your steps. You can’t leave until that heart wrenching expression stops tainting his features.

“My parents are like… old school,” he shrugs, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I was so sheltered growing up. I feel like I missed out on a lot and I just… they wanted me to go to law school. Can you believe that? Me? A lawyer?”

Jungkook was a person you never expected to relate to. Sure, you were casual friends, but you chalk that up to circumstance. He just so happened to be a friend of your roommate’s boyfriend. Your interactions up until this point had been playful banter. Nothing incredibly deep. 

Honestly, you didn’t even think he was capable of complex emotions.

You feel guilty about that now.

“They sound like mine,” you admit. “They completely tie my worth to my academic success.”

“But you’re good at that. Thinking.” His fingers tap against his temple before rubbing in soothing circles, trying to coax the cogs in his skull to spin. “You’re the most intelligent person I know and I’m not just saying that because I like you.”

“Thank you,” you peep. You’ve always suspected that Jungkook secretly hated you.

Hate is a strong word and you’re very dramatic.

But nothing about your lifestyles are parallel. They’re perpendicular, moving in two completely separate directions. Only crossing paths every now and then.

Too different and incompatible. 

“My brain doesn’t work like that- watch your step,” he warns, pointing at a divet between the concrete and tile as you finally step inside. 

“I don’t like to think. I like to see. I’m a visual person.” He’s talking with so much passion, hands moving about to show you what his words couldn’t. You watch in awe.

“They don’t get that. Like when I got these,” he holds his inked arm out for your viewing pleasures. “My dad bugged out. ‘You’ll never get a good job with those doodles on your arm.’”

His tone was so exaggerated that you couldn’t help but giggle, shoulder knocking against his as you walked. He laughs too.

“I don’t really give a shit about the future. I care about now. I want to experience everything I can, right now. To me, life is about living in the moment. Photography is literally like-” his eyes squint, darting around the hallway as he looks for the right words. “Like- snapshots of the present.”

He got so carried away that he didn’t realize you had reached your destination. You blink at him.

“I’m sorry.” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That was stupid,”

“No!” You lower your voice immediately, embarrassed at your sudden outburst. “I actually…” You pause, contemplating your next words.

“I wish I was m-”

“I want to be-”

You both pause this time. Jungkook nods his head towards you, giving you the green light to speak first.

“In some ways, I wish I was more like you.”

“Yeah.” He hums with a soft smile, leaning against your doorframe. So delicate and graceful. “I was gonna say the same thing.”

You gulp, completely and utterly rattled. Your shaky hands fiddle with your keys, struggling to fit them into the lock. 

Why are you so nervous all of a sudden? It’s just Jungkook.

He laughs, steadying your jittery hand with his own and helping you slot the metal in. 

“Thank you for walking me home,” you say meekly, avoiding eye contact as you enter the dark room. “For what it’s worth… I think your tattoos are really cool.”

“And I think you’re really cute when you’re flustered,” he smirks, backing away from the doorway and waving at you. “Goodnight, Bambi.”

Much to your dismay, the compliment makes your cheeks heat up.

“Jungkook, wait! Your hat!”

“Nah, keep it!” He shouts down the hallway. “It looks better on you anyway!”

“Jungkook, stop,” you whine, back arching off your white cotton duvet. The soft tongue twisting around your nipple makes it incredibly difficult to focus on your cracked phone screen. “This episode is important. We meet Sailor Mars.”

“Sorry, Bambi,” He grunts, wet mouth reluctantly popping off your stiff bud. “Got distracted.”

It’s been a little under two month of this. Of you and him. 

Having sex, exchanging sweet words and touches, going back to just friends. Rinse and repeat. 

Blissful peaks and exhausting valleys. A rollercoaster of emotions with no logical endpoint in sight. You tried not to think about that part often though.

It was easy to distract yourself from the truth when Jungkook brought you lunch during the gap in his classes, or when he agreed to watch Sailor Moon in its entirety without much pushing. Atleast you could pretend he was yours in those little moments of affection.

You huff, pulling the crumpled t-shirt, his t-shirt, back over your chest. Your heart was still pounding from your last round an hour or so ago, and him casually sucking on your nipple while streaming a cartoon didn’t help.

“She’s your favorite?” He questions, propping his head up on the heel of his hand as he lays on his side. You nod, gaze flickering over to him. His previous activities had made his teddy bear headband slouch forward. You use one of the plush brown ears to pull it back into place.

Although sweet and attentive, Jungkook wasn’t immune to the innate disadvantages that came with being a man. 

Like not knowing how to wash his face properly. 

You watched in horror a couple weeks ago as scrubbed his face in your bathroom sink. Bangs and all. An order for a cute bear headband, the same brand as your kitty ones, was placed immediately. The way he smiled when you gave it to him would forever be burned into your memory.

“Makes sense,” he hums. “Mars is the planet of war.”

You side-eye him, knowing exactly what he was implying with that snide comment. “Just watch the show, Jeon.”

“I am.” His wavering attention turns back to your phone. “I love 90's animation. It was basically all done by hand, see?” He points at the scene behind Usagi; a blue watercolor sky fading into a baby pink. Clearly hand drawn. It was a detail you never noticed before.

“And the saturation is higher so the colors look brighter.”

“Your major is showing,” you say, using an eye roll to suppress the smile dancing on your lips. You don’t want to disturb the hydrating sheet mask on your face, resting in just the right position. You also don’t want to clue him in on how cute you find his artistic rambles.

“Speaking of that,” he laughs, resting his cheek against your chest, unable to stay in one position for too long. He’s like that in the bedroom too. You sigh as dry bits of his face mask crumble off his temple and onto the black fabric. Baby steps. “You’re still coming to the showcase, right?

Jungkook’s big end-of-semester project was to create a photography portfolio on a topic of his choosing. There was going to be a cute little gallery event to display the work of him and his classmates. It was hard not to get your hopes up when he invited you. 

That was a sign that maybe, just maybe, the feeling was mutual. Right?

“Right,” you answer him curtly. “Now tell me what topic you picked, demon.” 

“Nah, you’ll have to be a good girl and wait,” he grins teasingly, lifting up to steal an airy peck. “Besides, I need to get one more sho-”

Ding.

“Thank fuck!” He groans, springing up at the sound of your timer. “This feels like sandpaper. What the fuck are you doing to my face?”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you scold, pressing pause and tossing your phone onto your bed. He’d have to meet your favorite character some other time, clearly too distracted and antsy tonight to focus. 

“Bambi,” he says indignantly, pointing straight ahead at Mina’s floor mirror with wide doe eyes. His skin is cracked and painted gray. The reflection is startling to the skincare newbie. “Look at how dry this shit is!”

“Jungkook, it’s supposed to look like that. It’s a clay mask.” You laugh, peeling your more gentle one off and tossing it into the little trash bin near your nightstand. “You have oily skin, so it’ll help clear out your pores and reduce excess sebum production.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” he laughs, climbing out of bed and rolling his shoulders, arms numb from laying down too long. He’s topless. You can’t help but eye the way his back muscles pop out with every circular motion. 

How yummy. 

“Do you mind if I hop in the shower?”

He doesn’t need to ask. Jungkook has become a permanent fixture in your dorm, like the color pink or your twin bed. Whenever Mina is gone, he’s there. 

His presence is also similar to your bed in the sense that it doesn’t extend past the four walls of your room and mind.

A bed is warm, though. Comforting. And you long for it when you’re not in it.

That longing leads your wandering feet into the steamy bathroom.

“Jungkook,” you peep softly, knocking gently on the glass door before sliding it open. “Can I join you?”

The unexpected noise makes him jump, a large palm hitting his bare chest with a wet smack. Once his mind registers the sound as your voice though, his body language softens. Your voice so sweet and melodic in his ears. “I would never turn down an opportunity to see your tits. Wet.”

‘You could see them more often if you just fell in love with me already,’ you think to yourself, peeling off your cherry-printed thong and oversized shirt before stepping into the warm shower. 

He looks so dreamy in the sauna of your shower.

Your pupils pause when they land on the unbelievably minuscule nipples that you always tease him for. His cheeks and chest are a soft baby pink. Your favorite color. Whether it’s from the scalding water or him nailing you into the rickety mattress earlier, you can’t tell. All the fog makes him look even more heavenly than usual, like an angel descending from the clouds.

You’re down bad. 

There’s a speck of clay still on his chin, covering that little brown freckle you love so much. You cup the side of his face, thumb swiping away the leftover mask. He leans into your palms, lips chasing your finger to press a soft kiss on the pad of it.

Why must he make things so difficult for you?

 “I got it,” he mumbles, snatching the pink face cloth from your hand and reaching for what his peanut brain thinks is body wash. 

“Jungkook, that’s shampoo.” 

“What? No way,” he shakes his head confidently, picking up the slippery green bottle and reading the label with squinted eyes. 

You were right, of course.

“Oh, I fucked up then” He smells like lavender and mint. The scent fills your nostrils when he grabs the actual body wash from the bamboo wall shelf, suctioned to the tile near your head. It's the same fragrance of your very fancy, very expensive, shampoo. 

You glance at the bottle. It’s nearly empty. 

“Jungkook! You’re such an idiot!”

“It’s not that deep, Bambi. Relax,” he chuckles nonchalantly.

“It’s not funny!” Read the shower, Jeon. Haircare is no laughing matter. You cross your arms over your chest, titty-viewing privileges revoked until further notice. “That stuff is expensive, Jungkook. It’s Paul Mitchell...”

“Not Paul Mitchell,” he humors you, bottom lip jutting out dramatically. His shiny silver lip ring and eyebrow piercing do nothing to aid his faux innocence. “I’ll buy you another bottle, I promise. I used it because it reminds me of you. Smells so good.”

Jungkook squeezes the soap onto the pink cloth before running it over your body, lathering the vanilla-scented bubbles on your skin. Hands caressing every part of you so gently, as if you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever dealt with. Afraid to break you in his careless and clumsy palms.

He’s cleaning you so tenderly that it makes your lovesick heart pound.

He’s diligent too, squatting down awkwardly to wash your manicured toes, balancing your foot on top of his knee. He lets out an airy laugh when your foot jerks under his sneaky tickling fingers. 

Even on your most intimate parts, his touch stays pure and delicate. He cups your breasts, cleaning under them and around them. The damp cotton barely ghosts over your nipples. He’s never been shy to pinch, suck, or even bite them before. It doesn’t feel right to him in this context though. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfy or ruin the moment by doing or saying something dirty. 

Sometimes, Jungkook makes you feel so… important. So cared for. 

You cling to him when he washes your back, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling your face into the solid surface of his chest. You stay like that for a moment. Holding eachother under the warm stream of the shower. Savoring it while he’s still with you like this.

Blissful peaks.

The gentle swirls and shapes he draws against your skin lulls you into a trance. All you can hear is his heart beating. 

It’s so close but so out of reach. 

You count the seconds between the faint thumps. So distracted and content that your ears block out the sharp sounds of water hitting tile. All you hear is him.

Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook.

A quick swat to your ass brings you back to reality. 

You peep out a small moan, jolting forward from the impact. 

“You like when I do that,” he deduces, the corner of his lip pulling into a crooked smirk as he massages your stinging behind. “When I have my way with you. Don’t you, Bambi?”

You nod, cheek still smushed into his wet chest. How humiliating.

“You’re a lot more submissive than I thought you’d be.”

“You thought about me before we started hooking up?” You counter, voice taking on a teasing tone to hide the flutter in your chest. He wanted you too. The thought was reassuring.

“Mm, maybe.” His hardening cock, brushing right against your inner thigh, tells you the answer. “The version of you in my head was confident, though. Knew what she wanted and took it.”

He whispers the last part, gaze floating down to your lips and licking his bottom one in preparation. The telltale signs of an incoming smooch. You close your eyes, expecting a sweet kiss-

“I get that you’re still learning how to fuck,” he shrugs. “So no biggie.”

Asshole. He's taunting you.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It’s not a bad thing…” he coos, patronizingly. “Just the Bambi I know would never let a man tell her what to do.”

Any implication of you being compliant and passive, especially to a male counterpart, would normally send you into a rampage. He never understood how someone so kind could also be so viscous. When angry, you were comparable to a fire-breathing dragon, destroying villages and burning people alive with your blazing articulate tongue. Jungkook would never tell you that though, lest you think he was calling you ugly and reptilian.

That couldn’t be further from the truth, because he found it so fucking sexy when you were mad. And the bubbles of irritation were already brewing in your stomach.

You’re falling right into his trap.

“I don’t,” you argue through gritted teeth. “And I always take what I want.”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook tutts his tongue at you. “You want me so bad and you haven’t done anything about it.”

Your heart drops. Is it that obvious you have a big fat crush on him?

“Why don’t you show me a little bit, then?” He huffs, voice pleading and whiny. He grabs your hand and guides it around his semi-hard member, engulfing your’s in his tattooed one. “Touch me how you want.”

Oh, he meant sexually. You let out a sigh of relief. 

Even partially soft, his cock feels heavy in your hand. Your fingertips barely meet around the shaft, pink mushroom tip poking out of your tiny fist. Two months. Two months of seeing his cock every three to five business days, and you’re still intimidated by the sheer size of him. How could you not be? He was massive.

He knocks his wet forehead against yours. His gaze is trained on his growing cock, tongue fiddling with his lip ring as he focuses. So visual.

Hm. It could be fun to take control. Especially when he was practically begging for it. 

Jungkook prefers to be the pleasing partner. Foreplay usually consists of him licking and touching every square inch of you until you’re squirming. You’ve never seen him so needy and desperate before.

Most dicks were ugly. Monstrous even. In the flesh, you’ve seen a whopping total of three penises throughout your lifetime, Jungkook’s included. A small sample size for your age. But you’ve watched enough porn to know that they were anything but aesthetically pleasing.

You’ve always been drawn to the finer, pretty things in life.

And his is so so pretty.

It’s not overly vascular. The veins running along his shaft are subtle, you can only feel them when you give him a hard tug. His skin is smooth and supple. Pelvis clean-shaven. Despite his little skincare mishaps, you can know he takes good care of himself. It’s a quality you found extremely attractive. 

Languidly stroking up, you twist your wrist over the swollen tip. Your grip isn’t as tight as he likes and you know it, purposely dragging over the upward curve with an unbearably loose fist. The running water makes the glide easy as you pump him languidly, stopping at the crown and squeezing to give him a little relief. 

He peeps out a dreamy sigh when a pearl of dew leaks out of the slit. You coo at the sight, using your thumb to smear the wetness around his sensitive head.

A dirty Jungkook-type thought pops into your head.

“Put it in your mouth,” you command, holding your glistening digit in front of his big nose. 

He hesitates for a moment. It’s fair. You were literally asking him to taste his own precum. His black pupils dart to your thumb, over to your face, and then back to your thumb. 

Has he never done this before?

He’s apprehensive, but fiercely competitive to the core. Never one to turn down a challenge. You’ve known that since you met him, when he nearly had a meltdown over losing a simple game of beer pong. 

He takes the pad of your thumb into his pink pucker, sucking on it like a sugary lollipop. His lustful eyes lock onto yours when his tongue just barely grazes over your skin. They’re pleading, so desperate for your approval. 

“Good boy… now spit.”

You feel his cock twitch against your stomach, wet tip leaving a sticky trail to your belly button. He obliges, letting a string of spit land in your palm. You hum contently, wrapping your hand around his shaft again. Coating him in his own saliva. 

“I love that,” he moans out, voice so turned on that you have to clench your thighs together for friction. They’re already clammy with arousal.

“Love what?” You tease. “Praise or my hand?”

“Both,” he admits with no hesitation, hips recoiling and subtly thrusting into your palm. He slicks back his bothersome bangs to get a better view. 

He looks so good with his forehead out.

“Does that feel good?”

He nods halfheartedly, tunnel-visioned in on the way you’re just fucking milking him. The nasty wet clicking noises filling the air only make his impending orgasm build up quicker. Jungkook has always prided himself on his stamina, but he’s already feeling that overwhelming pooling in his balls.

“Are you gonna cum?”

“Yeah, Bambi...” He sighs, mouth dropping when he’s done speaking. Thick brows knitting together. Face contorting in the way it always does when he’s about to bust.

 You tug him hard and fast until he’s teetering on the point of no return-

And then you stop.

The muscles at the base of his cock contract and expand, making it bounce up against his pelvis. The creamy skin at the base transitions into a vibrant flush at the tip. So swollen and angry. So ready to cum.

“Fuck!” He shouts, slamming the side of his fist against the tile wall, snarled teeth look too ferocious to be bunny-like. The hooded gaze he shoots you is scary, even angrier than his cock. 

It looks painful.

You feel bad, truly.

But it was a small glimpse of the pain you felt when he blue-balled your love and affection.

“I cum first,” you taunt with a smirk, pressing a gentle peck on his lips. He doesn’t reciprocate, pout cemented in a firm straight line. “Then you.”

His tattooed knuckles sneak under your wet hair, curling around the back of your neck. The other is grips on your shoulder, trimmed nails digging into the delicate skin as he shoves you forward. You gasp, bouncing breasts squished against the shower door, cool slippery glass brushing against sensitive nipples. 

Jungkook usually takes the lead during sex, gently coaching you through the motions until you’re both silly-smiled and starry-eyed in post orgasm bliss. You’ve never seen him so domineering. A sharp juxtaposition to the whiny boy who was desperately seeking words of affirmation a few minutes ago.

His duality has you embarrassingly wet.

“I’m sorry,” he grunts, nuzzling into your shoulder and placing a few gentle, apologetic pecks on your skin. “I don’t mean to be so abrasive.”

Abrasive.

That was a big word, for him atleast. His vocabulary has expanded a bit. The thought makes you gleam. 

“You’re just-” The words are broken off by an airy chuckle. “I’m so fucked.”

There’s no time for you to mull over the hidden meanings of his words. He nudges your legs apart with his knee, muscular thigh pressing right into your sopping sex. You moan at the contact, grinding down on it until it’s rudely snatched away. 

“Isn’t someone greedy?” His voice is muffled, lips preoccupied with kissing a messy trail down your spine before dropping to his knees behind you. Right on the shower floor. “You’ve already cum. Twice.” 

You had sex just a few hours. And he did indeed, make you cum twice. Once on his fingers and once around his cock.

It wasn't enough, though. Never enough with him.

“Want more...”

“I know you do, just…” His words dissipate when spreads one cheek to the side, distracted by the mesmorising sight of your glistening slit and puckering hole. “Stay still. Let me look at you.”

The lack of sensory information has you on edge. From your position, you can’t see him. Only catching blurry glimpses of a tattooed arm when it extends into your field of vision. It’s hard to hear the nasty declarations that pour out of his mouth over the pitter-patter of water. There’s no perceptible clues that help you predict his next movements. You have to wait until you feel them.

His big hands knead your skin, making the fatty parts jiggle with his thumbs resting under each cheek. “Wow…” he peeps in admiration before shoving his entire face in your ass, vigorously shaking his head side to side. 

He’s so lewd.

You squeak when his sneaky tongue pokes out.

“No…”

“Why?” 

“That’s so… dirty.” You don’t mean you, of course. Even in the drunkest of states, you could execute a ten step skincare routine flawlessly, facial rollers and all. You were referring to the act.

“I mean… we’re kinda past that, don’t you think?”

You hum a contemplative noise. He had a point.

“Don’t you like it, baby?” A soft kiss is placed against the cinched muscle. “When I play with you like this?”

Baby.

He hasn’t called you that since he walked you home from the party. Your stomach somersaults. 

“I love it,” you confess with a sigh.

“Then why is it dirty? I’m just making you feel good, aren’t I?” He coos, placing the pad of his thumb on the untouched area. There’s no pressure behind it, just light strokes around the rim. “I can make you feel so good, if you just let me do what I want.”

What he’s implying is nerve-wracking. Anal play was something you never even considered dabbling in.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You trust him and you’re consumed by lust, so you give a small nod. 

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Do whatever you want, Koo… anything.”

There’s a sharp exhale and then soft fingers massaging tight circles on your clit. You relax into the touch. A tried and true method of making you feel good, and hopefully, ease you into the uncharted waters with little tension. Jungkook lets a string of spit fall between your cheeks, knowing you’ll need the extra lubrication. 

“Fu- hmm,” you hum through curled lips when his thick thumb slowly prods in, only up to the first knuckle. It’s not as painful as you expected. A little strange and unfamiliar, but the stretch was oddly pleasurable. “S’ good.” 

“No one has ever been in here before, right? Only me?”

“Only you.” You mewl, grinding back into his hand. The confession makes him moan. The thought of defiling you, ruining you, does things to him and to his leaking cock. 

“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll get you a butt plug.” He pauses, before adding an afterthought. “A small one with a pink gem.”

You don’t respond, enjoying the feeling of his hand too much to speak.

“Yeah,” he hums to himself. “Gonna double dip you one of these days.”

“Koo,” you whine. “Please do something.”

He can’t deny you. Not when there’s those dreamy, desperate hues in your voice. Jungkook spins, sitting on the ground before shuffling backwards until his back is against the shower door. Positioned directly between your legs. Right under your leaking cunt.

“Ride my face,” he whimpers. “Please…”

In your limited experience, and via the data you’ve collected from third-party sources (Mina), guys only ever beg to receive oral sex. 

But Jungkook is different. Here he was, fully prepared to devour your pussy like it’s his last meal on death row.

Hopefully the crime committed isn’t breaking your heart.

“Jungkook, you don’t- fuck!” His mouth is on you before you can even finish the sentence. Toned arm wrapped around your thigh, pulling you down onto his thirsty tongue like you’re a refreshing drink on a hot summer day.

The cool metal of his lip ring brushing against your outer lips as he delivered long unhurried licks between them, had your thighs trembling. You were so worked up and he’s barely even touched you.

The position is great, amazing even, but it’s hard to hold him like you want. You twist awkwardly reaching behind you and letting your fingers trace the outline of his sharp jaw. You can literally feel his tongue working under the skin, collecting as much of your sweet dew as possible before swallowing it in big gulps. 

The combination of your juices and the running water makes Jungkook-

“Feel like I'm drowning,” he laughs, sending hot breaths into your core. 

You peep an apology before standing on your toes, trying to create some breathing room.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” His free hand grabs your ass, fingertips digging into the plush surface as he pulls you back down. The motion makes his large nose brush against your clit, bulbous tip sneaking under the hood, tickling your most sensitive spot.

“Fuck, baby.” you whine, already feeling a sticky hot climax approaching.

“Don’t be shy.” The thick thumb, still hooked inside of you, begins rocking back and forth, moving your hips in tandem. Encouraging you to grind onto his face. “Use me.”

Despite the assertive facade, you were deeply insecure. You’ve never felt more liberated, more comfortable, than when Jungkook’s hands were on you, though. Caressing every undesirable part of you. Touching you in ways that made you swoon. Completely worshiping you. 

With that in mind, you build up the courage to move freely. Humping his face like you do your pillow when you’re alone and needy for him.

You find yourself saying this often with Jungkook, but you’ve never felt so good.

There’s little muffled moans under the sound of the shower. Between the wet strands of hair, you can see his thick brows pulled in at the middle. Features contorted to form that cute little yummy face he makes every time he eats good food. Or in this case, your pussy.

You giggle deliriously, gently pushing back his wet tresses. They’re silky and pliant from your conditioner. Your thumb smoothes over one of his brows in an attempt to tame the angry arch. Afraid to hurt him, you stop immediately when you feel his piercing. 

The look he gives you when he peers up at you sends you spiraling. There’s something so raw behind his eyes.

It almost looks like…

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You shout when your orgasm washes over you, hips jerking wildly and uncontrollably. Powerful waves of pleasure run through you. One after the other in rapid succession, leaving your legs shaking and your petite fingers clawing at his scalp. 

He doesn’t stop until you make him, with a fistful of hair and a rough yank. Wet lips smacking together as he coos, taking in the sight of the overstimulated body before him. You feel empty when he removes his thumb from your sore hole and climbs to his feet.

“Your mouth,” you whine. “It’s too much.”

“I know,” he hums in agreement, hugging you from behind before continuing with an airy chuckle. “Nayeon told me that I have an oral fixation.”

Nayeon.

Your heart drops at the mention of her name. 

Why was he thinking about Nayeon? Especially now, when he was being intimate with you-

‘Don’t overthink it,’ you tell yourself. It was probably just a flippant comment he made without thinking…

“Oh no,” Jungkook groans dramatically, tattooed hand scrubbing over his face in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, craning your neck to look at him.

“I only brought one condom,” he says in distraught, emphasizing the one like it was the biggest mistake of his life.  “And we already used it.”

Hm. Now seems like a good time to ask him the question you’ve been avoiding for weeks.

“Are you sleeping with anyone else?”

An eerie pause fills the air. You don’t like the way he hesitates.

“No… I always use protection anyways… and I just got tested last week.”

You don’t like the way he answers. Almost like he didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t necessarily want to admit the truth either.

You don’t push the matter further. You're afraid that if you do, he’ll drift away. Float onto the next shiny, less complicated, thing that catches his wandering eyes. 

“It’s okay. Just fuck me, Jungkook.”

“Are you sure?” He looks at you with wide, sparkly eyes. They appear almost animated, hand drawn in the same style as your favorite cartoon. “We don’t have to. I would never-”

“I want to.”

You just want him. 

“Are you on the pill?”

“Mhm.” 

He exhales a sigh of relief, head dropping to thank whatever higher power exists for making this happen. The stars aligned to make this happen. He gets to fuck you now. Raw.

When his hands land on your ass, they’re shaky and unorganized. You can’t tell if it’s from adrenal of excitement. His cock is at the perfect angle to slot between your cheeks without the help of his hands. Jungkook pushes them together, rutting his hips into the tight squeeze, moaning softly when his pink tip pokes out at the top. 

“No more teasing,” you huff with a pout.

“Put me in then, sweetheart.”

Another term of endearment. You wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. If he knows how you feel about him and is levying that affection against you. Using sweet words to lull you into any situation of his choosing.

You sigh, reaching between your legs. His couch is so touch-starved from the foreplay, the orgasm you denied him, that the contact makes it jump. You rub the engorged head over your clit, flicking it up and down over the swollen nub.

“Thought you said no teasing.” He gruffs, strained and fucked out.

You nod in response, licking your lips as you guide him to your entrance. His heart beating so sternly in his chest that you can feel his pulse in the crown of his cock. So turned out and it’s all because of you.

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape when he slides in slowly. You’re both so wet from the shower and your own arousals, that there’s barely any resistance. Just a smooth glide until he’s buried to the hilt. Hushed, needy gasps escaping from both of you.

“Ah- fuck,” he grunts, hips jolting forward even though there’s no more length to give, pelvis mushing into you. You have to brace yourself with flat palms to prevent your head from knocking into the glass. “I’m in love with this pussy…”

The sweet, filthy words make you clench around him.

Jungkook watches with parted lips as he pulls out. Top lip twitching in a snarl when he sees how creamy and shiny you made his cock. You always do, but this is the first time he’s actually witnessing it, feeling it, without any barrier.

“My favorite pussy…” he whispers, gripping your waist as leverage before he starts pounding into you. Closing his eyes to focus on his rhythm, savoring the way your warm, wet, natural ridges feel on his cock

Even from behind, his curve does wonders on your g-spot. The smooth underside deliciously strokes that sweet spot with every deep plunge. Your breasts bounce when his hips crash into yours, making the very tips of your nipples teasingly brushing against the wet glass. The coolness sends tingles through your burning skin.

“When can I really play with you?” He pants. “Use my vibrator until you’re cumming buckets, huh?”

“Whenever we stay at yours…”

He doesn’t respond, leveling you with a simple hum instead.

“Nah, I prefer going to the girl’s place-” Jungkook had slurred to Taehyung, projecting his voice over the static of the party. Loud enough for your unsuspecting ears to pick up the sound. “I feel bad for asking them to leave after, so it just makes things easier.”

That was before you started hooking up, but the memory still stings.

A lightbulb turns on Jungkook’s brain as he watches the running water hit your back. He reaches for the shower head, clicking the silver lever three notches to the left. Jet mode.

The ugliest sob rips though your chest when he places it directly on your clit.

“Jungkook!” The stream is so powerful that it sends you into a panic.  “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” his lips are smushed to your temple, trying to shush your cries. “Gotta practice for the Hitachi, don’t you baby?”

The constant stimulation from the water and his cock makes your orgasm build up much quicker than anticipated. There’s wetness on your cheeks. It's not from the splashing water pummeling directly into your clit. You feel so euphoric and overstimulated that you’re crying. There’s nothing you can do to stop the unbearable pleasure that’s coursing through your veins. 

You nearly blackout when you cum. Vision blurry. Hearing fading in and out. Legs giving out underneath you. Jungkook has to catch you, abruptly dropping the shower head to wrap his big arms around your waist before you plummet to the ground in bliss.

When you can support yourself again, he hangs up the forgotten metal, maneuvering you around until you’re facing him. He picks you up with an inked arm hooked under your thighs, free hand grazing over your back in soothing circles.

“I didn’t push you too far, did I?” He asks worriedly.

You shake your head. He did, but you absolutely loved it. You peep when you feel the tip of his cook, still achingly hard, against your backside. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry.”

“No,” you protest. “Want you to cum too.”

He looks at you, gnawing on his bottom lip like he’s contemplating something. “I’ll be quick.”

Jungkook lays you down on the shower floor gently, the same way he does on your twin bed. A grimace laces through your features. Over the last month, you’ve been swamped with homework, putting a wedge in your normal routine. The last time you cleaned out the shower was two whole weeks ago.

Disgusting.

All complaints are forgotten when he’s inside of you, though. You would brace the bacteria and germs to have Jungkook between your legs. 

“You’re so pretty,” he huffs, admiring the way your hair fans out across the white porcelain. Leaning forward, Jungkook presses his entire weight on top of you, nuzzling his head into your shoulder. There’s a gust of wind on your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. 

The whole atmosphere feels different.

The slow sensual grind of his hips makes you dizzy. You swear you’re hallucinating when you feel his hands graze up your arms, fingers interlocking with yours. 

“Look at me.”

You crane your neck, wide eyes meeting his hooded ones. You breath hitches in your throat when you take in his expression. He’s looking at you the same way he did earlier.

If you didn’t know better, you would say he’s looking at you like he’s in love with you.

“I’m close,” he whispers, nudging his forehead against yours. He kisses you so delicately. There’s no heady teeth or rushed tongues. Just a sweet, soft kiss. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside.”

When he cums, it’s gentle and low. His hips never falter from their slow pace like they usually do when he climaxes. He doesn’t moan lewdly or say anything dirty. He just stays clung to you, panting softly until he rides out his high.

You feel so warm and happy when he fills you up. 

He stays on top of you while he catches his breath. You don’t mind, petite hands scratching over his back. Listening to the calming, rain-like sounds of the shower.

“Do you want to go to bed?” You peep after a few minutes.

“I can’t sleepover tonight, Bambi,” he coos, sitting back on his knees. You feel empty when he pulls out.  “I have a test tomorrow.”

“Oh… well, you’re still coming over tomorrow, right? So can we finish the season?” You question, recalling the pinky promise he made you last week.

“Raincheck,” he pouts. “I have something to do for one of my classes.”

You follow him to the door once you’re both dried off and dressed.

“Goodnight,” he places a dramatic kiss on the top of your head, pulling away with a little ‘muah’ sound. Something in the corner of your room catches his eye before he leaves. “Did you steal my hat?”

Your eyes follow his finger, pointing straight to the black bucket hat on your desk.

“You gave it to me.”

“I did?” He looks at you in confusion. “I don’t remember that.”

“Fuck off,” you groan, cocooning your blanket over your disturbed ears. You wanted nothing more than to rewatch Sailor Moon and mope, but the fireworks would not fucking stop. Where is campus police? And why are they letting dumb frat boys light off explosives?

You sigh, watching Usagi and Rei fight over Tuxedo Mask again. You know what the outcome will be. The thought of your favorite character falling victim to the unforgiving strain of unrequited love makes your heart hurt.

You tilt your head. Tuxedo Mask kinda looks like someone you know. 

The show was supposed to be distracting, make you forget the fact that you got stood up but a guy you’ve been crushing on for months. But even your alone time has become daunting. Consumed by him. Everything reminds you of Jungkook. 

Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook.

You sigh, closing out the app in favor of scrolling through Instagram. The first picture you see on your feed is of Nayeon. Just your luck.

It was posted two minutes ago. You recognize the ugly brown couch in the background. She’s clearly at a party, form-fitting black mini dress complimenting her figure perfectly. 

Your self-loathing mind guides your self-loathing fingers to zoom in on every little detail and compare yourself to her. Pretty hair. Perfect makeup. Tiny waist that curves out into her full hips. Long legs. Jungkook. Straight, pearly white teeth. Nice jawline-

Jungkook?

You do a double take, eyes scanning the photo until they land on him again. He’s lingering in the background, back against the wall, looking down at his phone. You stay zoomed in on him for a while, staring at your phone screen until your vision goes blurry. 

Every doubt and insecurity you’ve harbored over the last few months hits you in a drowning, suffocating wave. 

Exhausting valleys.

Why did you even agree to this? This stupid friends with benefits relationship.

You knew you would get hurt, but you didn’t think it would hurt this bad. Not only did he lie to you, he was with Nayeon.

Nayeon. You can’t fucking stand her-

You shake your head furiously and throw your phone to the foot of your bed. 

You don’t mean that��

Since when were you the type to hate another woman over a dumb guy? Or have unprotected sex? Or let someone so careless and selfish infiltrate your heart and mind?

How could you compare yourself to Nayeon when you two are in the exact same position?

You think about the night you fell for him, when he walked you home in the moonlight. She must have felt the same you do now. You’re similar in your desire to be with him, knowing you'll get hurt in the end.

Because being with Jungkook for a little while was better than not being with him at all.

It’s his eyes. They’re dark but so tender. The way they look at you like you’re the only thing that matters. The way they glow when he talks about things that interest him. Or how they dart up towards his forehead when he can’t find the right words to say-

“__?” Mina calls, standing in the doorway with a takeout bag. You hadn’t even noticed her come in.  “Why are you crying?”

“Huh?” You peep, eyes fluttering down to the little wet spots on your blanket. 

Without even realizing it, you had grown to love Jungkook so much. 

You spent the rest of the night sobbing in Mina’s arms.

© chryblossomjjk 2022 [do not copy, translate or repost]

[munson-blurbs]

Halloween idea anon here :) The first idea was Eddie and the reader doing the typical Halloween pranks (egging and TPing) on someone’s house and when they have to make a run for it to not get caught, when the light catches on their face, Eddie just thinks “yeah, I’m going to marry this girl one day”. The second idea was trick or treating with hellfire (because I cannot see Eddie ever outgrowing that and now they have freshmen in the club) and seeing the reader dressed as Galadriel or Arwen with the group she’s chaperoning and cutting each house visit short (much to the ire of Dustin) because he can’t let “the girl of (his) dreams” get away before he has a chance to talk to her after trying to work up the nerve all night. Sorry if neither of those are good ideas but thank you for letting me send them over!

Eddie falls head-over-heels for a fairy, but needs a little help talking to her.

Warnings: a little bit of language

WC: 990

A/N: This takes place in October 1986. Eddie & Steve are friends but obviously Eddie survived the Upside Down. Also, the LotR movies didn't come out till the early 2000s, so I decided to go with a D&D fairy costume! I hope that's all right!

--

Eddie Munson may be 20 years old, but he's not going to pass up the opportunity to go trick-or-treating. Dressing up in a sick costume and getting free candy? Sounds like a great time.

And now, he has a good excuse, since Dustin recruited him to drive the Hellfire Club (plus Steve) to the wealthier part of town. The kid had a whole plan mapped out based on the houses that gave the best candy in previous years. How could Eddie turn the poor guy down?

He’s dressed as a zombie rockstar, which consisted of an old concert t-shirt that he’d ripped holes in, ripped jeans, and some fake blood smeared across his face. He’d briefly considered bringing along Sweetheart, but didn’t want to risk any damage. 

“How are we always the goddamn babysitters?” Steve grumbles now, but Eddie knows he loves being adored by the kids. 

Before he can respond to Steve, something catches his eye a few houses down. A girl, about his age, standing behind two young kids, wearing a pair of fairy wings. But not just any fairy wings: she’s dressed as a fairy from Dungeons & Dragons.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes out. “Harrington, I think I’m in love.”

Steve meets his friend’s gaze, trying to keep an eye on the gaggle of children they’re somehow responsible for. “Oh, she’s cute.” He laughs at Eddie’s lovesick stare. “Go talk to her, Romeo.”

“W-what do I even say?” Eddie sputters, hands getting clammy. He clumsily wipes them on his pants.

Steve laughs, amused by Eddie’s nervous demeanor. “Why don’t you start with, ‘I like your costume’?” he says. “And, uh, try not to look like a total moron.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie grumbles, turning to Mike, Lucas, Erica, and Dustin, who are waiting on line to get full-size chocolate bars. “Little sheep, let’s go! Put a move on it!” he yells out, waving them back.

“We didn’t even get our candy yet!” Erica laments. “I am not leaving until I have a giant KitKat in my stash, got it?”

Eddie huffs as he walks over. “There are a million other houses we can hit up,” Like the one where the girl of my dreams is standing, he thinks. “Come on!”

“Seriously, dude,” Dustin says, “what’s your deal?”

“Eddie's got a big ol’ crush on that fairy princess over there,” Steve teases, pointing in your direction.

“Don’t point at her, Harrington!” Eddie hisses, burying his head in his hands. “Forget it. Get your stupid candy.”

But the group has already snapped into wingman mode. 

“Eddie,” Dustin crosses his arms over his chest, “how many girls do you know are into D&D?”

“Um, Little Sinclair pretty much starts and ends that list.”

“Exactly!” Lucas exclaims. “So there’s a beautiful girl fifty feet away from you, who not only knows what it is, but likes it enough to dress as a character from it. And you’re gonna let her slip away?”

“No, but--” Eddie starts before Mike cuts him off.

“But what? You have no excuse; we’re not toddlers. And Steve can stay with us while you get her number.”

“Save my spot, or else,” Erica orders the boys, and they know to heed her warning. “C’mon, Munson. Let’s hurry this up so I don’t miss out on any candy.”

“Uh, okay,” Eddie stammers as Erica grabs him by the wrist and pulls him over to you.

“Hi!” she says to you, giant grin plastered on her face. “I just wanted to tell you that I love your costume! Is this your D&D character?”

You clasp your hands together excitedly. “Yes!” you reply. “Finally, someone knows where this costume is from. You don’t know how many people have called me Tinkerbell tonight.”

“Actually,” Erica says coyly, pulling Eddie in front of her, “this long-haired freak was the one who noticed.”

“H-hi,” Eddie bites the inside of his lip, cringing at how nervous he sounds. “I’m Eddie. Her, uh, baby-sitter.”

“Chaperone,” Erica corrects him.

“Right, Chaperone.” He softly kicks his foot into the grass. “I’m also Hellfire Club’s Dungeon Master.”

“You play, too?” Your eyes light up, taking him in. “Well, duh, of course you do, if you’re the Dungeon Master. I’m Y/N, by the way.” Pink creeps into your cheeks, and Eddie thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. Plus, it makes him feel better about being anxious.

“Yeah. We started at Hawkins High, but when I graduated earlier this year, we just kept up the tradition outside of school,” he explains sheepishly. “Maybe you could join us sometime?”

He feels a kick to the back of his ankle before you can respond. “Ow!” he cries out, turning to Erica.

“That’s not a date, nerd,” she loudly whispers. “I am not missing out on rich people candy for you to half-ass this!”

Eddie hears you giggle and swerves back to rectify the situation. “Or, uh, we could go to that new café that opened downtown? I hear they have kick-ass food.”

You nod. “That would be great!” A small hand tugs on the hem of your green dress. “I have to get going,” you apologize, wishing you could talk to him all night. “I promised the kids I baby-sit that I’d take them trick-or-treating until our feet fall off.”

“No worries. It’s like the Cool Baby-Sitters’ Code,” he jokes, conversation flowing more naturally now. “Could I maybe get your number? So I can, y’know, call you?”

“Of course!” You reach into your purse and pull out a pen. When you realize you don’t have any paper, you grab his arm and write your phone number on it.

“I’ll call you,” he promises as you walk away and wave.

Erica stares up at him, clearly pleased with the situation.

“Thanks, kid,” he says, clapping a hand on her back. “You’re a better wingman than any of those guys.”

“Yeah, well,” she replies with a shrug. “I call dibs on bridesmaid.”

--

[siegelst]

Anonymous asked [

Curiosity - Passage of time [ Day 30 - escape] by Anonymous

Rated Explicit Mature 18+

clothes kink, major size kink, voice kink, karl has part lycan in him, scent-marking, tits, Karl's new roommate tries to escape.

warning: don’t know German but using google instead, sorry.

Day 30  - Escape

"Foreigners seem to have broke in your factory." said mother Miranda.  I scoff at this siting back with legs spread out, puffed a cigar. A faint echo of panic went through me. But I had a lie ready to recited. Believe in the lie. It’s been a month since that happened and now she discovers it.  "Why haven't you alerted me of these people?"

"Cause it’s very easy. They all dead! They f*cken died the day they broke into my factory." I barked, waving around my cigar in my left hand.  "I would think super size bi^ch would have said something after i left their bodies outside her door,"

"Only 1 out of the 5 you gave me was good." said super size bi^ch.  

"Oh? No thank you for me?" I sneered back, leaning forward.

"I thought there were 6?" muttered fish freak.

"You'll can't have all the fun! I wanted fun. So I used the last one before she met her end to Sturm." I gloat as i sit back, blew smoke before saying "She screamed wonderfully."

"Ugg you horrible disgusting man thing." She screeched.  I rolled my eyes as i puffed my cigar.  As if she wasn't taking in maidens in to do live experiments and have them bleed dry for her wine.  At least when i do experiments they are dead subjects. Device on me, made a noise. Motherf*cker. The meeting didn't end until 20 minutes later. 

female p.o.v.

After managing to pick the lock,  I started for the elevator before studying the map of the factory.   I went for the stairs that went down.  I ran into some rooms, some had medical tables.  having no idea where i was even if i had a map with me. I get lost easily.  If i find more stairs i get out of here right?  

The factory was noisy and the temperature was getting hot humid.  An Hour later i was still going through random halls. 30 minutes later i’m falling into a pit full of metal scraps. I climbed through the wreckage before finding a ladder high up.  I had to jump to the first bar before pulling up and walked along the metal beam. To find a landing with a machine with a level on it. I pushed it down. Nothing happened. Darn. Must not be enough energy.  

I found another walk beam that connects to main flooring. 20 minutes later i was in end of hallway before I looked down to see a bars blocking a tunnel that could be moved. After pulling i finally get it to move before crawling through the cobwebs tunnel.  I hear static as if from out of tune radio as i pulled myself out.  Ending up in a narrowed hall.  

"Oh Buttercup, you better not be escaping. I will find you." Oh no i thought he was gone for the day. As i crept toward other end of hall, go through another room, to see one his creation to be laying on table behind cage fence.  I couldn't get through.  "Best to turn yourself in and no one gets hurt"

Maybe i could break down the cage fence. Or go back into the tunnel. a snicker was heard. "You're lost again, buttercup?"  

I went back through the tunnel before going down a hallway. Crap, didn't i go through here before? I’m back in the rooms where medical tables at again, second guessing myself.  I open 1 door to see the walls littered with various sharp knives  and saws before closing it.   "You going in circles, darling.  You're lost! admit it!"

"Shut up"  I muttered as I started to try any door to get away. A booming laugh echo though the speakers. I took too many turns and find myself falling falling down until hitting cold water. 

I gasped & cough after resurfacing.  It was dark where I’m at. I find stable ground to pull myself out of the water and looked up to see how far I fallen. pretty dam* far apparently. Looks like I’m at rock bottom. I didn’t hear boss over the speakers. Maybe the speakers don’t reach down here?  walked some steps away before remembering i did have my phone on me. turning on the flashlight feature - i moved it around to see where i was.  Seems like these metals were abandon and i could see a old motorbike connected to a tank wheels, but didn’t seem to be finished yet.   I moved around some more before accidentally bump into a metal contraption.  Stepping back and walking around it i could make out that the metal contraption was a metal horse. Now that is neat and pretty. if only boss makes something like this instead of using dead bodies.

I turn around the humongous room before pausing to see shoes. for a second i thought it was my boss. but noticing that the shoes look old, ripped, and way bigger than his, and hearing a animal growl got my heart in my throat. Moving the light up up up to barely see a hairy man with the wildest mane of a lion that been fried from the snow.  I gulped and started backing up. I barely make out the sharp fangs, canines, the ripped clothes and the blood splatter on him and the gigantic hammer he was holding only shown slightly when reflected from the light cause the flashlight can only go so far. The dude looks to be 13 ft tall. I met my first lycan.  

The lycan picked me up in one hand, looked back to see the floor getting further further away, as i turn back to be inspected by the lycan. i raised my arms to cover my face. hearing the loud sniffing sounds filled my ears before we were interrupted by a voice.

“Now now Urias, don’t eat her.” said my boss, his voice dripping like hot caramel, as lights began to flicker on.  I see the lycan clearer and more terrifying, see metal scraps floating around  the room and see. . . my boss - using the metal scraps to walk down to us like a escalator. I glanced at the lycan as if to say ‘You seeing what i’m seeing?’. the lycan gave the an unimpressed look.  Boss landed on the ground, walking towards us, talking lower, his eyebrows raised up slightly. “Give her to me Urias. Now.”

There seem to be a warning in the way he spoke that line. If i had looked around I would noticed something was aiming at the lycan. but was too busy looking at the teeth on the guy. they were smeared with blood. The lycan didn’t want to for some odd reason. I’m cold from the water being held up 12-13 feet in the air by a lycan and I’m tired, and my shock is almost over so i could scream anytime.  I covered my face again as the lycan went near to sniff at me again before feeling something run up my face quickly, warm wet. . . . did the lycan just licked me??  Feeling i was being lowered before boss snatch me back, shoving me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. was it me or did he sighed in relief? nah my tired mind just playing tricks on me. “Thank you Urias. Go back to your den.”

He turned away to walk somewhere. I push on his back to glanced back at the large lycan, he was still standing there and the hammer was huge, dripping with blood against the floor. sh*t maybe boss was worried about the lycan eating me.

I was back at square one in the cell as boss threw me onto the old mattress. Leaning over me, his hand grip my face, him furious.

"You’re dam* lucky that Urias didn’t see you as wolf chow, Buttercup.” He hissed at me. His forearm was hot against my wet cloths. “Otherwise I be mopping up your remains of your bones if it wasn’t.”

A metal chain cuff clicked my ankle. He pulled me right up against him my body leaving the bed slightly. “How the F*ck did you get out?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, giving him the look of ‘I ain’t telling you.’.  Next thing i know i was, thrown over his thighs  - his thighs against my stomach and felt a hard smack on my backside. D-did he just spank me?? once the shock of him spanking me I start to yell and struggling but he wasn’t budging.  He was yelling in German.

Heisenberg. p.o.v. 

The bi*ch brought this on onto herself. i thought as I laid a harsh hand against her cloth backside. “Du undankbare Schlampe, du hättest getötet werden können von Urias. Oh, jetzt bist du wütend? naja ich bin es auch. Hör auf herumzuschlagen, Scheiße.” 

Finally i get to see my new roommate mad. she was drench from her trip in the water channel, wetting my clothes in result of it. Her cloths sticking to her like second skin leaving nothing to my imagination. view of her nipples perked through her thin layer of tank top and my button up shirt dripping with excess water onto the cell floor. I pulled her back by her hair to drag her up to see if she’ll tell me. she shook her head.  Darling i could do this all day. I felt myself stiffen. Her cries and angry shouts means nothing.

Knowing where she was roughly when she fell, still didn’t stop my heart skip in panic. Arriving to sight of her in the hands of a12 ft lycan in the air, water glistening on her skin, her collarbone, neck, face, her tits tightening due to the cold, practically begging to be touch, and seeing Urias taking an interest in her was enough for me to start sweating. Of course she runs into the tallest lycan there is.

Her shocked face was barely make out with Urias hand snaked around her middle easily. F*ck even I was getting nervous. Urias licking her was a heart-stopping - almost had me shoot a rod between the bunny and the giant wolf. as he lowered the lass back to me, gave me huge relief she was back to me unharmed. her wet body bumping against my back, shoulders and chest as i stomped back to the cell was torture. I was brought to present as her finally breaking, sobbing over my lap. I felt myself twitch. 

“How the F*CK did you get out?” I growled, my hand cupping her under her chin to raise her up. I feel burn of her skin, my forearm brush against her tits briefly, making my cock jump in interests.  

“Bobby pin.” she hiccuped, trying not to cry in front of me. I glanced down toward the door of the cell, and sure enough see a non-metal bobby pin on the ground.

I shoved her off my lap, her hitting to cold cell floor, another chain attached to her other leg, her cold body shaking. I nudge her so she lay on her back, and pressed my shoe lightly onto the side of her stomach. She looked up at me in daze confused as she glanced at my shoe worriedly, her body displayed for me. before I removed my foot.

“Better get comfortable Buttercup” I said, as I stood, walked out of the cell. “You going to be here for a while.” 

Closed the cell, after obtaining the bobby pin and walked out of the room, ignoring her yapping, I have business to take care of.

translation:

You ungrateful bi*tch, you could have been killed by Urias. oh now you're angry? well so am I. Quit thrashing around, f*ck

[whumpasaurus101]

I wanna write more training pieces so here's my attempt at it and also making a new oc I simp for. great :D..... but also I'm calling out Tabea (@happy-whumper) damn right I'm pinging u xD bc Tabea also simps for her so uhh, yeah. XD

CW: overworked/over-trained / cursing /

“Right, left, duck. Right, left, du-.... well that wasn't a very good duck.” “Well, it was an attempt, since you called the duck late, about a second before you fucking hit me!” “Well, in a match you won't have any warning, so, get better.”

Asher rolled his eyes, “Whatever, this is stupid, you're a shit trainer.” “Watch your mouth,” Antonio warned. “Fuck off.”

Antonio quickly ripped off the training pads and punched Asher right across the face. Asher only stumbled back, making Antonio growl and tackle him to the ground. He landed punch after punch at Asher, watching as blood poured out from his nose. It still wasn't enough to get his anger out. “Hey, hey! Anto, lay off! Doesn't he have a match in a few days?!” Another trainer yelled as she looked up from her phone. “He does, and I have to make sure he doesn't lose,” Antonio growled. “Well, how does beating the mutt up help?”

Antonio took several breaths to calm himself down and punched Asher one last time before getting off of him, “I don't like when you're right, Sandra.” Sandra grinned and stood up, “That's what I'm here for!” She strolled over and knelt down beside Asher, cupping his cheek and turning his face towards her, “What's such a pretty mutt doing in a place like here?”

Asher just clenched his jaw, eyes studying her full sleeve tattoos on both arms, her left hand was more full and had tattoos crawling around her wrists and on her fingers. Antonio scoffed, “Don't let his looks fool you, he’s a fucking animal. Should be caged and locked up if you ask me, and stubborn as fuck. He's a nightmare to train, I've never had such a difficult dog to train.”

Asher chuckled, “You're welcome.” Sandra laughed, “Oh these are my favourite!!!” She smiled, excited. “Say, how about you take a break and I can train him myself, hm?” Antonio practically jumped at the suggestion, “Yes! Of course! Go ahead! Please!”

“Alright alright, calm the fuck down, I know you’ll miss me, babycakes,” Asker smirked with a wink. Antonio went to leap at Antonio but Sandra quickly held him back, “Woah woah there mister tough guy, break, now.”

Once Antonio left -slamming the door behind him of course- Sandra silently studied Asher for a moment and smiled, “You are pretty!” Asher scoffed, “Uhm… you already said that.” Sandra looked taken back for a moment, “Well, I'm sorry mister ‘you can't repeat shit’ police.” Asher's eyebrows furrowed, “That was a long description.” “Dude, are you seriously going to insult every sentence I say?” “No….. not unless you say something that an insult is necessary to.”

Sandra looked at him for a moment before clapping her hands, “Right! This is not an English class. Let's actually do the fighting bit.” Asher yawned before slowly getting up, wiping the blood from his upper lip but only for more blood to fall. “Come onnnnnnn, Mr Slowcoach, we don't have all day.”

“Oh, how rude of me, I should be all ‘yippeeeeee!! Wooohooo!!! I just love being treated as anything but human!!!’ Oh dear, how terrible of me, however could you forgive me I-” He was quickly backhanded across the face. “Okay listen, I'm not like Antonio. I know Anto is tough but gives up quick. But honey, I'm not like that,” She cooed, cupping Asher’s face and smearing the blood from his nose with her thumb.

Asher growled. He knew who Sandra reminded him of. That absolute psycho bitch, Alicia. He bared his teeth and Sandra laughed, “Awwww, do we have a tough wittle puppy,” Sandra spoke in a fake baby voice, “Oh look how scary! However, will I train such a scary puppy?!... Oh wait.”

She quickly kneed him in the stomach and kicked him backwards, “Look, I know you're going to try and be smart, give some comments and talk back, but I've dealt with worse than you. So there's no point. Now, get up off your ass and start practising your punches at that fucking punching bag before I rip all of your fingernails off.” As the sentence went on, Sandra grew louder, making Asher flinch.

He growled once more but slowly stood up and walked to the punching bag. He slowly raised his fist and threw a weak punch before turning back with a bored expression on his face, “My shoulder hurts,” He grumbled. Sandra sighed, stormed over and dug her fingernails in the back of his neck and he let out a cry, “Listen to me, you better throw the biggest punch at that bag before I show you how strong my punch is.”

Asher rolled his eyes, “What time is it?”

“Why?”

“What time is it?” “Why?” “Will you just fucking answer my question!?” “You answer mine first!”

Asher felt a sudden explosion in his chest and his breathing grew heavy. He quickly turned around and threw a punch at Sandra. Before the fist could connect with her face, Sandra quickly grabbed his wrist, spun him around and twisted his arm behind his back and twisted at an uncomfortable angle. Asher let out a cry. He couldn't dislocate his shoulder again.

“STOP!! I- I- I have a match! You're going to- fuck! PLEASE!!! STOP!” Just as tears began to fall, Sandra let go, “Not so full of shit now, are ya?” She grinned. Asher collapsed to the ground, gripping his shoulder, crying, “F-fuck you,” He whined.

“Now! Back to the punching bag, c’mon, you couldn't be physically any slower.” Asher couldn't force himself up. He was so tired and sore. And just all together sick of this place. He wanted to go home, he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Asher channelled his anger and put all he could in his punches, they were pretty hard. He even surprised himself with how strong he was punching. He let out a yell and threw combos of punches, he was angry. He hated this place. He hated it here. He hated her. He hated everyone. Everyone who made his life a living misery.

He couldn't stop now. He couldn't slow his attacks to the bag. “Alright, you can stop, I just wanted to see how strong you could punch.” Asher didn't listen, in fact, his punches almost sped up. Sweat started dripping down his fringe of curls, slowly rolling down his face.

“Asher.” Shut up! He thought to himself You wanted me to do this and now you want me to stop. JUST SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP, “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT U-”

“Asher!”

The voice cut into his brain. It was Antonio. A sudden wave of nausea hit Asher and he collapsed to the ground. He overdid it. He was overworked. He was exhausted. He was hurting. He wanted to go home.

… home? No. no, he didn't call Rodger’s house ‘home’. He’d never do that!!! No! He just needed everything to stop spinning. Everything to not be so loud and bright. And that's when a wave of darkness hit him and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he lay on the training room’s mat, hearing the very distant yelling of someone shouting at him to get up. And then. Then there was quietness. Silence. Peace.

---

Taglist:

@likeit-or-whumpit @milk-carton-whump @yesthisiswhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @appy-polly-loggies @happy-whumper @myst-in-the-mirror @tears-and-lilies @heathenwhump

[abarbaricyalp]

I looooved what you wrote for my first prompt!! I have another if you're down :D

How about Bucky starts talking about how hot/sweet/great he thinks Sam is in another language (not knowing Sam speaks it) but using an insulting tone so it wouldn't sound like he was complimenting him (possibly during an undercover mission, where Sam can't react to what he is saying) until Bucky goes on a "tirade" but really getting pretty graphic about what he wants to do to Sam or wants Sam to do to him, causing Sam to spit take or choke on his drink before Bucky catches on that he can understand and just dies on the inside until they finish the mission and Sam can respond <3 <3

Thanks again, Friend!

Always taking prompts <3

(never) Lost in Translation

Read on AO3

“Я вас любил безмолвно, безнадежно,” Bucky breathed into the cold air as he curled his fingers around the stock of his rifle and shifted his hips against the rooftop. “То робостью, то ревностью томим; Я вас любил так искренно, так нежно--” [I loved you hopelessly and mutely, Now with shyness, now with jealousy being vexed; I loved you so sincerely, so fondly--"I Loved You" by Alexander Pushkin]

“Huh?” Sam asked on the other end of the comm line.

“Just trying to stay awake, Wilson,” Bucky answered. “Maybe you can sit out here and give your mouth frostbite.”

“Give it another hour or so and I’ll warm you back up, Barnes,” Sam promised and Bucky could hear the smile in his voice, which was enough to stave off the chill for a while longer.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know who made a nest of jackets and my mom’s blanket next to my hospital bed?” Sam asked at two in the morning when Bucky slunk back into the hospital room and the mess he’d turned the two small chairs next to the bed into.

Bucky considered continuing to sulk in the shadows in silence. But it was the first time Sam was awake in nineteen hours and he was pretty fucking sick of the quiet at this point. “Sarah brought the blanket,” he said. He leaned forward to reach for Sam’s hand, curling his fingers around the bandages and splints gently.

“Yeah, but I know Sarah’s not sleeping in my room. It can’t have been so long that you felt the need to move in, man.”

“I’m not moved in ,” Bucky defended. “Just didn’t know how long it would be. And it’s fucking cold in this building.”

“Wouldn’t know.” Sam tried to shift in the bed and let out a gasp of pain.

“Yeah, you probably don’t want to move too much. Figured you could work that one out on your own, with that big ass cast around your ribs,” Bucky said. But his brow was drawn in in worry and he brought his other hand to Sam’s hip, arching it gently over the thin fabric of the gown.

Sam relaxed back into the bed as much as he could. “I hate sleeping on my back,” he said.

“Sorry, I’ll be sure they accommodate that next time your ribs are sticking out of your skin.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Maybe a little,” Bucky agreed. “You’re gonna have to get over it though. You need to rest.”

“I’ve been asleep for a day,” Sam said. “Come on, can’t you believe I miss you?”

Bucky barked out a laugh and shook his head. “No, I don’t believe that at all. And you can’t miss me anymore than I miss you. I’m the conscious one.”

Sam preened and then his eyes drifted shut. Bucky squeezed his hand gently and began to hum under his breath until the flickering of Sam’s eyes settled down. “Que ce soit dimanche ou lundi / Soir ou matin minuit midi /Dans l'enfer ou le paradis /Les amours aux amours ressemblent /C'était hier que je t'ai dit /Nous dormirons ensemble,” he sang softly. Sam let out a soft breath and finally fell asleep. [ Whether it be Sunday Monday/ Evening ,morning, midnight, midday / Whether it be in hell, in paradise, /Love-affairs look like each other. /I said to you just Yesterday: /We shall sleep together. "Nous Dormions Ensemble" "We'll Sleep Together" Louis Aragon]

“I told you to cover Torres on the left!” Sam shouted as he landed heavily on the rubble of the street.

                                                                                       “أنت تعني الكثير بالنسبة لي” Bucky bit back. “You were in more trouble than he was. I told you to get out of the air.” [You mean so much to me]

 “I’m sorry,” Sam snorted. “Are you leading this mission? Are you Captain America all of a sudden?”

                                                                           “أنت تجعلني أريد أن أكون رجلاً أفضل” Bucky muttered. “I’ve always been the one with the brain cells when Captain America’s around.” [ You make me want to be a better man.]

 “For what it’s worth, guys, I’m fine,” Torres said. “Caught the bad guys. Didn’t get eaten. Alls well that ends well. Unless this is, like, foreplay or something for you two. In which case, I want to get back to the jet before you keep going.”

“Shut up, Torres,” Bucky snapped. “There’s a---thing behind you,” he added, exhausted and confused about what it was exactly that they were fighting. Torres turned around, too slowly, to stare at the limping creature of some underwater origin and Sam ripped the shield from his back to fling at the monster. With a squelch and a groan, it toppled over and the shield bounced back to Sam’s arm.

                                                                                           “إنك في غاية الجمال” Bucky breathed and rubbed his human hand over his face, smearing ash and sweat until it stung his eyes. “Torres, do an aerial scan for stragglers. Wilson and I’ll survey damage down here.” [ You’re so beautiful]

 “Oh, no, Wilson . You’re in trouble,” Torres laughed. He clapped Sam’s shoulder as he walked past and then shot into the sky when the area was clear enough to.

“You’re too hard on him,” Sam said as he started to kick over blocks of asphalt. “He’s a trained soldier, y’know. He’s not some helpless kid.”

 Bucky snorted and kneeled down to run his metal hand through a puddle of water on the ground, watching silver ripple across the current.                                                                  “مائة قلب لن يكونوا كافيين لحمل كل حبي لك” he said, and then, “He was never trained for those wings.” [ A hundred hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you.]

 “He helped build those wings. He trained with Exo-Skeletons. The wings are in perfectly capable hands.”

“Make sure clean up takes samples of the water,” Bucky said. “I think there are organisms in there,” he said as he stood up and wiped his hand on his pants.

“How hard did you just have to work, after Torres put foreplay in your head, to not say orgasms?” Sam teased, shooting an easy, if slightly bloody grin, at Bucky.

                                                                                “أنت إشراقة شمسي يا حبي” Bucky sighed and shook his head. “Let’s get home. You obviously have a concussion.” [ You are my sunshine, my love.]

 “Hey, just ‘cause I’m funnier than you and know your depraved mind well enough to say something like that doesn’t make me damaged,” Sam said, jogging to catch up with Bucky.

“Does he talk?” villain-du-jour asked, appraising what was supposed to be the Winter Soldier but was really just Bucky bored out of his skull.

“If you want him to,” Torres said with a shrug. “Most people don’t.”

“See,” Sam said in Bucky’s earpiece. “I told you he’d kill this.”

And, unfortunately, Torres really was killing it. Torres seemed to be afflicted with the same dramatic streak that Steve had, in that Steve was everyone’s best-friend-ray-of-sunshine until shit got real. Or the mission required him to play some shady underworld super-assassin dealer, apparently.

“I heard he malfunctioned with Zemo,” unidentified baddie said cautiously. “I heard the programming had been washed out.”

Torres reached over to cuff Bucky against the back of the head. “Does he look deprogrammed? Do you think I’d be standing here if he was deprogrammed?”

Bucky had to fight not to let a glare slide over to Torres. He kept his eyes and his grimace set straight ahead. He’d feel better if there was a rifle in his hands.

“It’s not my fault Baron Zemo didn’t have the balls to control the Soldier. I assume that won’t be a problem for you. But, hey, I could be wrong. In which case, I’ll just take him back. Putting him on ice is easier the less time he’s out.”

“I’m glad he never decides to be such a shit with me,” Sam said. The bad guy said something else and Bucky fully tuned it out. “Hey, Barnes,” Sam said in his ear. “What’re you wearing?” he teased. Bucky’s jaw jumped. “One day, we’re gonna see how quickly I can get all that tac-gear off of you. Or maybe just the top half. The rest of you looks damn good in black.”

Bucky bit the side of his tongue, listened to the asshole across the room talk about not being able to communicate to lapsed partners since he only spoke English, about wanting to send a message, about how many languages the Soldier knew and if he talked while breaking bones.

“Do you think we do better undressing each other on the jet or off of it. Sure, there’s turbulence, but we also have all that adrenaline pushing us on. Besides, I know you like things hard. You wouldn’t like me so much if you didn’t.”

“Soldier?” Torres said at his side. “A sample of your voice.”

“ I’m gonna throw my partner across that table as soon as we kick all your asses ,” he said in Russian. “ He gets pretty fucking quiet when he’s getting dicked down well. It’s actually the only time he shuts up. ”

The hapless moron across the room looked delighted. “What about French?”

“ You’d think getting him down on his knees would work better but it never has for me. He’s always gotta have the last word in edgewise. Lengthwise, as it may be. No fuckin’ hair to grab onto either. You’ve just gotta listen to him .”

“Spanish?”

“ Probably won’t stop in here. I’ll drag him back to our jet and do it all over again. Or let him do it to me. I’m really not picky when it comes to him. Especially not when he’s wearing the uniform he is right now. I like getting it off of him as much as I like how it looks on him .”

“ Damn, dude, I speak Spanish ,” Torres hissed back in Spanish. “ Spare my ears, please .”

The arms-idiot grinned like a kid on Christmas. “Yeah, that’ll do. Your money’s in here,” he said, sliding a briefcase across the floor.

“Ready?” Sam asked in the ear piece.

“ We never speak of it again ,” Bucky said to Torres. “ If you tell him, I’ll drop your ass in Siberia. ”

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Torres said, gesturing over to the other man. Bucky went and got them, Sam coming down through a skylight and Torres taking care of the guards behind them.

“I was thinking about getting my own place down here,” Sam said. “Even if it’s just a one bedroom or something. You know, for when Buck’s here too.”

“Tu vas bouleverser les garçons,” Sarah answered. [You'll upset the boys]

“Huh?” Bucky asked, looking up from toying with a remote control airplane that had an unfortunate run-in with a tree.

“They’re still not in French classes?” Sam asked. “Isn’t AJ old enough?”

“He’s taking Spanish instead.”

“Traitor,” Sam said easily. “Cela n'a pas besoin d'être codé.” [This doesn't need to be encoded]

“Votre vie sexuelle fait.” [Your sex life does]

“Ha! Comme si.” [Ha! As if]

“Wait, you two know French?” Bucky asked. The airplane had been thoroughly forgotten.

“Sure, it’s one of two languages offered at our high school,” Sarah said. “Sam was obsessed with learning Creole so not only did he take French, he took AP French. And scored a five on the test. Hey, aren’t you a polyglot, technically?”

“What?” Bucky asked as dawning horror unleashed a flood of embarrassment through him. And, well, a bunch of other feelings too, which would require French to say aloud, apparently. He packed those away.

“I don’t know if there are qualifications, but I speak a few languages,” Sam agreed and he finally looked over at Bucky with a smirk. “English, French. A little Spanish. The Air Force gave us Russian lessons. I picked up Arabic overseas.”

Fuck, Bucky though. Merde. Maldita sea. Черт побери.

“He absorbs languages like a sponge,” Sarah said to Bucky. “AJ is pretty similar,” she added towards Sam. “His teacher says he’s the best in the class.”

“Of course he is,” Sam said. “He’s a Wilson.”

A timer went off and Sarah muttered lightly under her breath. “I’ve got to run and grab Cass from school. Can you stay here and get AJ off the bus?” she asked, already grabbing her purse and heading for the door.

“Bye, Sarah,” Bucky called after her before rounding on Sam as the door shut.

“Hey, you never asked,” Sam defended, leaning back against the counter. “And it never sounded like you wanted an answer when you were serenading me in French. Gotta wonder why you’ve got Russian poetry memorized though--Hey!” Sam yelped as Bucky crossed the living room to the kitchen and stood between his legs, hands on either side of his body on the counter.

“Ты должен был сказать мне раньше,” he breathed. Sam shivered against him. [You should have told me sooner]

“Pourquoi?” he asked, like he was in any way innocent. [Why?]

Bucky brushed his mouth along Sam’s neck, felt his pulse jump at the contact. “Tu sais ce que ça me fait,” he murmured. [You know what it does to me]

“Languages?” Sam asked as his hand found the small of Bucky’s back and then the rest of his spine, up to his shoulders, the seam of his metal arm, his ribs.

“You showin’ off,” Bucky corrected.

Sam hummed because he did know that. “It was more fun to watch you think you were getting away with something. You get real sweet when you think I can’t hear.”

Bucky nipped at his collarbone and Sam gasped out a breath, almost let it convince him to leave Bucky there, but eventually pushed him away. “I was serious about getting our own place. I will never emotionally recover if one of the kids walks in on me making out with you. I’m supposed to be typifying standards.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and pinched Sam’s side. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, but a smart one,” Sam said with a grin. “Which is apparently your type.

And, dammit, it was.

“By the way,” he added, “Clint taught me ASL, so I know what you tell him about me too.”

Bucky groaned and threw himself back over the couch.

[thewritingstar]

Paper Hearts

Pairing: Buttercup x Butch (butchercup)

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls 

Note: This was a commission for the wonderful @over-under-through1​ This was super fun to do and even though I rewrote it over and over, I think this is the soft and sassy greens we all have been wanting. Thank you to miss grace for commissioning me!!! 

------

“Did you get the answer to problem six?” Blossom asked.

Butch moved his pen towards the problem and relized that he hadn’t even finished the two before it. His lab partner just gave him a disappointed glare before moving on to do it herself.

“You’re spacing out again Butch.” Blossom stated.

“I’m not spacing out.” He said without even giving her a glance.

“For starters you are doodling little hearts in green ink instead of finishing the problem.” Blossom pointed out.

He glanced at his marked up paper. Green ink lined the margins with little hearts that he subconsciously made and he tore it out of the notebook before flipping to a fresh page and jotting down the rest of the questions.

A small giggle came from the other side of the table and he looked to see the pink puff hiding the noise behind her hand.

“What's so funny?” He tried to give her a cold stare that would scare the average person but had no effect on her.

“I just think its funny how you are considered one of the toughest people on the planet and yet you can’t even ask a girl out.” She snickered as she scribbled down more answers flawlessly.

Butch rolled his eyes and grunted. The smirk displayed on the puffs face was making him see red and possibly attack that bow as if he were a bull in a ring. “I’m not a pussy if that's what you’re thinking Pink.” He sneered with little to no reaction from her. “I could easily ask out any chick I wanted. Piece of cake.”

Her pen was set down and she folded her arms. “Alright then, then do it.”

“Easy peasy.” He scoffed and looked around the library. Luckily for him all the libraries held a pleather of selection and he thanked college for the assortment. A few tables ahead of them was a girl. She was busy with her head in a book and he began to get up.

“That's not what I meant Butch.” Blossom said as she trapped his foot under her heel.

His butt plopped back into the chair. “You said ask a girl out, that's what I’m doing.”

The redhead raised her brow before leaning over and grabbing the crumpled paper from his bag, along with several other papers that had various hearts and doodles all made from green ink. A small tint of red dusted his cheeks as more and more papers came undone.

“Ask her out.” She pointed to the paper. “You might think you’re fooling everyone else but I know you have, dare I even say, the hots for my sister.”

His eyes widened at the statement. “Excuse me?” He scoffed before grabbing the papers back into the bag where they belonged. “I do not have a crush on your sister, let alone my best friend.”

Blossom leaned back in her chair and twirled a pen between her fingers. If there was one thing Blossom was good at besides being the leader of the most powerful group of superheroes and organizing homework, it was getting the truth.

His eyes matched against the pink gaze and he could feel the sweat on his forehead as she continued to size him up.

“Really?” She broke their staring match. “Alright then.” She went back to her chemistry lab.

“Okay fine.” He grunted. He looked around the room hoping that no one would hear them but luckily it was pretty empty during this time and no one had the luxury of super hearing like them. “I like her, so what?”

“Then ask her out.” Blossom said as if she had solved the biggest mystery in the world. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um she could say no and then it would ruin literally everything. Thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

She fell silent to that and they spent the next ten minutes on their lab assignment. He managed to get through another sheet of problems but the confession was still in the air.

“So you’re okay then?” Blossom finally spoke.

“Okay with what?”

“Just being her friend and not doing anything?”

He let out a sigh. “What if it messes everything up?” It was a fear he had since he discovered his true feelings about her. He valued her friendship more than anything else and he didn’t need his hormones running a good thing.

“What if it doesn’t?” She gave him an empathetic look. “You know I wouldn’t be saying anything if I didn’t think anything could happen. You’re not the only one who feels this way, that I am sure of.”

The thought of Buttercup possibly liking him back, even for a second made his heart race.

“I would just hate for you to realize that you lost something you could have had sooner. You always rush head first into things and live on the wild side, don’t hesitate with this.”

He would be lying if he didn’t think that they had gotten closer over the years, really close. They would sit with their shoulders touching during movies and even go as far as sharing a drink sometimes. He would lend her his jacket if it was cold and would make sure to walk her home from her night class even though he knew she could handle herself, he just really liked being around her.

There had been long nights spent staring at the ceiling until the sun would peak through the window as he thought about their dynamic changing. It changed for his brothers and both couples seemed to be destined pairs, so why not them? So what if he thought about holding her close or kissing her before classes. Maybe once in a while he wondered what it would be like to be her boyfriend and to love and cherish her without restraint.  

Blossom stood and began to put away the array of notes and books around the table.

“Study time isn’t over yet?” He said.

She laughed lightly before patting his shoulder. “There's other chemistry you can be focusing on right now. So don’t be a pussy.” And she left him alone at the table feeling flustered and red as her bow.

He stared at the clock on the wall. He had about two hours before the evening classes got out. His stomach twisted into small knots as he tried to shake this overwhelming feeling of doubt out of his head. Those thoughts were being pushed away as he grabbed his textbook and stack of notes and put them in his bag.

He took one look at the newest ink doodles before grabbing it and shoving the crumpled wad into his jacket pocket.

“Don’t be a pussy.” He muttered to himself before leaving.

----

The sun was starting to set as he paced in front of his mirror for the past hour. He had gotten into the shower, a warm one to suds up his hair and then immediately back in for a freezing cold one to clear his mind and tame his senses.

He faced the mirror, hair dripping slightly as he ignored the longer black bangs that he usually spiked up. His reflection looked scared and uncertain. He took in everything Blossom had said and she even texted him some more but even with her support, he felt dizzy and unsure.

He took in a deep breath trying to calm himself down and not freak out.

“Alright Butch this is easy. You’ve asked out so many chicks before. Granted you never really liked them as much as her because, well, it's Buttercup and no one is better than her.” he said a little too fast for his own liking. “This will be simple. Just look into her eyes. Those soft green eyes that remind you of green tea and matcha, which happens to be her favorite drinks of course.” He laughed to himself.

He relaxed a little before grabbing his comb and threading it through his hair. “Not to mention the way her eyes sparkle when she's fighting a monster or watching a scary movie. Well maybe not all of that, don’t scare her, dumb ass. Keep it simple and classy.”

The bathroom filled with the scent of pine as he sprayed his chest and threw on a plain black shirt and skinny jeans. “How’s this.” He flashed a grin at the mirror and made finger guns. “Let’s fuck.”

“That's terrible, do not say that!” Boomer called from the other side of the door making Butch slightly jump.

“Shut the fuck up Boomer!” He shouted before grabbing his jacket and flipping off his little brother who was laughing on the couch. Fuck super hearing.

“You got this bro!” The blond called after him and Butch only slammed the door shut and let out a sigh before walking outside.

--

The October air was cool this time of night. The only sound he could hear was the buzzing through his headphones and the thumping of his loud ass heartbeat. His back came to a tree that was just outside her last class of the night. He never truly understood why she wanted to take classes at night, let alone Friday night.

He shoved his hands in his pocket and felt the bunched up paper. He pulled it out and unfolded it. Some of the ink had smeared lightly but the hearts were still intact for the most part.

“Don’t be a pussy.” He whispered to himself. “But also don’t lose everything.”

He stared at the paper before taking the corners and ripping them up and tossing them in the trash can near him. A disgruntled sigh left his lips and he wished that the ground would open up into a vortex and swallow him whole, never to be heard of again.

His mind had been at full speed since the library and he wondered if he should even tell her. How do you be friends with someone for more than ten years and then all of sudden change that?

It should be easy but unlike his brothers and her sisters, they were not the soft and emotional pair. The sappy love songs were always skipped and romance movies turned to comedies with them. He didn’t even know if she would like a bouquet of flowers or just to punch him in the face. Even if he did ask her out, would she even believe him? Would he?

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and the class began to file out. He had made the decision to leave this conversation for another day, maybe try a romantic setting or something else.

“Sup dude.” Buttercup grinned at him as their fists collided for a fist bump.

“Sup.” He responded.

“Eh class was boring, just a lecture but what can ya do?” She laughed and they fell into a rhythm as they walked.

They talked aimlessly and even their causally conversation was making him shutter and wish for more.

“Hey do you wanna stop and get some coffee? Think I’m gonna stay up and finish some chem homework.” He nodded towards the cafe that was open at all hours. She looked towards him and nodded before a small breeze came and she felt the hair on her neck stand up as goose bumps kissed her skin.

The fabric of his jacket overlapped her shoulders. “You never wear a jacket dummy. Wait here and I’ll go get us some.”

“Thanks.” She said just loud enough to hear.

The cool air swirled around him as he opened the doors to the shop but he felt like he was in the pits of hell. He had been secretly sweating and felt gross knowing that he was so incredibly nervous and hoped that she couldn’t notice.

He walked outside, two cups in his hands, the warm liquid slightly burning his palms but in a relaxing way. He found her standing next to a bench, her eyes focused on something in her hand.

“Here you go-” Butch stopped as his gaze traveled to the piece of paper she was holding.

A corner of a paper with a green ink heart and the letter B + B scribble aimlessly inside. He thought he had thrown out all the paper but of course the universe had decided to go against his wishes.

She saw his eyes widened as she took the coffee before focusing on the heart again. “It's cute.” She said before meeting his gaze.

“That's nothing. Chemistry stuff.” He played it off and took a gulp of his coffee ignoring the fact that it was burning his throat.

She hummed and smiled before sitting on the bench. Luckily the place had thinned out and was practically empty except for the few students stopping to get caffeinated.

“Chemistry huh?”

“Yep.” he popped the P.

Buttercup chuckled softly before leaning her arm on the back of the bench and holding up the paper.

“So do you want me to ignore it or did you want to give your sweaty declaration?”

He gulped. “What do you want me to do?”

She sat for a moment looking at the paper.  

“Dealers choice.” Buttercup smiled before placing it in his hand.

Confidence had always been Butch’s strong suit. At the age of seven he had already built up a wall to counteract anything and anyone thrown his way. Being born as a villain to society meant he had to reinvent his title and he had done it so carefully. He was known to be the rowdy bad boy who could have the room's attention on him with a joke or even a wink.

Doubt was hardly in his ball park and he tended to act first, think later in every aspect of his life. The cockyness and the wittyness had always been there but he felt most like himself when those walls became transparent around her.

He could lie and say it's nothing and maybe a week or month would pass and the moment would spark and he would confess, however she looked like she was more than ready to accept whatever was to be said. Almost like she had been waiting for it.

“I would just hate for you to realize that you lost something you could have had sooner. You always rush head first into things and live on the wild side, don’t hesitate with this.”

Blossoms words played in his head like a broken stereo on repeat. He didn’t want to hesitate. He didn’t want to live with regrets. The butterflies in his stomach had died down slightly. Whatever speech he had planned in the bathroom was long gone. It would be best to speak from his heart than sound like some animated doll who only had five things to say.  

Butch curled his palm. “Alright then.” He said with confidence. He turned to match her stone cold gaze and tight smirk. They loved to play the stare game but right now he wanted to win this war. “Enough bullshit then.”

She tilted her head with interest as he begged for an ounce of confidence to come and rescue him so that he didn’t seem like a sweaty hormonal boy. A soft hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Butch.” She said softly. “Breath. It’s just me.” She winked.

And she was right. He gave her a nod and her hands went back to her lap.

“Buttercup, I spent the last hour trying to think of what to say to you. My head was filled with all these emotions of how I think you’re not only the hottest and coolest girl alive, but how you are my best friend. The thing is I was working myself up over nothing because we know that you like me and I like you.”

She hummed at the statement and took another sip of her coffee.

“Which is why a sappy declaration of why I think your eyes are stunning or how you have a nice ass will not do.”

“I do have a nice ass.” She smirked.

“Yeah well I like telling you that. So.” He held up the paper. “What do you say BC?”

She took the paper with a bright smile. “I think, ‘Wanna fuck?’ would have summed it up.” She said in a low tone mocking his voice.  

“Okay ya know what? Boomer yelled at me for that so I blame him.” They shared a laugh before she set her cup down and cupped his cheek with her hand.

“For the record I don’t mind the sappy shit, at least coming from you.”

He bent down until their noses bummed before tilting his head and capturing her lips slowly. He had always imagined that their first kiss would be ignited by passion or lust, maybe a near death situation. But this right here, sitting in a park on a cool autumn night while sipping on cheap and slightly burned coffee seemed to be just as perfect as the rest.

Her lips were soft to the touch and tasted like mint. The tips of her hair tickled his cheeks as another gust came and she leaned in closer to him. They pulled away and he got lost in her eyes momentarily as they held a spark that seemed new and inviting.

A small tinge of red was on her cheeks as she shifted her eyes towards the ground. “But for the record, we are going to fuck right?” She said.

A laugh escaped his lips. “Oh without a doubt.” He winked at her and flashed a smirk that she thought was charming.

She smiled before they grabbed their coffee and walked towards her apartment building. There was a comfortable silence between them and he was thankful for it. His eyes kept glancing towards her, trying not to get caught but he was taken away by her.

In all the years he had known her, she was seen as an ultimate force for battle. A hunger for justice was always present on her face during battle and a stronger punch would follow. He had seen it all. Her desire to save and fight for others. The media knew her for being dark and sassy, which was true but they also never thought she would be as soft and sweet as her sisters.

Moments like these where there was no one else around and the only sound was the leaves shaking in the wind is what he enjoyed. He got to see her in a light that she hid in the shadows.

Slowly he reached his hand towards hers, a slight hesitation on his part but he interlocked their fingers together and for some reason, it felt like the most natural thing he’s ever done.

She glanced at him, squeezing softly to let him know that it was okay to do.

“I just want you to know that I’m really into you, sappy and cute shit too. You’re always gonna be the toughest person in the world but I’m also gonna like seeing the sugar side of you.”

“Thanks Butch. I’m always gonna like seeing the puppy dog tail of you.” She teased and a fake scoff came from him.

“Wow.” He said dramatically. “That was a low blow and here I was trying to be nice but I see you’re still the same ass wipe as before.” They stared at each other before breaking out into a fit of laughter.

Her giggles came down and she nodded towards her room. “Let’s go watch a movie.” She tugged his hand.

He followed her up the apartment stairs to her room, he could barely contain the smile on his face. The doubt and hesitation was long gone as he kissed her some more that night. If there was one thing he loved more than laying next to her or having her snuggled up into his arms while a movie played, it was the fact that nothing between them had changed.

She was still his best friend who liked to place bets and challenge him to a round of video games. The same girl who could take anyone on for soccer or basketball and even the same girl who stood at city hall with a grin as blood dripped from her nose without a care in the world. She was everything from before and everything he had always wanted.

---

Five years later

“Can I ask you a question?” Butch said.

Buttercup looked up from the book she was reading. “Whats up?”

“Well in my class we were talking about belongings and our prized possessions. I said mine was my wedding ring because it reminds me of you.” He smiled as he glanced at the gold band. “So what would yours be?”

BC sat up and looked at her own ring. “I mean I would say my ring too but to be honest it's something you gave me a long time ago.”

He furrowed his eyebrows as she leaned over to her night stand and opened the drawer. She took out a small velvet box that her wedding ring came in.

“Thought you already said your ring.”

She rolled her eyes and no matter how much she did it, he would never get tired of it. “It's what's inside dumb ass.” The box was tossed on her bed and he took it and flipped the latch open.

“Holy shit.” He gasped as he saw the small piece of paper with the faded green inked heart. “I didn’t know you kept this.”

Buttercup shrugged before kissing his cheek. “I don’t know, it means a lot even if it's something simple. Made me realize that I wanted to be with you forever.”

The box was closed and set to the side before he went and kissed her. “I love you.” He said against her lips and she giggled before responding with “I love you too.”

--

I hope you enjoyed this and thank you again for trusting me to deliver the green goods. 

Also BIG thank you to my wonderful betas  @creativecilla @avesthetea @lisathefan

*My commissions are open*

[rubberfuckey]

me & you together song - jj maybank

an: hi!!! here we go again with another jj fic :) as always feedback is appreciated :) this is inspired by the 1975′s “me & you together song”, specifically the bridge; it might not fully go along with the meaning of the actual song since the song is about unrequited love but i put a little fluffy spin on it :) we love a happy ending 

here’s a youtube link to the song if you want to check it out 

words: 2.3k

warnings: just some swearing, sorry mom

I've been in love with her for ages

And I can't seem to get it right

jj woke you up from your sleep on the pullout couch at the chateau with a chipper “morning sunshine!” as he practically jumped on top of you.

“jj what the hell.” you mumbled as you wiped the drool from the corner of your mouth. you tried to push your messy hair out of your face as jj finally laid down next to you, laying his head on your chest and looking up to you. you knew you were currently at your worst, you drank way more than you intended to at the party last night and don’t even remember getting back to john b’s. your head was spinning as you tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes, adjusting to the bright sunlight. 

“what time is it? and how are you so energetic?” you said softly, keeping your eyes closed because your headache was overbearing. 

“y/n it’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon,” he laughed as he reached up to wipe some of the mascara from under your eye that must’ve smeared during your sleep. you were still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and at that moment he was glad your eyes were closed so you couldn’t see the look of admiration on his face.

“did you bring that tourist chick back with you last night?” you asked, trying to hide the jealousy in your voice and dreading his response.

“nah, someone had to take care of your drunk ass.” he replied. you, jj, and john b had all been best friends since third grade so you were very familiar with jj’s antics. you knew you loved jj, you were in love with him and had been for as long as you knew what being in love meant. some days you thought, or maybe hoped, that he returned the feeling but every time you got a little closer or touched a little longer, jj ran for the hills and right into the arms of some one night stand. he hated that he did it, but at this point it was like second nature. he was attempting to fill the y/n sized hole in his heart with someone else, it never worked but he’d be damned if he stopped stubbornly trying. it was a vicious cycle at this point, jj finds some girl to go home with and you spend the night trying to get drunk enough to forget about it. it never worked. 

“sorry you had to be my caretaker.” you huffed, and jj just shook his head. 

“anything for you, y/n.” he whispered back quietly, you almost didn’t hear him.

I fell in love with her in stages

little 8 year old jj was a hell raiser. 8 year old y/n? the complete opposite. you were soft spoken and incredibly kind for someone so young. when you first met jj, you were at recess sitting under a tree with some of your other classmates. you watched as the boys ran around, not caring how dirty and sweaty they got under the hot august sun. when one of the other girls started laughing at jj for tripping over his own two feet, you jumped up and ran over to him to see if he was okay. he shrugged you off, embarrassed at the fact that he fell on his ass in front of your entire class. he tried to get up from where he laid on the pavement, but you shoved him back down when you saw the scrape on his knee, and patted the blood up with the napkin from your lunchbox until your teacher came over to take him to the nurse. every kid in the class laughed, except you. you were different. little jj definitely had a crush.

-

after john b joined your friendship, you were like just one of the boys. jj’s crush was swept under the rug as you spent every waking moment with the both of them. it wasn’t until puberty started to hit that his crush resurfaced. he can still remember the moment where he looked at you and didn’t see you as y/n/n who’s just ‘one of the guys’. instead you were y/n, an incredibly hot girl jumping around with him on the dock dancing to the radio in just a bikini. from that day he started looking at you differently, but yet again it was swept under the rug as him just being a horny teenager. 

-

when things started to get hard for jj with his dad, you were always there, tending to the wounds both physically and mentally. you cleaned up the cuts and took care of the bruises like you had done when he scraped his knee in third grade. you also didn’t let him shrug off the situation as easily as he could with john b or the other pogues. this wasn’t just ‘something that he’s dealt with before’ or ‘nothing he couldn’t handle’ to you and you held him when he broke down to you about it. you were always strong for him, no matter how bad it hurt to see him in that state. until one particular night where jj had shown up on your doorstep. he looked worse than he ever had and you almost considered calling an ambulance to make sure he was okay. you couldn’t take it, you broke down in sobs at the sight of him. you cleaned him up with tears running down your cheeks and you both held onto each other as if you’d disappear if you let go until you fell asleep together. he woke up the next morning to you holding onto him as tight as you could without hurting him in your sleep. your eyes were puffy and tears were staining your cheeks but you looked so beautiful in the morning light. that’s when jj knew he was in love with you.

My whole life there's been no way for me to say That I've felt a certain way for ages

everyone knew jj was in love with you. everyone knew you were in love with jj. but nobody knew why you two weren’t actually together. whenever anyone ever asked you, you played dumb. “jj? he’s just my best friend! has been forever!” you shot down the conversation before it had even started. jj was good at hiding it too. “come on dude, no pogue on pogue macking!”

he wanted you to know how he felt, but anytime he thought about just ripping the bandaid off the voice in his head stopped him. y/n is like an actual fucking angel. she’d never go for a screw up like you. she deserves more than you could ever give her. 

-

since that morning on the couch two weeks ago, things had been as normal as they can be for you and jj. you woke up at the chateau planning on going out with them to grab a keg from the party later that day. you knew they were both still sleeping so you got up to make whatever food you could find for breakfast for the three of you. settling on some eggs, you cracked them and put them into the frying pan. it was completely silent as you stood over the stove watching them cook until jj snook up behind you. he grabbed you by your waist and picked you up. you yelped and went to smack at his arms that grabbed you but he just laughed and rested his head in between your neck and shoulder.

“j, i think you just gave me a heart attack.”

“what are you making? is there enough for me?” he asked looking up from your shoulder.

“well there was going to be plenty until you scared the shit out of me, now i’m super starving. i think i might eat all these eggs myself.” he laughed, lifting you up onto the counter with ease. he took over cooking the eggs while you sat there in a comfortable silence. he threw some of them on a plate for you and grabbed you a fork. as you sat on the counter eating the eggs, he leaned on the counter standing next to you with his own plate. you both finished eating, joking back and forth about whatever dumb stuff came to mind. he moved in between your legs to grab your plate but stood there for a second. you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. 

“i love you. you’re my best friend.” you whispered. you don’t know what came over you or where you got the balls to say something like that but you didn’t regret it. she means as a friend, obviously. you think you’d ever actually have a chance?

“i love you too, y/n.” he whispered back, pulling away from the hug to drop the plate into the sink and go get dressed for the day. you sat on the counter holding back tears at the thought of him not meaning it the way you so desperately wanted him to.

-

with the keg secured on the beach at the boneyard, you waited for others to show up with kie. she could tell something was up so she pulled you away from the boys to talk to you.

“ok what’s up?” she asked bluntly.

“what are you talking about kie? i’m fine,” you gave her what you thought to be a convincing smile.

“did something happen with jj?”

you sighed and shook your head, “why don’t you believe me when i say there’s nothing going on with me and jj? just drop it, nothing would ever happen between us.” she looked stunned at your outburst as you looked anywhere but towards her. 

“i’m sorry,” you whispered “i didn’t mean to be so rude about it.” 

“it’s okay” she said back, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. you sat in silence trying to collect your thoughts before you decided to just let it out.

“i told him i love him. and nothing happened. he thought i meant in a best friend way. he’ll never see me as anything more.” 

“y/n, come on, it’s jj. i knew that boy was in love with you from the first time i met you.” you just stayed silent, looking out at the ocean.

-

“pope, will you shut the fuck up about it?”

“no, fuck you jj, i’m tired of this. you love her, she loves you. be a man and go get her.” jj was almost shocked at the outburst from pope as he watched you and kie talk from across the beach. 

“how are you so sure about that?” jj asked.

“you’d have to be blind, deaf and stupid to not see it.” john b chimed in.

jj chugged the rest of the beer in his cup and went for another one.

Oh I think our story needs more pages 'Cause I've been in love with her for ages And ages, and ages

you decided after a few drinks that you had had enough. you were tipsy, but not drunk enough to not know what you were doing. jj was sober, giving up on trying to get drunk enough to find interest in the girl standing next to him. he couldn’t stop thinking about this morning. was pope right? did he have a chance? walking away from where you sat on a log with kiara, you grabbed his hand without saying a word and dragged him away from where everyone was.

“thought i’d try to save you, you looked like you were about five seconds away from dying of boredom.” you giggled. 

he just nodded, letting out a bitter laugh. the silence between you was awkward as you let go of his hand. 

“or maybe you weren’t? i’m sorry if i interrupted.” you questioned.

“y/n what the fuck are we doing?” he asked lowly.

“what do you mean?”

“come on, you know exactly what i mean,” when you didn’t respond he continued, “this morning? what did you mean? and don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about.”

you hesitated, “i meant what i said. i love you.”

“yeah, but in like a best friend way, right?” he was avoiding looking at you at all.

“i don’t know, jj. did you want it to mean more? because i know what i said, but it seemed to be different when you said it back.”

“fuck this,” he mumbled under his breath, “y/n i’m so fucking in love with you, and i get it if you don’t feel the same way. i’ve spent years just trying to ignore the feelings because i know it’s selfish for me to want you when i know there’s something who could be bett-”

before he even finished that sentence you pulled him by his neck down to you and kissed him softly. before you could pull away to gauge his reaction, he grabbed your hips and pulled you back into him, instantly deepening the kiss. this was better than either one of you could’ve ever dreamt of it being. he pulled you towards him with his hands on the middle of your back as yours went up into his hair. he turned his head to deepen the kiss and you felt his tongue on your bottom lip before you pulled away, keeping your foreheads together. 

“wow,” you panted, “jj-”

“i know.” he replied before you could even get your sentence out.

you smiled harder than you probably ever had before and he mirrored you. 

“be my girlfriend.” he looked down, waiting for your response. you felt like you couldn’t form any coherent thought so you just nodded your head rapidly. he laughed at your reaction before lifting you up by your waist and spinning you around, kissing you again. 

“let’s go home, j” you whispered, he grabbed your hand pulling you into the direction of the chateau not bothering to say bye to your friends. 

[hazzasgayvodka]

mister long term booty call chapter two “If I bust my ass, I’m gonna bust yours”

August 21st, 2011

Despite asking your new friend Jacob in your class for directions, you can’t seem to find your way around anywhere. You look down the row of classrooms and once again don’t see the room number you’re looking for. You huff in frustration before turning back the way you came and trying the other hallway, maybe you’ve just got it backwards, again. It’s hard enough starting middle school and being sorted into nearly all eighth-grade classes but doing so alone after moving to a new city was something else entirely.

You’re just about to duck into the nearest classroom and ask for some directions when suddenly two boys come barreling down the hallway. You try to dodge them against the wall but end up smacking straight into one of them, dropping all of your books to the ground in front of you and scraping your knees against the pavement. You look up to meet the face of the boy who nearly trampled you, expecting him to help you up and maybe even gather your books like in the movies.

“Dude, watch it.” He laughs, standing up and brushing himself off before taking back off after his friend down the hall.

You roll your eyes as you stack your books back up and pull yourself to your feet, wincing a little as you stand on your ankle. The teacher from the room in front of you steps out for a minute to ask if you’re okay and you have to withdraw from making a snide remark about how you’re doing just fucking peachy, instead electing to ask for directions so you can just get to your class already.  

After walking back down the rest of the hall and taking the first right as instructed, your eyes finally land on the room you’ve been looking for. You take a deep breath as you twist the handle of room D-145, preparing yourself to stalk to the back and pray no one notices you.

“Oh, tardy on the first day, are we?” Ms. Barger asks as soon as you step in the room.

“I um, couldn’t find the room, I’m new.” You say quietly, wishing you could crawl into a hole.

“Ah, you must be the sixth grader,” She nods, “Why don’t you go take a seat behind Harry.”

You look in the direction of her pointing finger and see none other than the unruly haired boy that knocked you to the ground in the hallway earlier. He’s giving you a giant lopsided grin now, pointing at the seat behind him. You inwardly groan, dragging your feet over to the empty desk and dropping your books at your feet. You slide into your seat and he immediately turns around as Ms. Barger goes on to take role.

“Hey, what’s your name?” He asks, fully leaning on your desk.

You don’t answer him, trying to wrap your head around why the hell he’s interested in talking to you now when he couldn’t even help you up off the pavement earlier.

“Alright nameless girl,” He sighs, visibly annoyed, “Do you play Pokémon?”

“Styles?” Ms. Barger asks, cutting him off with a certain tone to her voice.

“Yes, Winona?” He grins, clearly pleased with himself and you have to bite your lip to conceal your laugh.

“What have I said about calling me by my first name?” Ms. Barger scolds, “Do you really want to start off this school year with detention?”

“Personally, I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate the coming of a new year of bullshit in this ward.” He smirks, kicking his feet up on his desk in front of him to which Ms. Barger rolls her eyes and turns to the board to start teaching.

“So, as I was saying,” He grins, turning back around and taking out a deck of cards, “You play Pokémon?”

 Present Day

 “Harry, Harry! I’m falling!”

“You’re not falling, Jesus Christ,” He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you in place, “Besides you’re on a skateboard a few inches off the ground, not plummeting to your death.”

“Why did I allow you to put me on this death trap again?” You groan, wobbling slightly as he pulls you along by your hips.

“Because it’s a trade, we do something I want to do and then we do something you want to do.” He explains, helping you off the board.

As soon as your feet touch solid ground again you puff out a breath of relief. He laughs as he easily flips the board upside down and flips it back over with his feet, landing right on top of it and skating back around you in circle.

“Show off.” You scoff, trying to shove him off but he grabs your hands and pulls you on instead.

“What were you saying?” He smirks, hopping off the board and leaving you standing on it once again, holding onto his hand for dear life.

“Wait, Harry-“

“You got this,” He laughs, squeezing your hand and walking beside you, “Just try pushing off with your right foot.”

You give him a glare and he grins, reaching up to take his hat off and brush his hair out of his face before putting it back on backwards. He’s totally in his element here in his ridiculously skinny jeans and giant oversized t-shirt. You look back up to meet his face and he’s got his eyebrows raised waiting for you to push off by yourself.

“If I bust my ass, I’m gonna bust yours.” You say definitively, pointing your finger into his chest.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” He laughs, “Now come on, just try.”

You bite your lip as you transfer all your weight to your left foot and lean over, pushing off on your right foot. He nearly trips to catch up with you as you push off and skate a good distance.

“See!” He grins, grabbing both your hands to stop you, “You did just fine.”

“Okay, okay,” You breathe, trying to catch your breath after holding it the whole time you were skating, “Let’s do it again.”

“Yeah?” He asks eagerly, positioning himself on your left side again, “Whenever you’re ready.”

You do it again, grabbing his right hand in a death grip as you push off and skate even further with him jogging beside you to keep up. You do it a couple more times, getting even more adventurous each time and skating even further across the pavement.

“Okay, now this time, when you get to the end of the pavement, don’t stop, try to turn.” He instructs.

“Try to turn?” You scoff, “How?”

“Here, hop off,” He says, getting on the board himself and pushing off with ease, skating to the end of the pavement, and then leaning on his back foot and jutting the board to the left before pushing off again and skating back over to you, “Did you see it?”

“Kinda?” You say but it comes out sounding more like a question.

“Come on, you got this.” He nods, getting back off the board and rolling it over to you.

You roll your eyes as you grab his hand again and carefully step back on the board. He’s holding your hand nice and tight as you lean over and push off once again, skating towards the end of the pavement.

“See you’ve got it down,” He chuckles, “Now just lean back on your right foot and turn.”

You try to do what you watched him do but the board beneath you is rocking side to side under your wobbly legs and suddenly you’re stumbling right off it and into his arms. He’s laughing his ass off as you nearly trip over your own feet and the board but grabs you in his arms, stabilizing you anyways. You finally allow yourself to laugh with him when you look up and see the giant grin on his face as you lean back in his arms.

“Wanna take a break?” He laughs, letting you go and snapping his board back up into his hand.

“Yeah, besides, it’s my turn.” You smirk, grabbing his hand and tugging him behind you.

In a matter of an hour before you’re both back at your apartment after he showed off a bit more around the skate park hitting the rails. You have no idea how he’s able to grind the board down the slope of the rail without hitting the pavement face first but he’s certainly good at it and likes to remind you of that.

“Y/N, it’s burning, is it supposed to be burning?” He winces, attempting to crane his neck to see his face in the mirror.

“Stop moving,” You giggle, grabbing him by the jaw and turning his face back to yours as he wiggles around on the lid of the toilet seat, “I’m almost done, and the burning means it’s working.”

“What is it supposed to be doing? Melting off my top layer of skin?” He groans as you scoop out more of the purple shimmery face mask and paint it on his chin.

“Yes, exactly.” You nod and the horrified look on his face makes you laugh so hard you bury your face in his chest before standing back up to admire your work.

His hair is pushed back off his forehead with a zebra print headband that perfectly matches the santa cruz t-shirt on his shoulders and his entire face is painted a bright shimmery purple to match my own. He finally stands up off the toilet lid when you tell him you’re finished, and he nearly jumps when he catches a glimpse of his face in the mirror.

“Holy shit I look like a fucking alien,” He chuckles, leaning closer to the mirror, “How long till I can wash this shit off?”

“You don’t wash it off,” You explain, swatting his hands away from his face, “You peel it off in like twenty minutes.”

“Peel it?” He scoffs, turning around to face you, “I can’t peel it off! It’s gonna rip out my stubble!”

“What stubble,” You laugh, shoving him out of the way to walk back to the kitchen, “You have the facial hair of a prepubescent twelve-year-old.”

“Do not,” He huffs, following you to the pantry and grabbing the bag of chips right over your head, “I could totally grow a beard if I wanted to.”

“Oh, sure.” You mock sarcastically, following him over to the couch and immediately shoving your feet in his lap.

“I could!” He huffs through a mouthful of chips, “This shit isn’t going to like dye my face purple is it; I’ve got to get to work in like an hour.”

“You work tonight?” You groan, leaning back against the couch and folding your arms over your chest.

“Five to ten,” He shrugs, cautiously wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to not smear purple everywhere, “Why? You wanna do something?”

“No, just thought we were hanging out tonight since you’re here.” You say nonchalantly, masking your disappointment.

He opens his mouth to speak just as his phone starts ringing in his pocket and he sits up quickly, digging it out of his jeans. He rolls his eyes when they land on the caller ID but he answers it anyways and presses his phone to his ear.

“What’s up?” He asks, sounding less than enthused, “Yeah, yeah I can, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He ends the call and you perk up a bit, waiting for him to fill you in but suddenly he’s shoving your feet off of him and jogging over to the door to slide on his Vans.

“Who was that?” You ask.

“Work,” He groans, “Austin never came in so now I have to go in early to cover him.”

“Oh no, whatever shall Zumiez do with one less salesperson on the floor.” You sigh dramatically to which he gives you a pointed look.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I happen to be the top salesperson on that floor.” He smirks, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’m sure you’re their pride and joy, H,” You laugh, pointing to the purple face mask smeared all over his face, “But aren’t you forgetting something.”

“Oh shit! Yeah, get it off.” He says, leaning down so his face is level with yours.

You lift up the mask around his mouth and he winces all the while as you drag it off his skin little by little. You can’t help but laugh as he sucks in a breath when you rip the last bit off his tiny bit of mustache.

“Jesus Y/N, just do it like a Band-Aid this shit hurts.” He whines and you roll your eyes as you do as he requested and peel the rest off in one swift motion.

He scrunches his face up as you do so, gasping as you rip the last bit off his nose and toss the discarded mask in the trash. He opens his eyes once again and runs a hand over his face feeling his skin.

“Am I purple?”  He laughs.

“You’re absolutely glowing.” You tease as he leans down and grabs his skateboard.

“Awesome, I’m never doing that shit again,” He jokes, “I gotta go, I’ll text you.”

You’re surprised when he opens the door and just before walking through it turns back around and lands a quick peck to your lips. You hardly have any time to react before he’s pulling away, dropping his board onto the sidewalk, and skating off.

You close the door almost hesitantly, waiting for him to look back over his shoulder or something but you know he’s not going to. What the hell was that? A kiss goodbye? Whatever it was for some reason it managed to make your knees weak.

You pull yourself away from leaning your back against the door and into the confines of your bedroom, plopping yourself right down at your desk. It’s about an hour later that you’re still mind-numbingly reading through your calculus book and imagining where that goodbye kiss could have headed if he didn’t have to go to work when your phone buzzes beside you and you’re surprised to see his name pop up on your screen.

H: wyd

Y/N: calc reading

H: rough

Y/N: tell me about it

H: finals coming up yeah?

Y/N: next week, super stressed

H: you know there’s a pretty easy way to destress

H: only requires like two fingers

Y/N: omg shut up

H: just stating some facts

Y/N: didn’t ask for your “facts”

H: fine but don’t say I didn’t try to help

H: brb gotta work

You set your phone back down and sigh, inadvertently clenching your thighs together as your mind goes to the last place you want it to. If he wants to make jokes about you getting off maybe he should have offered to help while he was here. You huff in frustration as you get up out of your chair and retreat to your bathroom instead, turning the water on as cold as you think you can take it and stepping in behind the curtain. You try to clear your head as you stand under the freezing water and suds yourself up with vanilla scented body wash. You rinse yourself off one more time before escaping the cold and wrapping up in a warm towel before walking back into your bedroom to hear your phone buzzing on your desk.

H: I’m back

H: wow love it when you don’t text back

H: it turns me on

H: ignore me harder

Y/N: well if you insist

H: kidding

H: come back

Y/N: that’s what I thought

H: where did you go

Y/N: shower

H: ah someone took my advice

Y/N: no dipshit, someone took a shower

H: oh good

H: I was worried you only lasted fifteen minutes

Y/N: oh shut up

H: you shut up

Y/N: make me loser

H: I definitely can

H: but you might moan a little

Y/N: HARRY

H: see, told you

Y/N: the only moaning you’re getting out of me is in sheer annoyance dumbass

H: there we go

H: who needs flirting and affection when you can just have blind hatred

Y/N: you’re such an idiot

H: mmmmm say it again

Y/N: oh shut up

H: are we really going down that road again

Y/N: I don’t know

Y/N: I quite liked where we were headed before

H: you did?

Y/N: are you really going to make me spell it out for you?

H: fucking hell

H: I’m at work woman

Y/N: and now that’s an issue?

Y/N: you were talking pretty big game there Styles

H: okay fine

H: you have exactly three minutes to be naked on your bed while I get to the storage closet

H: and don’t you dare start without me

Your heart is absolutely hammering in your chest when your eyes read over the words as they pop up on your screen. Are you really doing this? While he’s at work? What the hell are you thinking? You know you should stop this right here before things get carried away but something else has already come over you and before you can think straight, you’re stripped of all your clothing, lying back against your headboard. The cold air oscillating from your ceiling fan has you covered in goosebumps nearly instantly, every hair on your body standing up and your jittering hands reaching for your phone to see if he’s texted back just as it starts to ring in your hand.

“Shit, shit, shit,” You swear under your breath, staring at your ceiling as your phone rings in your hand and you try to force yourself to answer it, “Fuck it.”

You answer the call and immediately want to slap yourself for doing so, trying to regulate your breathing as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“You naked, sweetheart?” He breathes through the phone, instantly making your thighs clench together.

“Maybe.” You say, your voice barely a whisper.

“Oh, come on,” He laughs, “Don’t start with that shy shit now, Y/N.”

“Who said I’m being shy?” You smirk, trying to be just as equally witty as he always is, “Perhaps I’m teasing.”

“And we all know just how good you are at that.” He chuckles, trying to break through the awkward tension between the two of you.

What is it about talking dirty to each other over the phone rather than in person that makes it so much harder?

“Surely I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You sigh sarcastically, adjusting the pillows underneath you to get comfortable.

“This innocent act isn’t gonna last sweetheart.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” You giggle, “What makes you so sure?”

“Well we could start with the soaking spot I’m sure you have in your underwear,” He says and you picture the proud smirk on his face when you let your eyes flutter closed, “And end with the fact that you’re on your bed naked for me right now if you’d like.”

“Now come on Styles,” You muse, sounding a lot braver than you feel, “I think we both know I’m the one running the show here, I’ve got you in a supply closet after all.”

“That you do babygirl,” He laughs, and you just know he’s shaking his head at you, “Now sit up against your headboard and spread your legs for me.”

“Way ahead of you.” You smirk, balancing the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you let your fingers lightly circle your opening, making your thighs clench.

“Fuck, of course you are,” He breathes, and you hear the clink of his belt buckle as he undoes it, “Do you have music playing?”

“Mhm,” You hum, “Brockhampton.”

“Jesus,” He pants, “I wanna fuck you to so many songs.”

“Oh yeah?” You hum once again, trying to not let your moans sound too pornstar as you slip your fingers past your entrance, “Like what?”

“I’ll tell you later, promise,” He grunts, “But right now I need you to move your hips as sinfully as you can and imagine it’s my face you’re riding instead of your fingers.”

“Ahead of you again,” You grin, trying to keep your panting in check as your fingers speed up, “You have really got to learn to catch up, H.”

“Fuck off.” He chuckles.

“Tell me what you want to do to me.” You breathe, shocking yourself as the words fall past your lips.

“Christ,” He hisses, and you can picture him biting his lip purple, “I want to tie you down and make you beg, fuck you till you can’t walk straight,” He pants, moans spilling out of his mouth in between every word, “Fuck, please tell me you’re touching yourself cause god knows I am.”

“Way past touching, Harry.” You laugh, your left hand reaching to your chest to tweak your nipples.

“What are you thinking about right now?” He asks.

“You.”

“What about me?” He inquires further.

“Riding you,” You gasp, nearly choking on the end of the word as you hit that perfect spot, “Pushing you down against my bed and climbing on top of you, sliding onto you, marking up your neck with my mouth.”

“Holy fuck,” He groans in the back of his throat, “I want to bend you over my bed and smack your ass so hard you can’t sit for two days.”

“But you’ll handcuff me first of course,” You tease, trying to get a rise out of him, “Right, Harry?”

“Fuck, I’ll chain you to the bed if you want.” He chuckles.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You bait him, whimpering as your left hand moves from your nipples back to your clit.

“Sweetheart, it can be whatever the hell you want it to be.”

Your stomach does a series of backflips when the words come out of his mouth in that deep gravelly tone and you find yourself beaming ear to ear as your head relaxes against the pillow behind you.

“You still stressed about calculus?” He teases.

“Funny,” You pant, “Can’t say calculus is necessarily in the forefront of my mind at the current moment, no.”

“Then I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job, huh?”

“Do you think you could get over here and put your mouth to better use than patting yourself on the back?” You suggest, biting your lip as you await his response.

“Don’t tease a weak man, Y/N,” He groans, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, “I don’t get off for another three hours.”

“It’ll be a lot sooner than that if I have anything to do with it.” You grin, an idea coming to fruition in your head.

“What? Y/N?”

You don’t answer any of his questions or respond to your name. Instead, you hang up hastily and climb off your bed, shimmying your underwear back up your legs followed by a pair of jeans and his plain yellow hoodie hanging in your closet.

You slip your phone in your back pocket as you shove your feet into a pair of sneakers and grab your keys, rushing out your bedroom door and nearly coming face to face with your roommate Matt. He has an all assuming smirk on his face as he takes a sip of the can of mountain dew in his hand, eyeing your haphazard outfit and messy hair.

“Heading out?” He laughs.

“Something like that,” You say quickly, heading for the front door, “How long have you uh, been home exactly?”

“Not long,” He shrugs, taking a seat on the couch as you open the door, “Of course it was long enough to hear you screaming, Oh Harry! Harry!”

You turn around with a start, shooting daggers at him as he moans obnoxiously loud, mocking the sounds you were undoubtedly making only minutes ago.

“Fuck off!” You shout, your face burning as you close the door behind you and collapse in the front seat of your car.

You start your car, swearing under your breath as you back out of your parking spot, your hands shaking nervously as you reluctantly make good on your promise, he’ll surely be getting off in a lot sooner than three hours.

 HARRY

 The call drops and he’s swearing under his breath as he fumbles with his phone trying to call you back, but it just rings over and over, angering him further. What kind of game are you trying to play? Getting him this worked up at work and then vanishing right when he’s at the edge.

He takes out his earbuds and tosses his phone back in his pocket with a huff of frustration, rubbing the back of his hand over his now sweaty forehead and lifting his damp hair out of his eyes. He grabs himself in his other hand once again, pumping his hand over his throbbing cock but without your breathy moans surrounding him through his headphones he just ends up frustrating himself even further.

“Fucking hell.” He pants under his breath, finally giving up and leaning against the storage room wall behind him.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to imagine your picture perfect chest right in front of him, your eyes rolled back in your head as you bounce on him, biting your lip to stifle your moans before he grabs your jaw and reminds you to be loud for him. The images running through his head are tantalizing for sure, but they’re nothing compared to the whimpers and mewls and filthy words you were spewing straight into his ears only a few minutes ago.

“Fuck it.” He huffs, standing back up straight and stuffing himself in his boxers.

When he buttons his jeans and does up his zipper, he’s thankful for the baggy t-shirt he decided to wear today. He adjusts himself another three times trying to get comfortable with his rock-hard cock straining against the confines of his clothes but once again he gives up and decides to just try and get through the rest of his shift already.

He unlocks the storage room door and emerges quietly, hoping he doesn’t raise any red flags with his other associate considering he was in there at least twenty minutes.

“Oh, there you are man,” Cody laughs, straightening the shirts on the front table, “Thought you might have went to get some food or something.”

“Nope,” He chuckles nervously, “Just uh, straightening all the shoes back there, it was a mess.” He explains, mentally slapping himself when he realizes he’s actually going to have to do that later now.

Cody goes on to complain about some other aspect of the store that’s equally messy but Harry doesn’t hear a word he says as his gaze lands on none other than Y/N, walking hurriedly down the aisle of stores and making a b-line for him as soon as they lock eyes.

“Hey um,” Harry speaks up, cutting Cody off, “Did you want to get out of here early tonight? I can close up myself, we’ve had like three people all night.”

“Serious dude?” Cody grins, “That would be awesome.”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” He shrugs, sending you a very pointed look warning you to stay outside, “Grab your stuff and clock out.”

“Thanks, Harry.” He smiles, patting him on the back as he passes him to the back room.

Harry beckons you over quickly, shushing you when you start to speak and nearly dragging you over to the door to the small storage closet.

“Stay in here and don’t make a fucking sound,” He says, his voice pure gravel, “You better be ready for me when I get back.”

Your legs clench on their own accord at the needy tone of his voice before he opens the door and shoves you inside, closing it once again. His head is a clouded, fuzzy mess as he drags his feet back over to the computer at the register and manually clocks Cody out so he can fucking get out of here already.

“Alright, I’m out of here man-“

“Already clocked you out, you’re all good dude.” Harry grins nearly painfully, leaning back against the counter.

“Oh, awesome, thanks,” Cody nods, hiking his skateboard up under his arm and walking towards the front of the store, “See you later.”

Harry lets out the biggest sigh of relief when Cody finally turns the corner and he runs to the entrance of the store, jumping up to grab the gate and pull it down to the floor, kicking the lock closed and nearly running back to the storage room where you’re waiting for him.

He throws the door open roughly and instantly grabs your face in his hands, smashing his lips onto yours as you reach out to grab the door handle and yank it closed. Your hands immediately reach for his belt buckle under his t-shirt, followed by the button and the zipper on his pants. You start to sink down to your knees, but he grabs your arms and stands you back up, lifting his hoodie up off you and biting back a moan as your full chest he was trying to picture earlier is now right in front of him.

“Wanna fuck you,” He grinds out, undoing your jeans as well, “Not gonna last if you try to blow me.”

You try not to laugh at how needy he is, already teetering on the edge. He sucks in a breath as you untuck him from his boxers, just barely pumping your hand over him while his cup your chest, making you whimper.

“You’re not gonna last either, huh?” He smirks proudly, giving your right nipple a pinch and making your knees wobble.

“Well I’m assuming we should be rather quick about this,” You breathe, stepping out of your jeans, “Can’t hide in here all night.”

“Fucking wish we could,” He pants, pressing his thumb against your center, “Lot more fun than folding t-shirts.”

You’re nearly doubling over in pleasure as he rubs his thumb against your clit over your soaking panties. He’s got that cocky smirk on his face as he eases them out of your slit and eases a finger inside you, making you gasp. He circles your clit, spreading your arousal before delving back inside you and making you lean against the wall behind you.

“Harry,” You breathe, “I could have fingered myself at home.”

You let your eyes flutter back open to catch the look on his face as he gives you a teasing glare, withdrawing his fingers from you once again and pushing them past his lips instead, hollowing his cheeks and sucking them clean.

“As you wish, princess.” He mocks, grabbing you in his arms roughly and pressing you against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist.

You don’t even have time to worry about if you’re too heavy for him to be holding you up like this before he’s sliding into you and filling you to the hilt. You both gasp at the sudden contact, his head instantly falling to your shoulder, his lips messily sponging kisses down your jaw.

“Fuck how are you always,” He pants, pulling out and rutting into you again, “So tight.”

You can’t even comprehend the words coming out of his mouth as your hands thread through his hair, your head leaning back against the wall behind you as your back arches further with every thrust. He’s already so close, desperately thrusting into you at a punishing pace that has you moaning carelessly, nearly screaming his name despite the two of you being locked in a thin-walled closet.

“Please tell me you’re close.” He begs, his nails threatening to dig into the underside of your thighs as he grips you even tighter.

“So close, H,” You pant, grabbing desperately at his back and hardly noticing as you rake your nails across his skin, “Fuck, so close.”

“Cum with me then,” He groans, his moans purely guttural, “Come on Y/N, cum with me babygirl.”

His words are just enough to push you over the edge, squeezing your walls around him as your head rolls back against the wall behind you. Your eyes threaten to flutter closed as your orgasm washes over you, but you force yourself to watch him, relishing in the way his swollen pink lips part perfectly, his eyes screwing shut, and a colorful string of swears falling past his trembling lips. You feel him release inside you, making you clench around him again earning you a gravelly moan from the back of his throat.

He carefully sets you back on the ground, pulling out of you and the empty aching feeling between your thighs returns. He lifts up his t-shirt to wipe his forehead and you want to slap yourself when you feel your thighs still clenching together when you get a quick look at his hardened stomach, his jutting hips and very visible v-line making your mouth water. He pulls his shirt back down, snapping you out of your daze as he pulls his jeans back up and you stumble over yourself as you realize you should be doing the same.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of tonight?” He asks, running a hand through his thoroughly fucked out hair.

“Um,” You think aloud, “Not sure, might have a date with my couch and the ice cream in my freezer.”

“You want to organize some shoes instead?” He laughs, gesturing to the wall of shoe boxes beside you, “After I’ll take you out for all the ice cream you can eat.”

[gamerwoo]

Chan: Welcome Home

Characters: Chan x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fwb au, kinda fluffy but mostly smut (dom/sub themes, kinda dirty talk???, oral, choking)

Word count: 3,512

Summary: Since he hasn’t seen you in the last 3 months while you were studying abroad, Chan decides to go through with your movie-filled afternoon despite the fact he’s just started mating season.

a/n: here’s the thing. I got a request for Chan or Seungcheol during mating season and my dumb ass forgot I had mating season headcanons going on (which I haven’t done in y e a r s so like no wonder I forgot) so I wrote this entire oneshot before I realized I fucked up but I already wrote almost 3.5k words and I refuse to let it go to waste so for now, y’all get this because I am a hoe for Lee Chan thank u goodnight (it’s also like 3:30am when I’m posting this so no it hasn’t been looked over and yes there are probably spelling errors and it’s probably rushed and b a d but cut me some slack)

He gulped as you shifted to sit crisscross on the couch beside him. It was bad enough before, but now your shorts were riding up even more than before and it was sure to drive him completely insane. His growing claws were already digging into his thighs through his joggers -- he’d specifically put on black ones that were a little thicker to hide the fact he was completely 100% hard -- and now he was sure he was going to break skin or something. He’d never even thought of you in a sexual way, but now he couldn’t stop it because of his rut that had started that day.

Chan hadn’t seen you, his best friend, in 3 months. You were studying abroad in some country, leaving him alone without his partner in crime. He’d be damned before he cancelled on you the first day he was going to see you, mating season or not. 

Clearly, that was a bad idea.

You were completely aware that Chan was a werewolf, and you knew what came with that. What you didn’t know, however, was that he was currently experiencing mating season that very afternoon. You’d barely looked at him, too engrossed in the movie to notice anything about him -- even his shifting was lost on you.

Despite the fact he needed the thick clothing to hide his hard on from you, Chan was dying in his joggers. His body heat was already spiked because of mating season, and it wasn’t helping that he had to make sure his lower half was completely covered. He was surprised he wasn’t sweating through his thin t-shirt.

“Hey, _____,” Chan spoke up, his voice sounding a little raspy so he cleared his throat before continuing, “do you mind turning the temperature down?”

“It’s your apartment,” you snorted, turning your head toward him to roll your eyes, “you do-- Hey, are you okay, dude?”

Chan’s skin was flushed and shiny with a sheen of sweat, and if you studied him closely enough, you could see he was shaking in short quick moves that looked like he was practically vibrating. You’d never seen Chan look or act like this before.

“Y-yeah...why?” he asked, but just looking in his reddening eyes, you could tell that was a lie.

“Chan, you look like you’re dying,” you told him, reaching a hand up to touch the back of it to his forehead.

Chan quickly leaned away, eyes going wide, “Dont--!”

You narrowed your eyes, pulling your hand back, “Alright, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Chan.”

“I...I-I can’t tell you.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Why not?”

“It’s weird,” he groaned, but the noise only sounded half distressed -- you weren’t sure what the other half was, but it wasn’t anything you’d ever heard come from your best friend.

Your eyes glanced back at the TV to see that you’d apparently missed something big, and now one of the main characters was crying. You groaned, sitting up on your knees to reach across Chan for the remote to pause the movie.

“_____--!” Chan’s protest was cut off by a loud whimper as he felt your arm graze the erection in his pants.

Suddenly his arousal was increased by 1000, and it hurt even more than before. There was no way he was going to be able to sit here beside you and even seem remotely okay now.

You immediately sat back, staring wide-eyed at Chan as his head fell back against his couch, his eyes screwed shut as he reached for one of the throw pillows and covered his lap with it -- though you couldn’t help but notice he was slightly grinding up into it.

And then the answer hit you, and you felt like an idiot for not getting it sooner.

“Is this that mating season/heat thing?” you asked quietly.

Chan whined, “It’s not heat, it’s rut, first of all. I’m a man, _____.”

“Okay, sorry I’m not a werewolf expert,” you sighed.

There was a silence that fell between the two of you, and you could tell that Chan was getting more and more uncomfortable by the second. The poor guy couldn’t even sit still.

You studied him for a moment before asking, “It’s this bad?”

He nodded move aggressively, his hips rutting up into the pillow, “It hurts...” he panted, unable to open his eyes -- if he did, he’d probably tackle you then and there. “M-maybe it’s better you leave. I d-don’t wanna do anything to you...”

Chan definitely wasn’t ugly. He was far from it, actually. Chan was probably one of the most flawless-looking human beings -- well, sort of human-being -- you’d ever seen. And he was your best friend whom you trusted with your life. You weren’t close with anybody else like you were with Chan, so honestly, the idea of helping Chan out wasn’t...awful. Actually, it kind of made you aroused, too.

And Chan smelled that change, groaning louder before it faded to a whimper, “You smell so s-sweet. _____, if you don’t leave, y-you’ll get hurt...”

Chan’s eyes suddenly snapped open as he felt the pillow getting pulled away from him. He sat up, locking eyes with you as you gripped the fabric of the pillow in one hand, pulling it up from his lap.

“_____, don’t,” he warned.

But the look in Chan’s red eyes was anything but menacing, so you kept going. He didn’t fight back when you took the pillow away, and his eyes never left yours as your hand slowly moved to cover his clothed erection. There was a whimper deep in his chest as you slowly started palming him, his hips bucking up into your hand.

His hand gripped your wrist, and you thought he was going to tell you to stop, but instead, he begged for the opposite.

“Please don’t stop,” he whined, looking and sounding so small and vulnerable.

“I won’t,” you promised. “I’m gonna help you feel better.”

Your hand slid into the waistband of Chan’s joggers and his boxers, wrapping around his length. His eyes fluttered closed as he shivered at your touch, unable to comprehend how amazing just slowly stroking him felt. His senses were way too heightened, so even just your skin on his felt like his skin was on fire.

Your fingers swiped over his tip, smearing precum down his length while you pumped him slowly, taking in every twitch of his face. It seemed like anything you did made him moan and dig his nails -- well, now claws -- into the couch, ripping them open. But despite the fact he was ruining his furniture, Chan didn’t seem to care. He was too focused on the pleasure you were giving him, keeping his eyes screwed shut to take it all in.

His eyes suddenly snapped open feeling something warm and wet around him, eliciting a growl from his chest. His head snapped up and he looked down, only to see you bent over with your lips wrapped around his cock, unaware that he was even watching you.

Chan let out a shaky breath of your name, both hands moving to run through your hair and hold it out of your face. It was taking everything in him to not snap his hips up and fuck your face, but he couldn’t stop the little twitches of his hips as you took him further, further, further into your mouth. It wasn’t until your nose brushed against his skin after taking all of him in that his hips relaxed and he let out a low groan.

“Fuck, _____...” he breathed as you stayed there, trying to relax your gag reflex.

When you felt comfortable enough, you swallowed.

That was it for Chan.

Your hair was suddenly being gripped harder as Chan began to thrust up into your mouth at an insane speed. Soft growls and snarls came from his chest, a few containing your name or a few profanities. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t control himself, but you also didn’t seem to care, either. You just kept your hands pressed to his clothed thighs, letting him use you however he wanted as saliva dribbled from your mouth.

Your cheeks hollowed, causing Chan’s hands to fly to wherever he could dig his claws into -- the couch was once again his victim.

“God, fuck,” he groaned, letting you bop your head at your own quick pace. He looked down at you, watching your movements with shallow breaths. “_____, I’m-- ah, fuck!”

Chan twitched and suddenly released in your mouth, apparently even taking him by surprise. He was just so overly-sensitive from mating season that it didn’t take much to get him to cum that quickly. But he wasn’t embarrassed by it, and he also wasn’t done, either. Even once you’d swallowed everything that had spurted down your throat and took your mouth off of him, his erection still stood hard and red like nothing had ever happened.

The entire time you were sucking him off, Chan could smell your arousal easily, and it was driving him absolutely insane. But since he’d already let go and let his instincts take over, he didn’t hold back from pulling you into his lap and kissing you intensely. It took you by surprise, but you didn’t push away or go stiff. You kissed him back, arms winding around his neck as he positioned your legs to straddle him.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asked between kisses before his mouth was moving across your jaw, nipping and sucking at your skin to make soft red marks.

You just nodded, letting out a soft moan when he sucked on a particular spot.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the words that came from Chan next.

His eyes darkened in an instant, looking at you like you were his prey. His voice was a low growl as he said, “I’ve never wanted to fuck anybody more in my life.”

His words and the tone he said them in sent heat shooting straight down to your center as your cheeks burned up. Nobody had ever said anything like that to you, and nobody had ever looked at you like Chan was. It was all just...a lot. But, admittedly, you liked it.

“Then do it,” you told him.

The way you looked and sounded so small made Chan feel like he had even more power over you, and he loved it. That was all he needed was that little confirmation. One hand went around your waist, pressing into your back to push you into him. At the same time, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a heated kiss, his other hand going to the nape of your neck to hold you in place. Without breaking the kiss, he moved his hands under your thighs before he stood -- his werewolf strength still continued to amaze you. He effortlessly carried you to his bedroom, his lips moving down to nip and suck at your neck while your hands moved up to play with his hair.

“You don’t know how fucking amazing you smell,” he mumbled against your skin as he walked through the open door.

You wanted to press your legs together, embarrassed that Chan was able to smell your arousal, but with him between your legs as he carried you over to his bed, it wouldn’t have done much.

Chan chuckled as he felt your thighs clench anyway, “Don’t be so shy. We’re best friends, ______.”

“I forgot your stupid werewolf senses catch everything,” you grumbled, burying your face in his hair.

He all but tossed you down on his bed, his red eyes boring into yours. He straddled your thighs, his index fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts and underwear as he all but ripped them off of you, getting them down your legs faster than you or anybody ever had. His eyes turning dark as he shoved his own bottoms down, unable to take the heat taking over his body anymore. His t-shirt was then swiftly removed, leaving only you clothed now in just your bra and shirt.

Arousal burned in your lower abdomen as you watched Chan’s movements, his eyes never leaving yours, either. His skin was practically glowing from the afternoon sun that streamed in from the windows, making him look almost godlike. He rolled you over before pulling on your hips to get you to sit up on your knees, and then it hit you that you were actually about to have sex with your best friend. And yet, you didn’t want to stop.

You felt Chan lean over your back, his lips by your ear as he roughly whispered, “I bet you’re so wet right now, aren’t you?”

You whimpered as you felt the tip of his dick rub against your folds, Chan growling into your neck at the feeling.

“God, you are,” he moaned before he finally thrust into you slowly, making you gasp as you felt every inch of him stretch you out and fill you up. “Fuck, you’re so tight, too. You feel so good around me, ______.”

You would’ve thought it would be weird to have your best friend say these things to you, but it only turned you on even more. Besides, you knew mating season was going to make him say a lot of things he wouldn’t normally ever say to you. You also knew it was going to make him very possessive, and you expected that to come out a lot, too. You weren’t his mate, but right now, you belonged to him.

With Chan’s instincts taking over, he didn’t even pause to ask if you were okay -- but with how wet and aroused you were, you were completely fine. He gripped your hair with one hand, keeping the other on your hip as he began thrusting into you at a rough, fast pace that made you gasp before loudly moaning out his name.

“Does that feel good?” he panted, his hand releasing your hair and stroking down your back to grip your hip.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” you moaned, gripping his pillows as your eyes screwed shut.

“Bet nobody else has ever fucked you as good as me, huh?” he asked, his bangs falling in his face and sticking to his forehead.

You couldn’t help but giggle softly as how your playful best friend had turned into this possessive dom, but it quickly turned into a moan with the smile still on your face, “No, Chan.”

Chan’s head fell back feeling you laugh while he was inside you. He’d never felt that before, but it felt amazing. He suddenly grabbed your hair again and yanked, pulling you up until your back was flush with his front. You yelped, but you didn’t mind the pain.

You felt his hand move from your hair to your throat, gripping tight enough to make you a little lightheaded, but not so tight that you couldn’t breath. With nothing else to hold onto, you gripped his arm and wrist with both of your hands, your eyes closing as he continued to thrust into you with his other arm wrapped around your torso.

“I can’t believe you’re laughing right now,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses down to your shoulder.

“I’m just not used to you being so-- ah, Chan!” you whimpered at the end, feeling his length brush against that spot that had you clenching around him.

Chan smirked, the hand not squeezing your throat moving down to your clit, “Not laughing now, are you?”

“D-do that again,” you begged, your hands blindly reaching out to grip the headboard in front of you.

Chan angled his hips to hit the same spot, not letting up on the speed or intensity of his thrusts. With his fingers moving in quick circles on your clit, your eyes were rolling in the back of your head from the pleasure -- that of which was heightened from Chan’s grip on your neck.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you gasped, trying to get air into you but you just felt like you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs even though you could breathe perfectly fine. Everything just felt too hot and suffocating but it was in the best way possible. “Shit! Chan, fuck!”

“Are you gonna cum?” he rasped, his sharp fangs grazing your skin. “Are you gonna cum for me, _____?”

All you could manage was loud mewls and whimpers as you nodded as best as you could with his hand around your throat. 

Chan was close himself, and the strong instinct to bite you and mark you as his was starting to wash over him. That tiny part of him that wasn’t fogged over with lust was screaming at him not to -- marking was only meant for his true mate -- but it was just a natural need that came with sex. He wouldn’t do it, but he felt like he had to.

Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, having you crying out as you arched your back away from Chan. He continued to thrust into you and rub your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm as you clenched around his cock, sending him careening over the edge as well.

Chan pulled out just in time, pumping his length as he came on his hand, your ass, and a little bit on his bedding. He groaned out your name as he bit his lip, drawing a little bit of blood thanks to his fangs.

Chan didn’t stop moving his fingers against you until you were twitching and whining from the overstimulation. He carefully laid you down on your stomach as you tried to catch your breath, and he thanked Mother Nature or whoever it was that controlled mating season and his instincts that he was satisfied -- at least for now -- because you didn’t seem like you were in any condition for another round right now.

“One sec,” he sighed as he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and got off the bed.

You just laid there, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Did you really have sex with your best friend? More importantly, was it actually the best sex you’d had ever?

The answer to both questions was yes, and you couldn’t believe either of those things.

Chan came back with a towel and some new blankets. He cleaned you off before he helped you off of the bed, asking if you were sore or needed help putting your clothes on. When you reassured him you were fine, you put your underwear back on while Chan changed the messy blanket to a clean one.

“Listen, I don’t expect you to help me all week,” he told you as he grabbed his boxers and put those on -- he left it at that since he was still way too hot for anything else. “You should probably leave before...that starts up again.”

You shrugged, “Honestly...I didn’t mind it.”

Chan was surprised, freezing as he went to lay down in bed, “You didn’t?”

“Nah,” you told him as you laid back down, letting out a sigh. “It wasn’t as awkward as I figured sex with my best friend would be, and honestly, it really was the best sex I’d had.”

Chan gave an embarrassed laugh, laying down beside you, “Yeah, sorry about whatever I said during that. Instincts kinda take over and I get super territorial and shit. I feel like I have to be like, the alpha male, I guess.”

“Don’t worry about it. If it was weird, I would’ve left already.”

“Well, since you’re staying...would you mind if like, maybe until I find my mate if like...you would help me out whenever it hits...? It’s totally fine if you say no! But it’s only twice a year anyway, but I get that it might be a lot since it’s--”

You giggled, nodding as you turned your head to look at Chan, “Yeah, sure, dude.”

“Cool,” he smiled his classic bright smile with a nod. You couldn’t help but wonder how Chan didn’t look like a fucking mess after all that. His bangs were in his eyes but it worked for him, especially in the glow of the warm afternoon sun. “Thanks, _____.”

“Anything for you, Channie,” you told him, lightly hitting his chest with the back of your hand.

“Well,” he sighed as he got up from the bed, “since you’re staying, I should grab some water and snacks since we’ll be here a while.”

“Do I have time for a nap or something?” you asked, sitting up as he went toward the cracked bedroom door.

“Can’t promise how long,” he chuckled. As he opened the door wide enough for him to exit, he paused and turned to you. “Oh yeah, welcome home, _____.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Thanks, dude.”

[itsmyusualphannie]

something wrong in the village

Chapter 4/5: numbers Beta: @candanandphilnot Rating: T Warnings: Read on ao3

Summary: Fiona Lester has a secret. Dan Howell thinks they hate each other. Dan meets an online friend and comes to realize something important about himself while juggling a changing relationship with his parents, friends, and Fiona.

~~~ previous chapter ~~~ next chapter ~~~

The first thing Dan did upon waking up the next morning, after slapping the alarm on his phone, was to crawl out of bed and blearily stagger his way to his desk. He felt a bit like death warmed over. He’d stayed up late last night - or early in the morning, depending on how he looked at it - even though he knew it was a bad idea. That one message to Phil had sparked an entire conversation, though. The deepest one they had had so far. Dan felt like his most repressed emotions had been scooped out of him and laid bare before an empathetic almost-stranger sort-of-best-friend.

Upon sprawling sleepily in his desk chair, Dan typed in his computer password and brought up the chat on the cheesy ‘FRIENDS’ website. He could see the last few messages exchanged between him and Phil, but scrolled up further to glance over some of the others. 2 a.m. sleep-drunk messages were terrifying to look back on, but these didn’t seem so horrible.

it’s not like a solid thing, read one of Phil’s messages, and below it, Dan’s reply.

yeah but i’ve only ever felt like that toward guys and like one or two girls. idk. is there even a label for that? 

You don’t have to have a label unless it feels right. i mean I say i’m gay because i want to but you don’t have to

idk, Dan had simply replied, and even now, in the sun-glare of early morning, he still didn’t know. He scrolled back to the bottom of the chat, to the most recent messages.

i’m so tired i should probably sleep lol, Dan had typed.

Yeah it’s a school night! rip to us. There had been a long wait between that and his next message, where Dan had just stared at the laptop screen and been unable to think of anything original to say, but then Phil had added going to sleep now i guess lol. gn!

night, Dan had somehow managed to type without any spelling mistakes induced by his tired fingers, and then he had staggered to bed.

There was a new message waiting from Phil, time-stamped only a few minutes earlier. He’d probably just gotten up for school too.

hey i just thought it’d be cool to text if you want? so we can message when we’re not just home :) you don’t have to if you don’t want! but if you do, my number is 01184 80222.

Dan rubbed his eyes, trying to smear out the sleep, before reading it again. cool, he replied. He read it one more time. “Oh,” he said out loud.

He reacted instinctively, crossing the room to find his phone again and unlocking it. It took him less than a minute to save the number under a new contact that he called “phil the fellow nerd.” He looked between his phone and the open webpage on his computer, and then he closed out the browser on his laptop. It would be easier this way, now.

He tapped on the message icon by Phil’s new contact and hesitated before slowly typing out a message. hey it’s me, internet stalker dan :)

With that, Dan shoved his phone deep into his pocket, tugged on his shoes, and headed out. He made it halfway outside before he realized he was still wearing his pyjamas. Today was going to be just...great.

~~~

“Hey, dude! What’s up!” To emphasize the greeting, Sam offered Dan a hearty punch.

“Ow,” said Dan mildly. He rubbed his shoulder and took another bite of his sandwich. “It’s...not up.”

Sam laughed and threw himself into the seat next to Dan, digging into his own lacklustre cafeteria meal. “Ready for that test today?”

Dan and Sam did not have any classes together. Dan also had no test today.

“Sure,” Dan agreed.

The clatter of the lunchroom was almost a dull roar today. It still felt heavy, oppressive noise pressing into Dan’s ears and against the mild headache that he was once again nursing. He probably should have grabbed a painkiller from his bathroom this morning, but he’d been a little rushed after his attempt at heading to school in his nightclothes. Now that would have been a nightmare.

Another guy seated himself across from Dan, briefly glancing up and giving Dan a cursory nod. Dan chewed a bite of his sandwich and returned the nod.

“So, had a cool ride here this morning,” said Sam around an open mouthful of something that looked like mashed potatoes or glue. It looked more like the latter. “My board’s got a loose wheel though, gotta get that fixed.”

Dan took a loud slurp from his water bottle. “Yep,” he said.

“Talked to Johnathan too,” continued Sam, undeterred by Dan’s clear disinterest. “He went out with that girl Sam or whatever her name was and they hooked up in the…”

Dan set down his sandwich, tuned out Sam, and pulled his phone from his pocket. A new message from “phil the fellow nerd” was waiting for him, and a subconscious smile pulled at his lips as he clicked on it. This was his first message from Phil.

hi, internet stalker dan. This is pretty convenient, totally not messaging in class right now

Dan huffed a laugh and wiped his fingers on his trousers to remove any extra sandwich crumbs before replying. don’t message in class you nutter, you’ll get caught and then who will i talk to?

my teacher :D  replied Phil instantly. i’m sure you’ll get along great.

ew.

“Ooh,” said Sam. He leaned toward Dan, eyes bright as he tried to sneak a glimpse of Dan’s phone. Nonplussed, Dan tilted the phone away from him, waiting for a response. “Who’re you texting, Danny boy? Finally got a bird to talk to you?”

“Yeah, it’s your mum,” Dan retorted. The boy across from him slapped the table and laughed.

Sam snorted. “Sure, mate, have your secrets.” He chomped into another bite of the glue-like substance that coated his spoon.

dw class is almost over anyway, about to head to my next class, popped up a new message from Phil, and as if on cue, the bell on the wall of the lunchroom shrilled loudly with its obnoxious warning to head to class.

Dan climbed to his feet, shrugging his backpack over his shoulder. He collected his trash with one hand, typing out a reply to Phil with the other. omw to class right now. english, gross.

Somehow, this felt easier than anything Dan had ever done before. Messaging Phil wasn’t something that he dreaded, unlike literally any time Sam the self-proclaimed surfer tried to strike up a “bro” conversation. Even that nod with the guy sitting across from him had wearied Dan. These brief messages from Phil seemed to somehow have the opposite effect. Reading them felt more like a breath of fresh air or a sip of cold, soothing water than the draining outcome of most conversations. Maybe it was that they were just words on a screen, but Dan didn’t think so. Dan thought he might feel the same if Phil was standing in front of him right now.

He dumped his trash in the bin by the doors and headed to class, fingers rapid on his screen as he walked. Sam went with him, but Dan ignored the stream of chatter that was directed toward him. He navigated around other students with ease, making his way to the door of his class within a few minutes of leaving the lunchroom.

i have english now too lol, read the last message from Phil. gtg now though, talk to you l8er

the fact that you actually just typed ‘l8er’ disgusts me, Dan informed Phil. No reply came, but Dan had a feeling that Phil had seen the message anyway. good luck in class, Dan added, then slipped his phone into his pocket.

“ - so I gave her my least favourite banana,” Sam was saying, and he laughed uproariously at his own uninteresting story he had just been relating to Dan.

Dan was about ninety-five percent sure that he had heard this story before. He hadn’t listened those times, either. He stepped out of the way of a passing student and gazed through the open door to his English classroom. A few people were still milling inside, so Dan resolved to wait until they left. He had no interest in starting a class before he actually had to join.

“Yeah, so guess I’ll see you later!” said Sam. He socked Dan in the shoulder again, which Dan did nothing but wince against. He had probably developed actual muscles from the daily punches.

“See you,” he said, more apathetically than he had even planned to be.

“Cool, I’ll - oh damn,” breathed Sam, and Dan’s attention was snagged. He hadn’t heard that tone since last month when Johnathan’s wealthy grandfather had bought him a cherry red sports car for his sixteenth birthday and Johnathan had driven it up in front of school to show it off to the groups of girls that hung outside after school. He had gotten a flat tyre the next day and hadn’t driven it to school since, but the appreciation from his friends had been enormously gratifying so he gave quite a few of them rides to and from his oversized house and the ice cream parlour down the road. Dan had not been one of those friends.

“Dude,” said Sam, still in that same voice. He punched Dan in the shoulder again, but it was half-hearted as he stared down the hallway. “Look.”

Dan was already following his gaze. He felt his own jaw fall slack as he took in the sight moving down the hallway toward him.

It was Fiona. She was different, though. She moved with rare ease through the sparse crowd in the hallway. Her shoulders were square, confidence evident in her posture as she strode toward Dan and their shared classroom. This clear self-assurance wasn’t the only change, though. There was an obvious change from only yesterday, where her disdainful stare had bored through Dan in the bathroom encounter. Her long, flowing dark locks were shorn. Instead of the usual cascading hair toppling past her shoulders, she had shaved the sides of her head and the top was styled only a few inches short, ruffled into a playful quiff.

Something burned hot in Dan’s chest. He swallowed harshly, unable to tear his gaze from the new hairstyle. It suited her almost unfairly, the short sides of the cut highlighting her sharp cheekbones and sloped jawline. Her eyebrows were still that pale brown hue, arched evenly over her cool blue eyes. Said eyebrows narrowed harshly as her gaze snagged on Dan. Her lip curled as she drew closer, but she didn’t speak a word to him.

“Hey,” said Sam, unaware or uncaring of the crystal contempt obvious in her expression. “Cool cut, my dude. You look hot!” He nudged Dan, elbow digging harshly into Dan’s ribs. Dan didn’t notice, still staring unblinkingly at Fiona. “Doesn’t she look hot?”

“Hot,” Dan repeated without really thinking about it. Fiona didn’t seem to hear him, as she cast Sam a slightly less contemptuous look. 

“Thanks,” she said.

Sam beamed. “Sure!” he said. “So you’re a lesbian now?” 

Sam was a fucking dumbass.

Fiona’s gaze slid back to Dan, scalding him with obvious scorn as if he was the one who had asked the question. “No,” she said, gaze boring into him, “I definitely like guys,” and with that, she swept past both of them and into the classroom, ignoring the other students still inside. Dan dreaded having to follow her inside.

“She’s totally gay,” Sam confidently informed Dan.

Dan punched Sam in the shoulder.

~~~

Dan was drawing a random person. He was definitely drawing someone random. The quick strokes of his pencil over the sketching pad were casual and brief, etching out nothing more than the portrait of a sharp-cheekboned, slope-jawed, dark-haired, narrow-eyed person - “Fuck,” said Dan aloud, his pencil pausing over the paper.

“I’m sorry?” asked his teacher.

Dan blinked and glanced up. Ah, yes. He was in English class. His teacher stared him down, the marker in her hand hovering above the board. “Um,” he said. “I just...remembered an assignment I need to work on.” He offered a tight-lipped smile, which was returned with obvious gritted teeth by his teacher. For as much as she cared about him talking in class, she never paid attention to what he was constantly drawing.

“Like I was saying,” she said, turning back to the board, “we’re going to be going over these lines of poetry and…”

Sighing, but quietly, Dan frowned down at his sketchbook. He flipped to a new piece of paper and lowered the pencil to it, but hesitated to start. He could hear a scoff from Fiona in the seat behind him, and yet no kick was offered to his seat. She hadn’t started anything since their suspension, but she’d at least slipped him some cutting insults when the teacher’s back was turned. Now, he got nothing but huffs.

Dan tried again, this time an ambiguous sketch of a teenager sprawled across a bench. He grew the outlines of long, lanky limbs, a very male torso and lower appendages, and slender calves and feet. Once he got to the face, his pencil moved without his permission, detailing the long nose, sharp eyes, and arched eyebrows of - Fiona.

Motherfucker.

Dan was tempted to rip out the page, but that would draw too much attention, so he just angrily folded over the page to a fresh paper and dropped his pencil on his desk.

Bzzz. His phone vibrated briefly with a notification, warm against his leg where he’d tucked it when he sat down. Dan tried to ignore it, but it buzzed again a moment later. And then again. At least it wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear, not even Fiona, who had keen ears and was right behind him.

Well. He couldn’t draw anything, if Fiona’s face was going to invade everything he worked on, so he might as well. He watched the teacher, but her back was still turned as he slipped careful fingers beneath his thigh to slip his phone out. He placed it atop his sketchbook and half-closed the book over it. It was extremely unsubtle, but at least his teacher wouldn’t immediately be able to tell what he was doing. He still kept an eye on her as he swiped at his phone, though.

Three messages from Phil were waiting for him.

Bored

booored

dan entertain me

Dan had to physically force himself not to laugh as he painstakingly typed out a reply. what, i’m in class. i can’t just leave to talk to you

Only a few seconds passed before a reply popped up. Lame. don’t you know that’s your sole purpose for existence, to talk to me?

This was terrifying, Dan decided, but it was fantastic. He and Phil had talked so much before and after school, whenever Dan could get his hands on his computer, but now they could actually talk in class. 

besides, I’m in class too, came in another message from Phil. living life on the edge, that’s me

if you get caught i’m going to laugh at you

I am the sneak master I would never get caught, Phil replied confidently.

“Excuse me!” barked their teacher from the front of the room. “Are you on your phone in class?”

Dan carefully did not react, letting his fingers slip away from his phone and slowly lifting his eyes to stare at her with a level gaze. He could still see the glare of the phone out of the corner of his eye, lighting up the pale pages of his sketchbook that were drooping over it.

But she wasn’t looking at him. She crossed the length of the room in a quick dozen strides, pausing next to Dan’s desk to stare behind him. “Miss Fiona,” she said sternly. “You know the rules.”

“Sorry,” said Fiona, in the most insincere tone Dan had ever heard in his life. The teacher apparently accepted it though, as she just nodded.

“Put it away. If I see it again, I’ll confiscate it until the rest of class.” With that, she turned and made her way back to the board.

Dan finally breathed. He couldn’t dare keep texting Phil now, since his teacher would be on high alert for the rest of class. He spared a quick glance at his phone, though, but didn’t see anything from Phil. Maybe the other boy had finally realized the danger of texting in class. Dan snuck the phone from his sketchbook to its original place beneath his thigh.

Although he waited for it, no other messages buzzed the phone against his leg for the rest of class.

~~~

Dan’s morning had been rushed, obviously, but there were four items he had not let himself forget. They were currently crammed into the bottom of his backpack. He’d left his English textbook - it hadn’t even been needed this class, anyway - at home so they could fit. They rattled together, quietly but still noticeable, as he slowly climbed to his feet.

He’d been sitting on this toilet for the past thirty minutes after his last class. Dozens of other students had come in and out of the bathroom since then, but the rush had slowed to a trickle and now it was finally empty as everyone left school for the day.

Dan’s ass was fully numb at this point, so he kicked his legs out in ways that probably would have looked hilarious if anyone had seen him as he ducked out of the stall and made his way across the room. He locked the door and reached high above one of the sinks to crack open the tiny window that led outside, and then he took a moment to take a breath and glance around the room. It still smelled heavily of piss and the five stalls, three sinks, and two urinals were still varying shades of ugly grey, matching the walls.

His phone chirped in his pocket. He’d taken it off vibrate once he left class, and had spent most of his time hiding in the stall earlier by texting Phil. Just the usual, mundane, hilarious, witty messages that left Dan feeling like a weight had been dragged from his chest. But that was beside the point.

Just got home, said Phil’s most recent text when Dan dug his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. time for homework :(

ha, good luck, Dan replied. He put the phone back and then shook out his arms, brushing his thumbs over his fingers anxiously. He was going to do this.

Hoisting his backpack into one of the sinks, he unzipped it and rifled briefly to the bottom before he found what he was looking for. It was a cold metal can, decorated with bright smears of colour and a solid grey lid. It rattled when he shook it. He placed it on the floor next to the wall that was violent with marker sketches, then dug a few more similar cans from his backpack. Each one had a differently coloured lid, one with pink, one blue, and the last one white.

Dan took a step back and glanced over the wall. The cans before it were full of potential, something fierce and proud inside of them ready to be released. The wall was ugly now, black scars of marker marrings its dull grey paint, the occasional splash of colour where someone had discovered a coloured marker in their bag. And there was that tiny trans flag, its bright colours muted by the slurs and graphic art scrawled around it.

If Dan was caught once he picked up one of those cans, he wouldn’t be suspended. He’d be expelled. The danger of it felt valuable. Adrenaline already sang through his veins, although he had yet to start.

Hauling in another deep breath, he let his chest expand and relax with the strength of it, and then he reached down and snagged the grey can of paint.

He began.

~~~ previous chapter ~~~ next chapter ~~~

[mylifeincinema]

My Week in Reviews: December 22, 2019

This was supposed to go live last night, but instead of having it scheduled, I had it in drafts. Oops.

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (J.J. Abrams, 2019)

*This Review May Contain Spoilers.*

Well, it's not very good... but I still kinda loved it.

Things to Love about The Rise of Skywalker:

-It actually wraps up the saga, characters that we've grown up with get endings, and the characters we were introduced to a few years back get closure to their beginnings.

-Babu Frik. He could've very easily been another Jar Jar, but thankfully his screen-time was limited and executed well.

-The action sequences. Pretty much anything with a lightsaber involved is fantastic, here. Especially the dual location duel between Rey and Kylo and their duel on the ruins of the Death Star.

-Poe. I've always liked Poe, and he's given some more backstory/personality here. So that's good.

-Kylo's arc. It's satisfying and suitable for the character both on the page and as Adam Driver brought him to life.

-Zorii Bliss. She felt shoehorned in to give Poe a potential backup love interest. And to steer people away from 'shipping' Finn and him. But she was interesting, and brought to life with a good sense of mystery and conviction by Kerri Russell, so unlike Finn's forced (new) love interest, she didn't distract and/or annoy.

-The production design. The world building in this new trilogy has been absolutely stunning, and thankfully it didn't slow down any with this finale. There's nothing quite as eye-popping as Crait. But there's still a lot of interesting and beautiful work all over this film.

-Babu Frik. Seriously, I want to hang out/go on adventures with that little dude. He's awesome.

-BB-8... that dude deserves his very own trilogy.

-The Harrison Ford cameo. His 'I Know." damn near killed me. Very well done moment.

-The benching of Rose. Nothing against the actress (she's fine), but the character and her subplot in The Last Jedi was so awful and awkward, that I was really happy to see her role in this film diminished.

-The Knights of Ren.

-Any/all Chewie moments. I love him.

-Porgs!!

-Did I mention Babu Frik?

Things Not to Love in The Rise of Skywalker:

-The screenplay. There's so much painful dialogue and convenient, underdeveloped plot points, here, it's torture.

-The pacing is all over the place. The beginning is edited like a sloppy 'previously on' segment, and later scenes that should've flown by feel sluggish.

-That fucking 'I guess he must have been on a different transport!' bullshit. Are you fucking kidding me? Did these useless assholes actually get paid for this shit.

-D-O... what an unnecessary/annoying little droid. They could've easily replaced him with a simple discovery from BB-8 or C-3PO. Easily.

-Palpatine. It all felt convenient and forced. The story shit actually mostly works, but McDiarmid's hammy performance drags down any of the scenes actually featuring him.

-That festival. Ugh.

-Jannah and the hinting that she, Finn and other ex-Stormtroopers may be Force-sensitive. Stop giving this shit away to anyone you think might inspire any fucking nobody watching... it's lazy and pandering.

-Kylo Ren's helmet. Ugh. It looks so damn corny and he only wears it for (what seems like) one or two brief scenes.

-That clearly shoehorned, painfully cheesy 'I am all Sith', 'I am all Jedi' bullshit. We get it, another Disney backed film had an amazing, wildly effective moment with a similar exchange... that doesn't mean every film you release from here on out need to rip it off.

-Same goes for the cheesy 'Resistance Assemble' type moment, except J.J. executed that one fairly well, so I definitely didn't hate it in the moment.

There's surely plenty of other things I could put into both of these categories, and surely a lot more I could put into the latter rather than the former. But it's a Star Wars movie. Only three or so have ever actually been good movies. If you go in knowing what to expect it's really easy to let go and have an amazing time. Despite all of the major flaws throughout this one, that's exactly what I did. - 6.5/10

Uncut Gems (Benny & Josh Safdie, 2019)

Wow...

Who knew a two-hour anxiety attack could be so fucking fun??

Adam Sandler is spectacular; probably the best he’s ever been. He takes this wildly unlikable loser and makes us start to cheer for him in a way that pulls us into the film similarly to the way the game pulls him deeper into his gambling addiction. Despite knowing he’s a loser, we begin to cheer for him to win, forgetting that losers don’t win… not really. The Safdie Bros. fill the film with never-ending tension, making even the few relaxed scenes pop with a sense of urgency and trepidation. Together they form a wild ride that scarcely loosens its grip on the viewer, building up an unbearable pressure that explodes in the most sudden and shocking manner. In the only manner it ever really could. - 9/10

Richard Jewell (Clint Eastwood, 2019)

Richard Jewell is a film about a simple man who wants to live a simple life by simple rules. When he's given his moment, he delivers, only to have it snatched away from him from an establishment that just doesn't like the who and what he is.

Richard Jewell was a hero. Plain and simple. He wasn't a smart man, but who cares? All he wanted was to do some good in this world. He did. And that's the truth.

Paul Walter Hauser is fantastic. He brings Jewell to life with an overeager sense of duty and an often too black and white view of right and wrong. He doesn't fully understand what is being done to him, and certainly doesn't understand why. It never totally clicks why the FBI is treating him like a bad guy, after all, he's law enforcement just like them. He's at once completely naive and downright better than them. He doesn't understand their game, but he does understand it's not fair. Hauser taps into all of this completely, and shows us everything that made Jewell the man he was, for better and worse. It's a damn shame Hauser won't see any of the awards attention for this, as it's one of the more impressive real-life performances we've seen in recent years.

Kathy Bates and Sam Rockwell deliver scene-stealing performances as Jewell's mother and lawyer/friend, respectively. They both care for him, albeit in different ways, and their dedication comes through loud and clear through these performances. Jon Hamm is solid, and frustrating, portraying a composite FBI agent who failed in the moment, and who will damn well do anything to succeed in closing his case regardless of the truth, just to prove he himself isn't a failure. Olivia Wilde gives AJC journalist Kathy Scruggs a far more redemptive and complete arc than the film's detractors would like you to believe, and certainly more than she actually deserves. But in the end, I don't really care about Scruggs. Wilde did fine work, but at the end of the day, she's just someone who wrote a smear-campaign about a good man. In 2019, she's a dime a dozen.

Sure, the screenplay is slanted. It cares only about painting Richard Jewell as the hero he was, and won't be bothered by treating Scruggs fairly or losing itself in the media circus. It does this to help give a full picture of the nightmare Jewell was going up against and never seems excessive or unfair.

Eastwood's work here is as tight as ever; there isn't a wasted shot to be found throughout the film. He's not a director whose style ever blows me away (save for Million Dollar Baby, maybe), but his work's consistency and efficiency is astounding, filling scenes with just the right amount of emotion (that press conference) and tension (that bombing sequence) without ever losing focus of the story at hand.

Here, Richard Jewell is that story. - 8/10

Enjoy!

-Timothy Patrick Boyer.

[leehanji]

The Right Partner

In light of recent events, I’ve decided to post a little preview of a new stucky fic I started working on literally the second I posted the last one! This is an unbeta’d wip so sorry for any errors!!! Also it’s probably going to be long and this is literally all I’ve written so far so it’ll be a long while before the whole thing is done, but I hope you enjoy anyway!!!

It’s an Assassins/Mr. and Mrs. Smith-esque AU where modern Steve and Bucky work for SHIELD and HYDRA respectively and don’t know the other is their rival agent... Check it out! (But also check the tags first!!! :D )

———

Steve brushed a finger down the spine of a blue hardcover surrounded by a dozen of its identical twins. He pulled it out and examined the cover.

La Combinazione Perfetta, it read. The Perfect Match.

Steve put it back. Romance wasn’t exactly his favorite genre. Not in English and definitely not in Italian. He glanced out the bookshop window at the café across the piazza. A middle aged woman sat in the afternoon sunlight with a small cappuccino in one hand and her phone in the other. Steve had never seen the allure of fancy coffee; probably because his enhanced metabolism negated any effects the caffeine would have on him.

He turned back to the bookshelf and perused a little more, occasionally pulling a book out and flipping a few pages before putting it back and glancing out the window again. The woman was still sipping at her coffee. Steve estimated she’d continue sipping for another 12-18 minutes before returning to the Embassy at the far end of the piazza. Why Martina Giudici had chosen to ignore the death threats sent her way, Steve didn’t know, but apparently, she was essential in finalizing SHIELD’s authorization to eradicate HYDRA in Italy and Fury insisted on her making it to the meeting that afternoon alive. Giudici was a politician so perhaps she thought the threats were good publicity and that being seen out in public with no bodyguards would make her seem tough. Maybe she was secretly trained in advanced martial arts and could totally take whatever assassins HYDRA threw at her. Maybe she was just an idiot. Either way, Steve and his team were forced to keep a distance, protecting her in secret from the HYDRA agents aiming to slit her throat as the meeting ticked closer.

“Report,” Steve whispered, keeping an eye on the woman at the register and the hearing aids he could see under whips of long white hair.

“East corner, clear,” Gabe said.

“North corner, clear,” Dernier reported.

“South corner, clear,” Jim whispered.

“West corner,” Dugan grunted and Steve heard the sound of someone getting kicked in the stomach, “clear.”

Steve checked his watch, wiping a small smear of blood off it with his thumb. The HYDRA gunmen on the roof had gone down a little messily.

“Keep an eye out,” he muttered, glancing out the window again, “Jobs almost over.”

“Copy.”

Giudici was still sipping her coffee. Eleven minutes to finish. Two minutes to pay. One to gather her things. Four to walk across the square. Two to get through security and then it would be over. It would be a piece of cake from here on out anyway. He and the Commando’s taken out nearly three dozen guys in the past twenty minutes, proving that their perimeter was impenetrable, as always. Steve knew HYDRA’s tactics well and he wasn’t worried.

He switched the com in his ear to radio, monitoring the chatter around Giudici as she casually returned her cup to its saucer. Steve pulled out another book when the bell above the door to the little shop rang out and a man stepped in.

A quick once over revealed to Steve that he appeared to be a civilian. He was wearing jeans, a red henley, and a light olive jacket. American, Steve assumed due to the soft, poorly articulated “Ciao" he greeted the owner with, but not a tourist, judging by the lack of backpack, sweat, and sunscreen. Bright blue eyes met his and a small smile twitched on the mans lips. Steve had never known himself to be into guys with long hair but he quickly found himself making an exception. The man was attractive, that was undeniable. He had a square jaw, wavy brown hair that hung half above his shoulders and half pulled up into a little ponytail, and kind eyes that crinkled in the corners. Steve found himself watching as the man approached the small English section of the store along the far wall. He was built, his broad shoulders accentuated by a narrow waist and defined pecs.

Steve blinked and glanced out the window again. Guidici was typing something on her phone. Ten minutes.

“Mi scusi.” The man approached Steve with a small paperback in one hand and a shy smile on his lips.

“Hey,” Steve replied smiling back.

The relief on the man’s face was instantaneous.

“Oh, hey, thank god,” he sighed, laughing at himself a little, “my Italian is okay but boy does make my anxiety go through the roof.”

“I hear you,” Steve agreed easily, glancing over the man’s shoulder at the café. Guidici lay her phone down and picked up her half empty cup again, “what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you happened to know a good place to get a cup of joe around here,” the man said with a wry smile, “American style.”

Steve suddenly wished he knew more about coffee. He immediately tried to remember whatever it was Gabe and Jim had been complaining about that morning.

“You mean something that doesn’t taste like a shot of bitter non-alcoholic ass?”

The man threw his head back and laughed. Steve watched his smile light up his whole face, making his blue eyes sparkle in the early afternoon sunlight. God, he was a vision.

“Yeah, exactly,” the man laughed, “I need sugar man, with a shot of vanilla and whipped cream on the top.”

“I think I saw a Caffe Nero a few blocks over,” Steve suggested, trying not to get too carried away, “It’s technically a British company but they might have something you’d like.”

Steve glanced out the window again. Guidici was still there. Eight minutes.

“Oh, perfect,” the man grinned, his eyes flicking down Steve’s chest and across his shoulders before finding their way back up to his face.

Steve felt his face start to flush involuntarily. He blamed his penchant to blush at the slightest hit of flirting on the fact that up until he was 23 he was a 90 pound asthmatic with scoliosis who came up to around 5’4 on a good day and even now any reference to his appearance made him unfathomably shy. It was his biggest weak point, one that his teammates teased him about relentlessly.

“I’m Bucky, by the way,” the man—Bucky— said, holding out his hand.

“Steve.”

Bucky’s hand was warm and firm. Solid and gentle.

“Well, Steve,” Steve’s name rolled through Bucky’s mouth like he was savoring the taste, “I should get going.”

Steve nodded with a small smile, stepping out of the way so Bucky could head to the register.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Bucky added as he handed a handful of bills to the lady working the counter, who seemed to be resolutely apathetic toward the pair of them. He was buying an old second hand copy of  Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein. It might last him trip down to Naples, Steve thought, maybe Florence if he took his time.

“Yeah,” Steve found himself agreeing as Bucky tucked the book under his arm.

It was harmless to flirt, Steve told himself, after all, he’d be on a plane home in less than an hour. The odds of him seeing Bucky again were slim to none.

“I’ll buy you a Frappuccino,” Steve grinned, “heavy on the whipped cream.”

The man laughed again, low and resonant. It made Steve’s skin tingle.

“Throw in a chocolate croissant and you’ve got yourself a date.”

Steve felt his blush return as Bucky tossed him a wink before pulling the door open and stepping back out into the sunny piazza. Steve watched him cross the square and disappear down a small side street before reluctantly turning his attention back to the task at hand.

Guidici was pulling coins out of her wallet. Steve flipped his com back to the Commando’s channel.

“Update?”

“Since you asked three minutes ago?” Falsworth replied, “I’ve got nothing.”

“I saw a dog steal a bread roll from the bakery in the east corner,” Dernier said.

“I saw Cap blushing at some long haired dude in the bookshop,” Jim contributed gleefully.

“Oh! Was he hot?” Dernier demanded.

“He looked pretty ripped from here,” Jim replied, clearly holding back his laughter, “What do you say, Cap? An 8? A 9, tops?”

“I didn’t know you were into long hair, Cap,” Dugan chimed in with a low chuckle, “Always figured you were more of a clean cut kinda guy.”

“Well, who doesn’t love a rebel?” Gabe added, “an Italian rebel, no less.”

“Can we focus, please?” Steve muttered, glaring out the window toward the rooftop he knew Jim was perched on and rolling his eyes, “6 minutes.”

Guidici stood and stepped out into the piazza. Steve left the bookshop empty handed and kept to the opposite side of the square, pretending to examine the pastries in the bakery window and the ornate stone sculpture of various gods pouring water into the wide fountain in the piazza’s center as he discreetly watched Guidici cross the cobblestones until she reached the steps of the embassy.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped under the archway, officially relieving the Commando’s from duty—

Guidici hit the ground with one foot over the threshold. By the time Gabe was at her side half of her body’s blood content was dripping down the steps of the embassy from the severed artery in her neck.

“Package down, mission failed,” Gabe reported grimly.

Steve was already hunting for the shooter amidst the chaos of the panicked crowd. There had been no audible gunshot, the angle must have been high, a sniper most likely. He examined the buildings but the only viable vantage point he could find was currently occupied by a stunned looking Jim.

Clean, precise, efficient, and deadly. Too good for HYDRA’s usual MO.

Whoever the shooter was, they were something else entirely.

~TBC~

[droughtofapathy]

Great Comet Experience Part Two

I had to split this up because it’s stupidly long. We’re talking like 10k words. You’ll never find a more indepth description anywhere.

Letters:

·       Act two commences with another air siren. I love this song. And got so into it when listing to the recording.

·       Everyone enters the same door which is the only time this happens. Most of them are in their regular costumes. Hélène is back in her black based with green underskirts dress, Mary has on her shapeless frock again. But Marya (while having on the same blouse as usual, and similar patterned skirt has something different. The skirt is one of those that’s really more of a wrap and it’s completely open in the front. She’s got on these tight leather pants (same Marya shoes as always), and wow.

·       Okay so, the company takes their places sitting on the stairs, and facing the audience directly. So I made direct eye contact with Alex Gibson during one show for like a full thirty seconds. And at one point I like raised my eyebrow and he mimicked me and we both just spend a good time smirking at each other. I played it cool, but during another showing when I had eye contact with Grace McLean and she looked at me seductively I’m pretty sure I was close to swooning. Gods, I’m so gay.

·       I never got a letter though and I’m so sad. Because during one point, everyone in the company gives the audience letters, and apparently one of the ensemble members (Heath if I’m not mistaken) always writes a different, innuendo laden letter.

·       Pierre is so set on killing Napoleon. Dude chill.

·       Dolokhov looks so smug when he says he composed the love letter.

·       Also while the company is singing the whole “A love letter” they’re all seated and bopping along so well. Marya takes on a lot of Hélène’s manerisms I’ve noticed. She’s so seductive, and drapes herself across the stairs much like Hélène does. Also her (really long and very leather clad) legs are everywhere.

·       So when Natasha passes her letter off to Hélène to give to Anatole they both look so excited.

·       And the whole audience participation when the letter is passed down the line til the last person gets on stage to give it to Natasha is so cute. Hélène enthusiastically directs it down, and Natasha looks to excited to receive it. During one show, a man didn’t want to get onstage, so the girl in the next row, leapt up and practically flew up stage.

·       So, Mary’s letter to Natasha is so full of affection and love. Mary is so in love with Natasha, and in the books they’re like attached at the hip and kiss and hug each other and go out together. It’s so much better than the tense dislike from before.

·       Side note: while I love the Natasha/Mary pairing, I’m a huge fan of Sonya/Mary because not only is it a nod to Ghost Quartet (where Brittain Ashford and Gelsey Bell play lovers at one point and it’s so adorably dark) but also both these characters need love and affection and this is way better than what actually happens where Sonya is left alone forever.

·       So during the whole “say yes” bit, Anatole gets down on his knee, and asks Natasha like three times, and keeps pulling her closer by her waist (which like, creepy dude), and she looks so confused and conflicted, but in the end gives in.

Sonya & Natasha: (Side note: they really love their ampersands)

·       So Natasha is asleep on the stairs and Sonya enters and snatches the letter. Reading in horror.

·       Lemme just say, Sonya is so much more sassy live than the recording leads you to believe.

·       During the entire song, Sonya is just following Natasha around rolling her eyes, and looking so exasperated by everything Natasha says.

·       Other than what the song suggests, there really aren’t any other actions that you can’t figure out from the words. But Sonya just runs off at the end when Natasha yells at her.

·       So, this is the point Sonya stops looking exasperated and looks just so heartbroken. This is her best friend, and she’s just screamed that she hates her. This is the part you start crying.

Sonya Alone:

·       So wow Brittain Ashford fuck me up. The real and raw emotions are just so mesmerizing. This is the point I wish I was at the final performance because I know this would be the most emotional of them all.

·       She starts off conflicted about what to do. Like, does she let her best friend follow her heart, or does she help?

·       And as the song goes on she gets more and more sure of what she wants to do. Yes, it is on her, and no she will not let Natasha go to ruin. This is her family, her best friend. And Sonya is completely and utterly devoted to her. She’d give up everything to make sure Natasha doesn’t go to ruin.

·       I’ve got a friend like Sonya, and it makes things so much more heartbreaking.

Preparations:

·       Mood whiplash in three, two, one.

·       Anatole enters Pierre’s office circle with a carpet bag and Pierre is dead drunk. I saw Josh Groben such a long time ago, that I just remember Dave’s performance better, but Dave does drunk word slurring so well.

·       He hands Anatole fifty rubles, but Anatole reaches over and snatches the rest of the wad of cash like an ass. Really. Then he goes to the mirror and starts to do his shaving routine.

·       So Dolokhov launches into his patter verse. And it is a bop. When he says Natasha and Sonya’s names they are lit up by spotlights. Hélène enters and hands him a cup of tea before going to Anatole. She also laces up her “Abduction vest” thing.

·       During this song, Dolokhov grabs hold of Anatole and pins him against the railing to try to talk some sense into him. Then follows him around groaning, and glaring. While Anatole is doing his part of the song, Nick Choksi is off-mic screaming “no no no” in such a done voice.

Balaga:

·       So, Balaga begins and everyone bursts onto stage. There are egg shakers and I’ve now got two and I’m so happy. Everyone is dancing, audience included and it’s such a wonderful moment.

·       There’s so much twirling. And everything.

·       Hélène starts out playing the drum on the top layer. She plays so deadpan (imitation of her total girlfriend Marya D. anyone???) and her eyebrows are quirked up in such a haughty way. Then when the beat kicks up, she hands the sticks off to Marya.

·       And Marya is having the time of her life up there. She swings the sticks down on the drum, and waves around, kicking her legs up. It’s great.

·       So Balaga is pretty much everywhere during this. He goes from the main stage to the mezzanine, to the main stage again. And I don’t even know how he gets there so fast.

·       When he does his “and I never ask for rubles” the company roars their love for him, and when they sing “and we like balaga too” they all practically lurch to him. Marya flings her arm at him and points with her drum stick.

·       The whole “woah” parts everyone just gets into position for the real fun. And my favorite part is coming up soon. Also Anatole is doing his twirly routine.

The Abduction:

·       Everyone, (and sometimes they encourage the audience to sing this part too) does the “goodbye my g*psy lovers” part and the word is actually a slur, so I’m conflicted. Dave Malloy wrote a really long explanation for why he did this, and it’s logical, but like slurs. So I sometimes like to replace G*psy with either tipsy or pretty. Sometimes I get so into it I forget though.

·       Okay so everyone raises their glasses (audience members included) and at one point Grace McLean shouts to her section that “I don’t care if your drinking or you’re not. Raise em up!” and it’s the growl again. I’m hooked. Actually though.

·       When Anatole sings goodbye to Matryosha it’s Katrina who passes by with her accordion. We all sway and shake our shakers. It’s the best.

·       Then the chaos begins. And you’ve got to see it to believe it. I notice something new every time. (Though I admit I miss most of it because I’m staring at Marya and Hélène, but can you blame a baby dyke?)

·       Everyone is screaming and dancing all over the place, there’s some organized dancing, like the circle line. Nick Choksi shoves his guitar at an audience member at one point and screams to hold it because “I gotta go dance” and they do the circle thing. I really love that because the joy of everyone is so visible.

·       Then the music gets deliberate, and Alex Gibson and another male ensemble member in the mezzanine have this dance off and they mirror each other and it’s awesome.

·       Then comes the real chaos. The music becomes jerky, and everyone just goes wild. Mary is up in the mezzanine flailing about looking so overjoyed. Sonya is backed into a corner by Pearl Rhein with her bow string as a weapon. Heath Saunders just rips his hair out of its bun and starts swinging it wildly. Pages of War and Peace rain down from the mezzanine. There’s a fist fight between Andrey and an ensemble member (Azudi Onyejekwe).

·       And of course, my favorite moment. The kiss between Marya D. and Hélène. While everyone else is running about chaotically, they just jump each other. It’s basically a contest to see who can smear their lipstick on the other’s face more. During it, Hélène hoists Marya’s leg around her hip (holy shit she’s got such long legs) and they just rut against each other. Hands are groping everywhere it’s the best And during the second to last show (the last one I saw) they were so into the kissing and grinding that they could find a balance, and they couldn’t get Marya’s leg up long enough.

·       Apparently this part of the chaos was entirely Grace and Amber’s idea and they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I formally thank them for their existence.

·       Then, the end of the chaos comes and everyone just collapses where they stand. Ashley Perez Flanagan is seated on an audience member’s lap, Mary is down for the count. Lauren Zakrin is splayed out on the floor. And Marya and Hélène just cling to each other with lipstick everywhere. Even the orchestra just collapses back into their chairs.

·       During this point, everyone’s panting and dying, and Dave Malloy has to gasp every time before he launches into his “here’s to happiness freedom and life” part. And at that point everyone launches back up with astounding energy. There’s even more dancing and skirt flinging, and really there’s no reason for Marya and Hélène to be so into each other if they’re not actually dating so Marya/Hélène is real fite me!

·       Then balaga is like “let’s get out of here” and they all dash up the steps towards the big doors. At this point, Gelsey, Brittain, and Marya slip out to costume change. And the whole wait sit down bit is so necessary. During the shut the doors part, Balaga is off-mic saying “doors what doors? Oh wow, those are big doors” and it’s so funny.

·       Sitting in banquette seating you can see every cast member. Everyone is panting heavily and look like they’re gonna pass out. Sweat is just everywhere. And it would be gross, but it’s just so impressive. Lucas Steele sits down next to an audience member and slings his arm around them.

·       Then they’re just about to get up and go when Dolokhov is all like wait a fucking minute here. And Balaga groans and is all like what now?

·       But the fur cloak routine is fantastic. So Pearl is wrapped up in it, and I only noticed in the last show I saw that the cloak also has like a gauzy salmon colored part of it in addition to just the fur. But during this part, Dolokhov steals her bow and she plays the fiddle with her fingers, while he plays her. There’s that fiddle symbol thing painted on her stomach, and its such a great detail. She delivers the cloak to Anatole who kisses her (c’mon man not the time!)

·       Then they finally head out. Everyone is so excited and ready. Anatole dashes up the stairs towards the big doors (I got hit by the flapping coat), the maidservant (Gelsey Bell you beast) does this amazing Operaesque line. And the doors open, there’s red colored smoke and everything.

·       But it’s not Natasha. It’s Marya D. and shit’s about to get real. She just glares at Anatole and the audience goes crazy. If looks could kill…

·       So sometimes she starts out with restrained anger during the “you will not enter…” and the growl comes out during “my house, scoundrel” but the last time I saw it she just scream/growls the entire thing and either way I am very turned on and very afraid at the same time.

·       Anatole sprints away with a look of terror on his face, and really that’s the only sensible thing he’s ever done.

In My House:

·       Okay so while the Prologue is my favorite song, this is the best one.

·       So Marya starts off restrained. Scoffing, and smirking with disbelief and rage. When she calls Natasha a hussy, Natasha looks shocked, and Sonya reaches for her from across stage.

·       Then she sings “now you listen to me when I speak to you,” twice the first time is calm, and then she fucking screams it and terrifies everyone.

·       During the line “do you hear what I’m saying or not” she holds out the last word so much longer live and the t ending is so sharp.

·       Sonya just sounds horrified and devastated. Like she wants nothing more than to hug Natasha and never let go.

·       Grace McLean deserves a fucking tony like jesus Christ.

·       Everything is very pantomime, but at one point when Marya calls Anatole a scoundrel and a rat she grabs Natasha’s chin and Natasha shoves her arm away. Marya stares at her arm in shock, before turning away scoffing like a mother when her kid does something really wrong. Like “oh you think you’re going to act like this, think again bitch”

·       But then Natasha screams that they all hate and despise her, and Marya looks so horrified and hurt. She knows she fucked up with how angry she was, and runs over to her. She has to rein in all this anger and shock because it’s definitely not what Natasha needs.

·       She screams “Natasha” with such desperation that my heart just snapped. She tells us what she does to comfort her goddaughter and looks just so horrified and heartbroken.

·       While Natasha sings what she does, Marya is sitting among the tables writing her letter to Pierre. She sends it off with a grandiose gesture.

A Call to Pierre:

·       The servant wakes Pierre from his drunken stupor and Dave Malloy really plays a great drunk.

·       He heads off to the Dimetrievna household, and Marya starts off restrained but quickly grows desperate. She pleaded with him and explains, with such urgency that I felt my anxiety welling up. And all that rage that she tempered down comes back with a vengeance.

·       Holy shit, so this role is usually a very low voice part, with a lot of that glorious growling. But this song has full on high belting and Grace McLean slays it every time. When she screams “Anatole Kuragin” you know that man is a dead man if Marya D. ever gets her hands on him.

·       And when Pierre reveals that Anatole is a married man (gasp! it’s mentioned earlier during the Duel but there’s so much going on that many people miss that moment), Marya is just blown away. During one performance she was like “I fucking knew something was up with this bastard” and during another she was shocked and horrified like “oh shit we are all so fucked”

·       And when she orders Pierre to find Anatole, wow. It’s basically the last thing Marya says, and Grace McLean never fails to go out with a bang.

Find Anatole:

·       The music turns urgent, and Pierre does more running around than he has ever done before. He goes to the club, and the ensemble are in the mezzanine and on the stairs just gossiping. When Pierre assures them nothing is wrong they all look so disappointed. These people love their gossip.

·       So Anatole enters the Bezukhov house stumbling in, and looking completely distraught. Hélène rushes to him, devastated.

·       Back at Marya’s house, Marya and Sonya break the news that Anatole is married, and the sheer pain, and anguish on Natasha’s face could make anyone sob. Her denial that he just can’t be married is the moment she realizes the true gravity of the situation.

·       Pierre returns home to find Anatole (and really he could have avoided all the running, if he just went home).

·       He yells at Hélène and tells her how repulsed he is by her. And holy shit. Okay so let’s dissect this for a minute. Before Hélène mostly spoke and looked at Pierre with a mocking or dismissive tone, but here she looks absolutely terrified of him. When he comes closer, she shrinks back against Anatole. I could see her visibly trembling. She rushes down the stairs and throws herself over one of the banquette booths.

·       When Pierre crosses her to get to Anatole she physically recoils and lifts her hand to shield herself from her husband. And maybe this is just a reaction to the visceral rage Pierre gives off, but you can’t tell me Pierre hasn’t or won’t in the future raise his hand to her. She just looks so terrified, and no one ever seems to notice this. And I just want to take her away from that home right now because she’s not safe. She’s not safe at all.

Pierre & Anatole:

·       So this is the big fight scene.

·       Pierre starts out like Marya. Restrained. But as Anatole gets more and more cocky, Pierre just grabs him and it’s truly glorious.

·       Anatole is practically shaking. But quickly recovers when Pierre realizes he’s gone too far. Side note: why the fuck can Pierre back down to Anatole and forgive him when he can’t even do that with his own wife, who is totally way less at fault here. Fucking misogyny that’s what it is.

·       So when he is all like “amuse yourself with women like my wife” Helene bolts up from where’s she’s been hunched over on the floor. The look she gives him, part terror, part rage, part disbelief like “how dare you say me or any other woman should have to go through this?” Hélène deserves better. Someone bring her to Marya’s house so they can kiss and make up.

·       During this, Natasha crosses to the middle of the stage with a glass of water. She holds it above her head and pours the arsenic into the cup. It’s such a devastating moment. And if you don’t know what’s going to happen you think she’s actually going to die. First she hunches over retching. Then after several beats, she shrieks in horror when she realizes what she’s just done. Somewhere in this, both Marya and Sonya spring up from where they’ve been waiting. Sonya looks devastated and disbelieving and as she runs after Natasha, she’s off-mic just saying no no no over and over. And Marya? Oh gods. Marya looks like she’s going to start sobbing. When she jumps up, she reaches out to Natasha desperately. Just her facial expression. Grace McLean Fuck me up.

·       Anatole takes off to Petersburg and the note he hits at the end. It’s truly a fascinating moment.

·       Hélène stares at him leaving and her heart is just shattered. She turns to Pierre as though pleading, but he just gives her this horrible glare, and she turns to lean over the banister, clinging to it to stay upright. Someone give this woman a tony for fuck’s sake.

Natasha Very Ill:

·       The song begins with sirens. Sonya crosses Marya’s path and for the first time there’s a moment of true affection between them. They’re united in their love for Natasha. Sonya looks at Marya with such devastation, and Marya reaches out to comfort her and assure her as best she can, but it’s not very effective when Marya looks as lost as she does.

·       Pierre enters the house, and leads Marya into a chair. Marya knows what to do, she always knows what to do, but now she just looks so small and helpless. There are tears pouring down her face, and just wow.

·       On the opposite side Hélène is seated. Hunched over and looking horrified and devastated over Natasha. I think Hélène, even if she wanted to shake things up, genuinely cares for Natasha (after all she is the goddaughter of her girlfriend).

·       When Sonya sings that Andrey is to return, the doors open, and the bright light once again illuminates the person coming out. When this happens, the entire cast shields their eyes, looking at him with such a variety of emotions. Marya is anxiously waiting for the axe to come, Hélène looks terrified, Sonya dreads everything. Only Pierre looks somewhat happy to see his best friend, even if it’s heaving mixed with sadness.

Pierre & Andrey:

·       So both Nicholas and Blaine deliver the “there’s a war going on” line differently. Nicholas says it with sorrow and exhaustion. Blaine says it angrily like “do you all know what’s happening? And I have to come back for this?”

·       He slaps the letters into Pierre’s hand.

·       So I’ve got some thoughts about the whole “but I didn’t say I could forgive” because on one hand if Andrey had asked Natasha to marry him again, they’d never be able to move past this. It would always be a sore spot in their life, and it probably would be a terrible marriage. But on the other hand, you fucking hypocrite. I understand where you’re coming from, but c’mon.

·       But the clincher is when Andrey returns home. It’s this exchange between him and his sister that condemns him forever for me. Mary is waiting for her brother in her father’s chair. And when she sees him she knows things are bad, but she’s just so happy to see her brother home from war and alive. She rushes to embrace him but he just shoves past her and slumps into his father’s chair. Mary’s face though. Frightened just like she was with her father, and you just know she knows the cycle is going to start up again. Because he is her father’s son. She’s completely defeated, and slumps back onto the floor at the foot of the chair. And you can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking it’s all her fault. Because that’s the kind of person Mary is… and if she had just been nicer, if she hadn’t driven Natasha away that first time…

Pierre & Natasha:

·       Natasha comes out in this shapeless shift, and I was just struck by how thin and helpless she looked.

·       This whole exchange between them is heartbreaking. Like when Pierre asks her if she loved that bad man, Natasha raises her voice telling him not to call Anatole bad. And people have said this before, but she’s just thinking that if he’s a bad man, what does that make her to fall for him?

·       When Natasha doubles over and starts to sob, your entire person feels her pain. In the last performance I saw, she sobbed even louder than I’d heard before. Because the show was ending tomorrow, and emotions were high. And I’m still not okay after that.

·       And when Pierre does his spoken line, the entire theater is dead quiet. No music, no nothing. (Side note: during my last show, the woman next to me – who kept snottily telling me that they’d take my phone away if I was using it or recording (and I wasn’t thank you very much) – her phone vibrated at this exact moment, and I can’t tell you how satisfied I was with that. I only regret that she didn’t see the amazing side eye I was giving her. And then during the next song she starts trying to make a call. Like fucks sake!!!)

The Great Comet of 1812:

·       So during this song I couldn’t help but think Dave Malloy looked a bit maniacal. His shoulders were hunched, and he had his head tilted into one of them. And he had this stupid little grin on his face. All in all, so Pierre.

·       Natasha is the comet, pass it on.

·       When the entire cast joins him, it crescendos into this beautiful, and devastating melody.

·       I was watching Grace (no surprise there) and she was physically struggling to hold it together. She kept wiping her nose and dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. And when the song ended she had to pull herself up and together to finish the bows. I know I’d be a sobbing mess, so she’s just that good!

Bows:

·       So the non-instrument playing ensemble comes to the circle around Pierre’s office, and they all take turns with their bows. Then the instrument people come and circle around. The fiddles get their spotlight, and the clarinet, and the accordions. The opera dancers get a spotlight too.

·       Then, almost in reverse order from the Prologue intros, the main cast comes out. First Balaga dances around. Mary and Andrey/Bolkonsky do their thing. Everyone is still in character because Mary is so sweet, and thankful, and when the actor for Andrey/Bolkonsky switches between roles, he turns puts on the glasses and shakes.

·       Dolokhov does this fantastic air guitar motion, and everyone cheers.

·       Then the music changes to something so joyful and upbeat with this rockesque feel. Hélène saunters around (and I forgot to mention her costume from Find Anatole to now is just this super extra dressing down, a corset, her stockings, and undergarments. It’s really something. I want one). During this Marya is just like, “ugh please” but it’s with this exasperated affection (for her girlfriend!)

·       The music changes again and Marya spins around bowing. I just really love Grace McLean.

·       She then hands it off to Sonya. And then we go to Anatole and yeah he always gets a cheer. Like Lucas Steele totally deserves it, and probably that tony as well. But like Anatole, what a fuckboy.

·       Then from the big doors, Natasha and Pierre emerge. There’s a shitton of cheering, and once they’ve acknowledged the orchestra (who all have their own costumes too!) it’s ended.

·       And we must say goodbye to our lovers once last time.

 Final Thoughts:

·       Dave Malloy is a genius who deserves better. The whole cast deserves better honestly, but they’re going on to great things.

·       Ghost Quartet is going to be coming to off-broadway for a month, and I want to go so badly.

·       Gelsey Bell isn’t real. She’s some otherworldly being with a voice of an angel.

·       Brittain Ashford is so pure, and good.

·       Denee Benton captures Natasha so well, and I’ve never seen such beauty.

·       Amber Gray? More like Amber Gay, amirite? Seriously though, I could listen to this woman all day long. Her voice could melt glaciers. And Hadestown better bring back Amber Gray because I need to hear her sing those songs.

·       If I could write an entire thing on how much I adore Grace McLean we’d be here for the rest of time. So I’ll just say that we don’t deserve this woman in our lives. She is amazing and talented, and beautiful, and is both life and wife goals.

·       But that, is all I am permitted to say.

[hartlessfiction]

A Little Inspiration

This is a flash fiction piece for my good friend @bloodandcream. Who challenged me to write a fic based around one word, the word was Canoe, she gave me an hour time frame. I went a little over but its my first time so I hope she forgives me.  Length: 3k 

Cross post AO3

This was it, it was perfect. Exactly what he needed for his final project. Castiel ripped the page out of the campus life newspaper, tossed his paint brushes back into their cup and raced out of his studio.

“Hey, what the hell Cassie?” Balthazar snapped as Castiel almost knocked his sculpture over.

“It’s perfect Bath!” He shouted back waving the newspaper clipping over his head. “Perfect.”

“Weirdo,” Balthazar mumbled as Castiel sprinted out of the arts building and towards the gymnasium. Checking his watch as he rounded the quad, if he hurried he’d be just in time to catch Dean.

Sure enough Dean was exiting the gymnasium still in his baseball uniform as Castiel staggered to a halt in front of him.

“Woah, Cas, what’s up man?” Dean asked as he helped Castiel back up from where he was hunched over gripping his knees and panting for air.

“D...Dean, i-- i--it's perfect.” He gasped holding out the clipping towards Dean.

“Later Winchester!” Gordon called

“Your friend ok?” Cole asked his face screwed up as he followed Gordon out of the locker room into the bright spring sun.

“Yeah man, he’s good, nice play today.” Dean said as Castiel finally caught his breath.

“Dean, listen, this is perfect, this is exactly what I need to get me out of my slump and finish my final project!” Castiel watched as Dean looked over the clipping his confusion evident on his face. He pulled his cap off and wiped his sweat with his wrist before putting it back on again.

“Yeah, man I guess.” He said handing the clipping back to Castiel and heading off in the direction of his dorm. “But what’s that got to do with me?”

Castiel fell in step next to Dean, they’ve been friends since high school, but sometimes Dean could be really dense. “I need you to come with me! Classes are canceled for Panther Pride Pep Rally preparations tomorrow.” Castiel grimaced, someone in the student council was a fan of alliteration, or just a fan of annoying the entire student body, he figured it was Meg.

Dean sighed readjusting his sports bag on his shoulder. “Why me, dude? I mean, like I don’t even understand what is so appealing about that.” Dean tapped the paper now wrinkled in Castiel’s hands.

Castiel was beginning to panic. This was going to be perfect for his project, it had been plaguing him for months, his last project before applying to grad school it had to be perfect! And like fate was listening, the campus newspaper had just show up on his desk, the headline article screaming out at him. Inspiration broke through the wall in his mind and he knew, he couldn't miss this opportunity. Castiel looked down at the paper in his hands and went for his trump card.

He looked up at Dean, with wide eyes and jutted out his bottom lip, full pout mode. “Please, Dean.” Castiel watched the emotions war across Dean’s face. Dean was so easy and Castiel was so close to breaking him, just one more… Castiel reached up and gently tugged on a lock of his slightly over grown hair, the curl right behind his left ear that Dean always seemed to stare at when he thought Castiel wasn’t looking. He bit his lip and pouted up at Dean, watching as the other man’s green eyes swayed to Castiel’s paint stained fingers as he gently tugged on the curl and then back to meet Castiel's eyes.

“Fine.” Dean snapped grabbing the paper out of Castiel’s hands and stomping up to his dormitory entrance. “You better bring some lunch or something, make that sandwich I like, or... whatever.” Dean turned his back his voice growing fainter, less agitated as he made his demands. If Castiel wasn’t so sure that his friend had no interest in him he would have sworn that the other man was blushing.

“Absolutely Dean, thank you so much! I owe you, I swear, all the sandwiches! All of them!” Castiel threw his arms around Dean, squeezing the other man from behind, and for the moment letting himself relish the feeling of Dean’s broad, sweaty back against his chest. If only… Castiel thought sadly.

“Ooops.”

“What!?”

“I… uh... I got a little paint on your uniform.” Castiel said already backing away.

Dean spun around, and yeah, he was definitely blushing.

“Damn it, Cas!” he bellowed as Castiel waved, darting back down the path to the arts building.

------

Dean sighed again staring down at the newspaper in his hands. It had smears of green and orange paint on the edges. How did Castiel always wind up getting him into these things. Last one was dog walking in the park, he didn’t even like dogs, neither of them even owned a dog, no they were walking other people's spoiled pooches. Before that is was bird watching, and why a person needed to be up at 3:45am to see a feakin’ owl sit without on a tree branch, Dean still didn’t understand 

But here he was yet again standing beside a Castiel so happy he could practically feel the other man vibrating, about to rent a fucking canoe and paddle out into the middle of a damn lake so said man could find inspiration in nature for his final piece. Or something.

Dean sighed and Castiel looked over at him, his hand coming up to grip Dean’s forearm. “This is going to be great.” He said with that huge gummy grin that Dean secretly coveted. Castiel bent and lifted a little blue cooler. “As promised!” He said holding it out to Dean.

“Aren’t you giving up your bribe a little early? I mean I could snag these sandwiches and just head back to campus, leaving you to paddle your own ass out into the middle of the lake.”

Castiel's face was pricelessly scandalized, he snatched the cooler back, clutching it to his chest, his cerulean eyes wide and bright in the morning sun and Dean had to force out a rough laugh before he did something stupid, like kissing his best friend.

“Winchester? Novak?”

“Come on, let’s go you hippie.” Dean laughed as the attendant called their names for their canoe.

There were a number of other people milling around waiting their turns for a spin on the lake and Dean tried his damndest not to notice how most of them appeared to be couples.

“Winchester-Novak?” An older guy with a clipboard and faded baseball cap asked as Castiel excitedly nodded. Dean tried not to focus on how nice the two names sounded together. 

“Yep. How much?” He asked fishing out his wallet. Cas already distracted by the canoes and rowboats sitting along the shore. Dean tried to ignore the way the guys eyes flicked between him and Cas, Cas’s bag of supplies, and the cooler.

“This one Dean, this one perfect.” Cas said as he sprinted off towards a green canoe. Dean sighed and handed the operator over some cash.

“Enjoy your date.” They guy said with a friendly nod before calling the next set of names. Dean grit his teeth, hunching his shoulders. Date, yeah sure, he thought. The absent comment pushed from his mind as Cas tried to climb into the canoe almost tipping it and all of his art supplies into the lake.

Dean sprinted forward in time to grab Cas by the elbow and right him. Taking the heavy bag of supplies he assisted Castiel into the far end of the canoe and then set the bags down in the middle. “Careful with the sandwiches!” Dean said as he helped Castiel into one of the two little seats.

“Wouldn't it have been easier to rent a rowboat?” Dean asked as he picked up the paddle and pressed it down into the shallow water, sinking it into the muck at the lakes edge to get a good push out into the lake.

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” Cas said absently his eyes already on the shivering reflections of the water.

Dean sighed and paddled them out, he knew Castiel was going to be no help as the younger man shifted around in his seat pointing in different directions for Dean to take them.

“Here!! This is it, it’s perfect.” Dean slowed the canoe to a stop towards the back of the lake, his shoulders ached and he had begun to sweat. There was a large weeping willow and a few cherry blossom trees on this end of the lake. It was more isolated, as many of the other boaters weren’t inclined to make the twenty minutes trip by paddle all the way over there. Only one other boat with a single occupant drifted out this far with them.

“Yes, this is perfect!” Castiel said reaching into his bag and pulling out a large pad and some charcoal pencils. Dean recognized the look on his friends face, the way his eyes narrowed and his brows pinched. How his full lips thinned out into a thoughtful line. His long fingers scrubbing over the page. Castiel was lost to his art. Dean sighed flopping back in the canoe he resigned himself to a long day on the lake. At least it was nice out. A person could really enjoy the cool breeze and natural quiet after being stuck on a college campus for weeks on end.

Dean sat for a while enjoying the solitude before his stomach gave a grumble. “Hey! Gimme my bribe!” He said holding his hand out a smile on his lips. Castiel flicked a glance to him and grunted using his foot to push the blue cooler towards Dean.

Digging through its contents he pulled out his prize. A thick fresh italian loaf, with a garlic pesto aioli, thick cuts of mozzarella, thin slices of prosciutto, and a smattering of baby spinach. There was also two beers and a bottle of water. Dean’s mouth watered as he drew in a deep breath of the delicious treat. He moaned around the first bite and the boat rocked slightly causing his eyes to pop open. Castiel was staring resolutely out over the water a faint blush on he cheeks. Dean smirked to himself and took another bite, giving a deep groan, Castiel’s eyes widened slightly and then he quickly dipped his head his hand flying over the paper.

“Shh.” he scolded and Dean couldn't help but laugh. Maybe, after all this time, Castiel wasn’t as immune to Dean as Dean thought he was.

Time passed quickly and finally Dean convinced Castiel to stop and eat, so distracted with his project and the lake it had taken Dean threatening to eat Castiel’s half of the sandwich to get him to finally look up.

“Oh man.” Dean laughed, at some point Castiel had rubbed a thick line of black charcoal along his cheek. “How do you always end up wearing more of your supplies then your art?” Dean asked and without thinking reached out and began to rub the thick line with his fingers.

Castiel stilled under his ministrations, eyes wide, lips parted and Dean couldn't help but feel that this, right now, this is the time, just kiss him and it's done, and he’ll know and that's it. But once again he didn’t, pulling his hand back Dean licked his lips, “Right... There you go.” he said before looking back out over the lake again.

“Thanks…” Castiel whispered as Dean settled back on his side of the boat. His eyes kept drifting to Castiel though, unable to ignore how passionate and focused the other man was. Dean had always admired that about Cas, his blind ambition, how he never gave a fuck about anything anyone else thought. How he maddeningly pursued his goals.

When Cas had come out as pansexual, it had seemed so natural on him. No one blinked an eye at it, just another day with Castiel, but it had rocked Dean’s world. Dean settled back in the canoe, closing his eyes letting the bright sun overhead warm his skin. Dean’s world of overbearing fathers and baseball and preconceived notions of love and success. Dean let out a rough sigh. Curling his hands behind his head he let the gentle rocking of the boat and the scratching of Castiel's charcoal pencil lull his stress away.

“Dean…”

“Dean… wake up.”

Dean snapped awake rocking the canoe they were in. “Jesus…” he groaned the boat gave a lurch and Castiel yelped gripping the edge.

“Sorry Cas.” he grumbled sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Again Castiel had rubbed charcoal all over his face and Dean couldn’t do anything but laugh. The man was adorable.

“Please, no worries. You were perfect today Dean, as always. Thank you for all of your help today. I find I get so much more work done when you’re around.” Castiel sighed happily as he flipped his sketchbook closed and slipped it back into his bag. “I think we should head back now, most of the other boats have been back for some time.”

“Sure thing Cas. I know you only love me for my muscle.” Dean winked as he picked up the oar and turned them back towards the shore.

------

“Hey Winchester!” Gordon’s voice pulled Dean from whatever Castiel had been saying. Something about a museum and a limited showing, he didn’t understand but Cas was excited about it so it must be good.

Gordon, Al, Cole, and Inias were heading their way and Gordon looked like he had just won nationals. The shit eating grin split his normally angry face. His dark eyes flicked between Dean and Castiel his smile only growing wider.

“Hey, Cassie was it?” Gordon asked as the group came to a stop by Dean and Castiel. Gordon looked fit to burst. “Good friend of yours huh Dean?” Gordon asked and Dean narrowed his eyes at his teammate.

“His names Castiel and yeah he is...” Dean said suspiciously.

“Dean and I have been very close since high school.” Castiel offered, obviously not picking up on the dangerous air.

“That right?” Gordon said feigning surprise. “Long time huh? You guys always go on romantic dates together?” he said with a shrug causing Al and Inas to snicker behind him,

“What?” Dean asked feeling a crack in his carefully constructed foundation beginning to form.

Gordon pulled the campus newspaper out from his back pocket, the front article was about the romantic vistas of the newly reopened lake and walking trail, and right there, as the main photo of the article, were Cas and Dean. Dean groaned and he felt Cas stiffen at his side.

The photo was the exact moment Dean had reached out to rub the charcoal from Castiel’s face. It looked bad, it looked like one of those stupid romantic comedy movie posters. Them in their stupid little canoe framed by the stupid weeping willow, and the stupid cherry blossom trees. The longer Dean looked at the photo the more he saw his stupid love stricken face staring at Cas’s… stupid… love stricken….. face…. It couldn't be? Could it?

Dean glanced at Cas and saw the blush rising over his features. God he was beautiful, all that dark hair, those blue eyes, brimming with so much passion and strength. He watched as Castiel's chin came up, his blue eyes flashing as the caught Dean’s and Dean knew it was now or never. He knew that whatever he said in this moment Castiel would back, but it would change them forever.

He wasn’t going to fuck it up.

“Got something you wanna tell us Winchester?” Gordon taunted. “Wouldn’t be nuthin that would ruin your full ride here would it?” Al burst out laughing clutching his side and leaning against Gordon.

“Yeah, always thought you were a bit of a queer!” Al wheezed over Gordon’s shoulder. 

Dean’s hands fisted at his side, Cole and Inias looked uncomfortable and Castiel looked like he would reign fire down from the heavens if he could. For some reason it brought a strange sense of calm to Dean. Seeing Castiel get angry on his behalf. Dean smiled.

“Naw, Gordon, I don’t have anything to tell you.” Dean said calmly his smile growing as Castiel looked over at him confused. Dean lifted his arm and draped it over Castiel’s shoulder. Hoping he wasn’t wrong, hoping that the way Castiel looked in that newspaper article was really how he felt about Dean. Castiel instinctively lent against him, Dean said, “You got anything to tell them, babe?”

Without waiting, Dean lifted Castiel's chin and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Felling the other man’s breath catch in his chest, Dean leaned in and deepened the kiss. Castiel’s hands came up and fisted against the front of his shirt. Dean pulled back slightly lost in the shimmering blue of Castiel’s eyes he whispered “Been wanting to do that for years now, Cas.”

“God, me too!” Cas laughed out throwing his arms around Deans shoulders and kissing him back.

“You fucking faggot.” Gordon sneered, causing Dean to pull back from Cas’s lips, an angry frown on his face. “I’ll be sure you get kicked off the team, I won’t play ball with some cock sucker like you.”

“Actually Gordon, I think it’s you we're going to have a problem with.” Head coach Singer's voice called from where he’d been standing in the doorway to the locker rooms. “Discrimination, name calling, defamatory language.. I don’t think our team has a place for someone as intolerant as you.”

Gordon stared mouth open at their coach.

“What! You’ve got to be kidding me Coach! We’ll be a laughing stock with this fa…”

“That’s enough Gordon! One more word and I’ll be filing sexual discrimination paperwork on behalf of Winchester and his partner. Now get in my office, or do you want your seven game suspension to turn into something more!” Singer barked “You too Alistar!”

Dean couldn't help but smile, the man of his dreams tucked under his arm, the bane of his existence suspended, if not fully barred entirely, from the team. Dean never thought in his wildest dreams he could be so happy as Gordon and Al slunk off into the locker room. Cole and Inas making themselves scarce. Castiel reached up, his paint covered fingers sliding through Dean's hair.

“You’re serious right?” he asked his voice trembled slightly. “Because I was, I swear.”

“Hell yea.” Dean smiled closing the distance between them and sealing their lips together. Everything was perfect, Dean finally felt like the pieces of his life fit together seamlessly.

Castiel was magic, well, ok, maybe a little bit of it was the canoe.

[singingpeople]

8. Eric - Clash of the titans

I know it´s been a long time, sorry :( But it´s extremely hard to switch between stories & it throws me off the loop every time :D But I hope the little smut made up for it! 

 I would like to know why the hell this Eric gif appears under ´ innocent ´   We all know he is anything but... :D

@pathybo @tigpooh67 @jojuarez26 @jaiboomer11 @bookwarm85 @iammarylastar @beautifulramblingbrains @love17mwh @deepfrz @lets-play-truth-or-dare @carefultheyspit @diary2000

„Where have you been, dude?! I´ve searched for over an hour!“ Sighing, Eric sat down beside his outraged and pretty annoyed best friend, ordering himself a beer with a hand sign to the barkeeper. He desperately needed one to get his thoughts off the little stiff and everything that was even remotely about her.

The young leader had worked the whole day, doing paperwork before meeting Amy in the infirmary for her first ultrasound. It had been delayed to her tenth week because she was still too selfless to demand to get the nearest appointment which was okay with Eric that she let a few other´s choose before she did.

But choosing as the last one and having to wait for weeks was something he couldn't understand.

Eric wasn’t a patient man so he had been aggravated from the very beginning.

And when she started with her perfect little plan, that she had figured out under so much duress and explained how she would be able to tell her brother what they two of them had done, Eric had to suppress the exasperation he felt. He didn’t want to scold her but she didn’t have one clue as what to do.

Even though he now had to admit it was a little amusing that she was so clueless, it had annoyed him.

A smirk threatened to curl his lips up while he thought about her shocked expression but when Wayne mustered him with a strange look Eric carefully composed his face, showing the leader mask, his best friend knew too well.

 “I´ve been busy.” His reply was curt, not wanting to give Wayne the chance to sense that something was wrong. Seeing his child had rattled Eric to the core, for once showing his weak side as his erudite-like mind tried to figure out how to keep both, Amy and the little one save.

After all, he was a leader, always a target not just to factionless rebels but also to inner faction threats that wanted to bring him down, just because they didn't agree with his methods.

And now Amy would walk around with a huge target on her back, just like his unborn child calling for those fuckers to hurt them. How easy would it be to wound or to abduct them?

The perfect leverage, to make the young leader do everything they wanted. To make him their puppet that would strangle itself with the strings in the end.

Eric knew he had to let Max know they needed 24/7 surveillance and their best soldiers in standby since her dickhead of brother wouldn’t think of it, wouldn’t think of protecting his own sister.

He needed to know where she was at all times.

His little stiff.

 "Yeah, clearly," Wayne responded dryly, eying him up as if searching for clues. “And why did your secretary tell me you had an appointment with a gynecologist? I seriously hope you´re not hiding from me that you´re secretly a woman. That would be gross.”

 "Fuck you, Wayne." Eric gritted his teeth, annoyed that the damn nosy bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut and his best friend didn’t know when to draw the line. He fiddled with the cap of the bottle avoiding his gaze, harshly scolding him. “It´s none of your business.”

 “Come on!” Whining, Wayne slumped down on the table, scowling like a toddler. “I´m your best friend! I even followed you out of erudite so cut the crap and tell me what the hell is going on. You haven’t been yourself lately and I´m taking the chance of sounding like a sappy tree hugger but I´m worried.”

 Eric contemplated for a moment, deciding it would be best to tell his best friend of his predicament now before he found out otherwise but someone interrupted him, yelling his name.

“Eric!”

Before he could even turn around to face the person that called him a hand came out of nowhere, slapping the bottle from his hand. It flew against the wall, shattering into thousand pieces.

Whipping his head around, to rip the person who had dared to disrespect him in such a way Eric wasn’t prepared for the fist that met his jaw with so much force, it sent him to the floor.

Not hesitating for a second, Eric lessened the impact with a backwards roll standing back up immediately, hands in a defensive position ready to kill whoever attacked him.

 Raising his gaze, the young leader came face to face with an outrageous Four, all muscles tensed like a snake about to strike.

Eric knew instantly what had happened.

The little stiff must have come out sooner than he anticipated. He appreciated that she came out clean but a little heads up would have been great. At least then number boy wouldn’t have been able to catch him off guard for everyone to see.

 "What the hell, man?" Wayne shouted, looking ready to intervene, but Eric subtly shook his head stopping him. This was his fight. "Four, what are you doing?"

 But Four ignored him completely, as he and Eric sized each other up, the rest of the members and all the noise around them fading into distance.

Number boy tensed up, eyes blazing and as he opened his mouth the leader knew exactly what pitiful accusations he would throw at him.

"How dare you lay hand on my sister?!"

 The gasps and whispers that arose, leaving no doubt that the whole compound would hear of this before the day would be over, were oblivious to them both, eyes glued to only each other.

 "Lay hand on her?” Eric mocked, lips curling into a cruel smirk. ”I just gave her what she asked for, as long and as hard as she asked for. I didn't force her to anything. Let's rather say she was more than compliant."

 Images of pale thighs wrapped around his head flashed by in front of his eyes and he almost missed the second punch that was thrown at him. By reflex he narrowly avoided what would have been the biggest humiliation of his life and when Four´s hand flew by his face, he grabbed his wrist pulling him closer.

Planting two quick hits on his abdomen Eric pushed him away again, eyes narrowed as he flexed his aching jaw.  But Four wasn’t that easy to relent and he knew that.

 When he came again at the young leader, Eric tried to land another punch, this time aimed at Four´s head but he merely blocked it. Unfazed by the power it held he rammed his shoulder into the young leader’s guts, knocking the wind out of him.

From somewhere beside him he thought to hear his little stiff but his mind was too occupied to check if she really was there. She could watch him beating Four´s ass into next week, though.

 Eric hit the ground, for a moment to wind up to move as Four straddled him, knees caging his arms to his body, rendering him unable to do anything against Four´s fists that started flying into Eric´s unprotected face, his head slamming back against the concrete.

 He retaliated not even a second later, sending his knee into number boy´s back, using his pain induced stiffness to roll them over. Not bothering to brush away the blood that dripped from a cut above his eyebrow into his eyes, Eric started showering him with punches fueled by rage but Four did his best to block them, forearms protecting his face.

The young leader only got one good punch in, his opponents nose starting to gush blood immediately before Four placed his elbow in Eric´s guts. Pushing him off, he scrambled away to gather his wits and catch his breath.

 Eric did the same. Pushing himself up he wiped from under his eye, only managing to smear the blood all over his face. But he couldn’t ponder long about the fact that it most likely will leave a scar since number boy whose nose looked suspiciously crooked decided he didn't have enough yet.

Ducking away from under his next punch, Eric´s fist just only brushed Four´s ribs still with enough force to cause a bruise later but not leaving a lasting damage like he had hoped.

 They circled each other, striking over and over again as both tried to inflict as much pain as they possibly could, their blows too powerful as that anyone would have dared to intervene and risk being knocked out cold.

Or worse.

Their fight, so close in skill, speed and force went on for several painful minutes, leaving Eric´s whole body aching. It was the first real fight the both of them had since initiation. Back then the young leader had taunted and mocked him to such an extent that Four showed his real face.

Wasn´t a pretty one.

He had to spend almost a week in the infirmary and Eric wasn’t one to whine, but that had hurt.

 The young leader was pleased that he had no doubt improved his technique, his nemesis not being able to knock him out easily. Still, he knew it was a far shot to say he´d be winning anytime soon even though he would never admit it. He would rather die than losing to Four while the whole faction was watching.

It would mean he had failed as a leader and should take the next trip to the chasm.

 Both of them were to focused on beating each other, anticipating every possible move that they didn’t even hear their superior´s entrance, even less the words he spoke or the way everyone instantly quieted down. They only snapped out of it, when suddenly there were people detaining them, Wayne and Peter dragging a beaten Eric away while talking intently, Uriah, Will and Zeke doing the same with Four.

 But Eric didn’t listen to his best friend as he watched the little redhead stumble towards her brother, face tear-stained and hands wringing furiously.

With narrowed eyes, he observed how her asshole of brother that had been glaring at him the whole time now channeled his anger towards her, looking disgusted that she even thought about touching him now that she had been defiled with Eric´s touch.

 Placing his hand on Wayne´s chest without looking away from Amy, Eric slowly pushed him away and Wayne reluctantly let go, knowing there was nothing that would keep him here.

With slow steady steps the young leader walked forwards, his eyes trailed on the woman carrying his child, that was desperately begging her brother to understand.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he insulted her in the worst way possible.

 Eric only heard `Father was right´ and `whore´, enough to make the anger boil again hot in his chest as he registered what the bastard just said to his sister. Clenching his fists, Eric was so close to strangling him but before he could execute his very accurate plan of murder Amy stumbled back as if taking a blow, almost falling to the ground.

Eric caught her shaking form keeping her upright, the little stiff almost limp in his arms as she sobbed heartbreakingly into his chest.

Scooping her up, the young leader threw Four his most livid glare promising him a slow and excruciating death.

"I suggest you´ll leave right this instant if you don't want me to kill you in the most painful way possible. Since you are apparently ´no brother of hers´ there is nothing that will hold me back.” Looking down at the woman in his arms, he tightened his grip as he once again heard the strangled sobs leaving her throat. ”So get the fuck out of my sight!"

 His annoying friends started to pull him out of the pit, while his more than infuriating girlfriend had her hands placed on his chest to keep him in line. All of them were shitting their pants, wanting to get away from the glares Eric was throwing them. They did their best to get Four away from the young leader before he could draw his weapon shoot him.

Certainly a most satisfying solution.

It wasn’t as if anyone could say something against it. After all, Eric was the leader.

He was the embodiment of the system.

 Realizing that practically half of the faction was staring at him, his best friend included Eric threw all of them dirty looks, meeting Wayne´s raised eyebrow with a meaningful look that basically told him everything he needed to know before striding out of the pit with quick steps.

 Amy had her head buried in his chest not once looking up as the young leader carried her through the hallways. He assumed her state was mostly caused by her brother´s words that hurt her in the most painful way, deliberately targeting her insecurities to use them against her.

Nothing that Eric wouldn’t do, but he would never talk to his sister that he claimed to love in such a fashion.

Real dick move.

 Noticing that Amy grew quieter, only hiccupping occasionally Eric pressed his lips to her forehead, inhaling deeply.

Her sweet scent as always soothing his mind that lay in turmoil.

With his hand that was slung around her torso, Eric drew circles on the exposed skin of her stomach, where her t-shirt had ridden up a little.

Feeling the strange need to comfort her, Eric heard himself mutter words he never thought would ever leave his mouth.

"We are your family now"

After changing a sleeping Amy out of her uncomfortable looking clothes into one of his too tight shirts, Eric laid her down on his bed tugging her in before quietly leaving the room.

Not wanting to wake her up, being aware she cried herself to sleep Eric used the second bathroom in his flat.

In front of the mirror, he cleaned the cut on his forehead, before injecting himself with a dose of healing serum he had stashed in his medicine cabinet for exact these situations.

He hated going to the infirmary so it made sense to him to have a little stash at his disposal whenever he needed it.

 Stripping out of his clothes, Eric stepped into the shower the almost scolding water soothing the ache of his tense muscles and forming bruises. He seriously hoped that the serum would cause the very purple bruise on his jaw to disappear until tomorrow morning. He didn’t need a visible reminder that fueled his desire to skin Four alive more than he already wanted to.

Finished in the bathroom, Eric dressed in the only casual clothes he owned: sweatpants and a loose fitting shirt.

 Back in the kitchen, he grabbed himself another beer since he never came around to finish his first one. Taking a seat on a stool in front of the island, occasionally sipping his beer Eric got lost in his thoughts.

What his little stiff would do now that she had experienced the wrath of her brother, how he would handle his insubordination in initiation, Eric was sure to come or how the hell he should take care of a child.

The only positive thing about the situation was that Amy used to be a stiff so Eric was sure she´d be more than capable of handling the child herself when he was away doing leadership business.

Maybe the only advantage of associating with stiffs in the first place.

 Still, Eric couldn’t deny that he was worried about her, not just his child. He knew that she could take more than it seemed but her mind was still fragile, cracked by countless years of abuse and Eric vowed that if any of the stress caused by her brother harmed the baby, he would kill him with bare hands.

 Distracted by his thoughts, Eric neither noticed the time passing by nor the young woman who shyly came tapping out of his bedroom. Startled by a noise he lifted his head from where he had buried it in his hands, gaze trailing over the redhead that stood there, nervously wringing with the hemline of his shirt.

 Amy looked tired, her eyes red from crying as she avoided his questioning gaze. She answered his question if everything was alright that she just was thirsty and had a headache, no doubt from crying herself to sleep.

Flicking his eyes over her bare legs, Eric got up to pour her a glass of orange juice, something he knew she drank with every meal no matter what she was eating. Placing it on the counter, he came to a halt behind her fingers placed on her temples.

Eric knew it was an effective way to get rid of a headache since he had no idea what kind of headache pill he could give her without harming the baby.

Sighing in content at the relief he brought her Amy rested her head against his pecs, closing her eyes for a moment. Eric watched her head tilted, he was glad to get her to relax a little after this shitty day.

 After a minute he slowly stepped back, leaving Amy to down the whole glass in a few gulps. Looking up at him, she asked how he knew what she liked to drink. The question made Eric more than just mildly uncomfortable since he didn’t want her to know he´d basically been watching her since the day she appeared on the roof looking like an angel from heaven send down to earth for his personal punishment.

So he deflected.

 But seeing her face fall with disappointment, Eric had to roll his eyes at his own behavior as he, after all, confessed that she indeed had captured his attention long ago. And the worst thing was that he couldn't stop.

Soon he had told her that he memorized all her six fears, what they were and how impressed he had been by her performance.

And even though he had vowed to himself to never let anyone have that kind of leverage over him, the moment Eric saw her eyes lighting up with happiness he knew exposing his softer side had been worth it.

Still, he had enough serious conversations for one night and he started teasing her with his words as well as his not so subtle touches.

 To make her laugh he brought up her most embarrassing fear, making her quickly cover his mouth with her hands which were preventing him from reaching his goal. To kiss every single inch of her skin.

 Capturing her wrists in one of his big hands, Eric pinned her against the wall continuing to trail his moist lips over the sensitive skin of her neck while Amy seemingly endless ranted on about how Clowns were creepy only making Eric chuckle.

He didn’t really know what to say to her. Here he was, doing his best to seduce her, while his little stiff seemed hell-bent to explain some psychological shit to him. As if he hadn't heard enough of that from his father every time he saw him, which luckily hadn’t been much.

Eric knew he needed to up his game.

 Pretending to pay attention to her little rant, Eric´s hand stealthily trailed beneath her shirt, caressing the bare skin of her hip. Snickering to himself when he heard her breath hitch Eric decided to play innocent as he looked up, his lips ghosting over hers.

Right in that moment, he remembered the cruel words he spoke about her and something he had seldom felt before sharply twisted his guts.

Regret.

 And so he did something he never did.

He apologized.

 But his little one seemed not too bothered about it because before he knew what happened, her mouth was pressed against his in a searing kiss, her tongue sneaking through his lips clashing with his.

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me."

 Startled by her demand Eric froze for a second before a sly smirk curled up his lips. Grabbing the hem of the shirt, he pulled it over her head, diving right back into their kiss.

“My pleasure.”

With that he picked her up, hands gripping her bare thighs as he carried a squealing Amy into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them before ridding himself of his clothes in one motion.

 Instead of throwing her onto the bed like he had done the first time he had her in here, Eric sat down so that his little stiff straddled him, hands trailing over her side making her squirm. But it was effective. Now her bare chest was pressed against his, as their tongues intertwined battling for dominance, her hips rocking against his bulge.

Amy was the first to pull back, biting her lip she seemed to contemplate something. Letting herself sliding from his lap she slapped Eric´s hands away that grabbed for her, making him furrow his brow.

“What are you doing?”

 But she only shushed him, now kneeling in front of him looking up with big eyes as her hand tentatively came to a stop at his boxers, fingers just dipping inside caressing the happy trail that lead down south.

Getting an idea where this was going, Eric incredulously raised his hips letting the little vixen proceed in pulling down his underwear not believing his luck or that this was really happening.

Facing his manhood at eye level Amy bit her lip, scrutinizing it closely from every angle possible before she hesitantly touched it with one finger, trailing it up and down.

Eric groaned at the slight friction, grabbing her hand in his bigger one to wrap it around his member fully, showing her exactly how to stroke. But Amy pulled her hand back, tsking at him, forbidding him to touch.

Exhaling deeply, Eric let himself fall down on his bed thighs spread widely, hands crossed behind his head just enjoying her hesitant touches that grew more confident with each second.

 Amy had established a satisfying pace, both hands wrapped around his shaft when suddenly something hot and wet touched the head of his member, making his head snap up in surprise.

Looking down Eric was faced with the most erotic sight he had ever had the pleasure to witness.

There she sat, his little redhead, hair framing her angelic face eyes innocently watching him while her pouty lips were wrapped around the top of his member.

When she moved her tongue he instinctively clenched his hips to prevent himself from cumming right there and then. Grunting he flogged down again, one hand tangling in Amy´s hair while he fisted the blanket above his head with his other.

She slowly started to bob her head, careful to not touch his sensitive skin with her teeth, taking him deeper each time she swirled her tongue around until Eric knew he couldn't hold back any longer. With the hand in her hair, he pulled her back, almost laughing when she started pouting at him.

“Don´t worry princess. You´ll soon get what you want.”

 With that he pulled her up by her hips, ripping her underwear off when she came to stand in front of him. Amy gasped in response to Eric´s hands on her butt, roughly massaging her cheeks while he pulled her closer forcing her to straddle him again.

Hovering directly over him, Eric smirked now that he had her exactly where he wanted her.

 Gripping himself with one hand, he positioned his length directly under her entrance hissing in pleasure when he felt her velvety hotness engulf him. Amy slowly sank down but stopped after a few inches, breathing ragged she tried to get her bearings.

But Eric wasn’t known for his patience.

 Gripping the hair at her nape, he pulled her head back with enough force to make her obey him, but still careful not to hurt her, exposing her neck that would soon be full of love marks while simultaneously pushing her hips down, forcing her to take all of him at once.

Amy shrieked at the sudden fullness, back arching, not knowing if she wanted to escape being impaled or to get more of the delicious friction. But when Eric who was gently biting along her neck leaving his marks of ownership on her flawless skin, slowly lifted her up again just to pull her back down she slowly started gyrating her hips in response.

Fueled by her gentle movement Eric quickened his pace, lifting her up before pulling her back down over and over again.

 Establishing a rhythm, Amy rocked her hips meeting him thrust for thrust moaning loudly every time he hit an especially sensitive spot deep inside her, she kissed him passionately. Eric was still gripping her hair, soon forcing her to arch her back making her even tighter for him than she already was.

Moving against each other, in sync with each other, it didn't take long for Amy to arrive at the brink of something big, Eric right behind her as he rocked them into bliss, bodies rubbing against each other.

With one last upwards thrust Amy shattered, a high pitched moan leaving her open mouth as she convulsed around his hard shaft, triggering Eric´s release. Pulling her head back even further, he bit down heightening the sensations that rocked her to the core as he spilled himself into her with a grunt and a few more uncoordinated thrusts, riding out his own orgasm.

 Trying to catch his breath Eric slumped back into the mattress, his little stiff collapsing completely spent in a boneless heap on top of him. Closing his eyes, it didn’t take long for the image of the little redhead kneeling in front of him to flash vividly behind his eyes and despite the great climax he just experienced, Eric felt himself growing hard again.

As did Amy.

 With wide eyes she looked up at him, almost scared of his answer, she squeaked. “Again?”

 “Again.” Smirking dirty, Eric grabbed her, gently situating her in the middle of his bed. Crawling on top of her, he positioned himself again, watching her beautiful face closely.

Thrusting inside her a second time, the last conscious thought he had was that she indeed had been an angel send from heaven to make him pay for every sin he had ever committed.