#and getting these assignments done before the end of tufts

[ladye-zelda]

Wanna draw but

Unfortunately self care comes first 😞

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...Forest Ranger Dean

Pairing: Forest Ranger!Dean x reader

“Hi,” you said into your phone, speaking as soon as you heard the other end pick up. “This is Y/N Y/L/N and I don’t mean to be a bother but there’s sort of a big black bear outside in my yard and it’s uh, not going away.”

“You want the forest ranger, Miss,” said the voice on the other end. “One moment.”

You sighed as you looked out your back window, the bear still roaming around, lazily taking a seat and laying in the sunny backyard.

“Dude, go away,” you said.

“Excuse me?” said the other end of the phone.

“Sorry. I was talking to the bear,” you said, getting silence on the other end for a few seconds.

“Can you safely tell me what the bear is doing?” he asked.

“Um, sunbathing from the looks of it,” you said.

“Remain indoors. I’ll be over there soon.”

“Charlie, go home,” said a man in a brown uniform and jeans, wandering into your backyard. The bear rolled on its side and the man ran a hand through his hair. “Charlie.”

The bear stood up and yawned before it padded out of your yard. The man walked around to the front of your house and knocked at the door.

“Thanks,” you said.

“You’re not from around here. Everybody knows Charlie,” he said. “He’s got that white tuft of fur that’s like the shirt Charlie Brown wears.”

“It’s still a bear,” you said.

“Yes, it is. Be more conscious of keeping the fence to your backyard shut,” he said. “Charlie loves to get his tan on.”

“So if I keep my door shut-“

“Charlie will just keep on passing by. Don’t feed him and keep your distance but Charlie is friendly,” said the man.

“Thanks,” you said. “Wait don’t bears like garbage?”

“I’m teaching a class on wilderness safety this afternoon if you want to stop by the rangers station. We’re right next to the entrance to the state park down the road,” he said. “Starts at 2.”

“Thanks. Maybe I’ll swing by.”

You were giving the ranger a bitch face when you finally caught his attention at the station.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, waving you into the back room when he was done counting heads. “Come on in.”

“That’s a group of kindergarteners,” you said.

“Their teacher said it’s okay,” he said. You grumbled but followed him inside, standing along the back wall with a few other bored looking adults. “Okay little guys and gals. In case you don’t know me-“

“I know you, Uncle De,” said a girl near the front.

“I know you do, rascal,” he said, ruffling the top of her head as he walked past to the other side of the room. “For those of you that don’t know me, I’m Ranger Dean Winchester, also Emma’s Uncle, but you guys can call me Dean.”

“Can I?” asked the little girl from before.

“No, rascal,” he said with a smile. “Now sh, Uncle De’s got to tell all your friends about being safe in the woods.”

Dean went into a presentation of the local area and the animals that lived there, the types of plants that grew and basically a bunch of places they should never go without an adult with them.

“Now kiddos, who wants to go for a hike?” asked Dean. A bunch of hands shot up and you took that as your cue to leave. Dean grunted when you started to go for the door. You went back to your spot, Dean moving the kids into their smaller groups with their assigned chaperones. He paused once they were outside in the parking lot, nodding at you. “Hold up.”

“Do I really have to go on this little nature hike?” you asked.

“You won’t pass the class if you don’t,” he said with a smirk. “Come on. You’re the one I’m most worried about.”

“Me?” you said with a scoff.

“Uh huh. All those kids have parents that know what they’re doing. You...you make me concerned and I don’t want to be concerned so I’d rather you go on our little hike and learn a little bit more,” he said.

“What do I get out of this?” you asked.

“Peace of mind for one. I’ll buy you dinner tonight too,” he said with a cock of his head.

“Dinner?” you asked.

“Hey. Gorgeous single women don’t exactly move here all that often. I’m not above asking you out before somebody else in town can,” he said.

“I didn’t move here to date,” you said. “I moved here to get away from guys actually.”

“Oh. We do suck sometimes,” he said with a smirk. “One little date though? No strings. Just dinner at our one restaurant in town. I mean, it’s the least you can do after I saved you from that viscous bear this morning.”

“Fine,” you said. “You get one date, Casanova.”

“That’s all I’ll need.”

[turtlebra1nrot]

Third Time's A Charm

Johnathon Ohnn (I/ATSV) x You

The first three times you met up with Johnathon for your project, they were more than pleasant. The fourth time was complete and sudden hell. And the fifth was, unexpectedly, nothing short of libidinous.

CHAPTER 1/6: PARTNERS...

A choir of groans and sighs filled the lecture hall after the professor's thoroughly voiced announcement of their new project having to be done in pairs.

"Yeah, moan and whine all you want. You're adults. You're gonna have human interaction anyway, suck it up." The professor responded sluggishly to the class's verbal distaste. You didn't particularly mind, however. In fact you'd hoped for this. Work had been piled up for you lately and you thought maybe having someone to help with a major assignment might do you some good.

Partners were selected by surname. The professor went down the roster while roving leisurely around the lecture hall at the same time. They came to a stop at the left side of the table where you were seated, looking at them expectantly. "You're withhhh— oh." The professor's tone was still laced with boredom but a hint of bewilderment seemed to weasel its way in. A few mutters left their parted lips. "...only one left? I'm sure I called of you..." their last string of words found your ear.

After more awkward silence from the class and professor, their eyes lit up. "Ah, I missed one. You." They call, swiveling at 180 degrees to lock eyes with someone else. A messy tuft of brown hair pulled into a low-ponytail shifted a bit in your field of vision. Then a pair of squared glasses and brown, doe eyes followed. "Ohnn. You're with them, alright? Alright." The professor then simply walks back to their desk at the front of the hall just as the intercom goes off, signifying the end of the class. Students exchange numbers, emails, socials — while you watch your own partner from afar.

You knew it'd be courteous to get up on your own two feet and go introduce yourself. But you waited to see if the guy'd come to you.

He didn't.

Ohnn sat there, head practically buried in his notes. You wouldn't be surprised if he was actually making out with that damn paper. But it was clear he wouldn't come to greet you any time soon. So with a twinge of exasperation, you huff — pushing yourself up from your seat — and walk over to the table in the third row while leaning your palms against its smooth oak wood.

"Hey." You spoke up. He nearly flew with the way he jumped back in surprise. Jesus, he's tense.

His brown eyes seem to almost bulge out of his head as he eyes you with shock, glasses slipping down the bridge of his straight nose unnoticeably. Despite the initial shock of his flinch, he attempted to gather a few words. Though he stumbled over his own tongue, "Wh- I — d-did you....need something?" Ohnn murmurs. It's like he wasn't used to being acknowledged or something. You let a smile fall upon your lips and stifle a chuckle, "Looks like we're partners, Ohnn."

The look on the guy's face voiced pure confusion but he did not protest. He was quiet again before shutting his college-rule notebook, "Looks like it..." he uttered feebly while seeming to give you a once-over. Johnathon could feel your eyes studying him as well in the silence and he hated it. He hadn't really been paying all that much attention during the lecture, so he unfortunately gained a partner who he hardly knew. As if he knew anyone other than his own family in the first place. The young man stood from his seat and that was when you could read him more clearly.

Johnathon seemed to fold in on himself as he stood. Arms tightly pressed to his sides, legs together, posture extremely informal, etc. Even with his stature he was like a frail dog, unable to hold eye contact for too long and keeping himself at a low profile. He seemed to make himself appear small. It made you feel kind of bad. No wonder he was so tense...

"You want my number? I'll text you my dorm and we can get started whenever, no pressure." It was like a bid with him. Convincing him to visit your place so you could both work. You could easily tell he might feel unease at the idea, so you kept it plain and simple for him. Johnathon steadily breathed in spite of his racing heart. He wasn't good with making plans with others because he'd get sidetracked and forget about them. He'd feel terrible to do that for a first impression. "Yeah, we could do that...if you'd like, that is. I don't wanna like, force you to do it o-or whatever—" "Dude. I offered. No need to worry." You try to reassure him with words and a smile. A croaky laugh left his lips as he realized he had been on the verge of an apologetic ramble, "Right. Sorry."

"You're good, Ohnn." You reaffirm your previous words. Johnathon nods whilst bending down to grasp the handle of his tote-bag, stuffing his notes carelessly inside. Once up straight (or as straight as he normally stood), he speaks again, "Hey, I don't mind being called Johnathon or John. I think Ohnn's a little formal since we're, y'know— partners?"

Johnathon looks down at the person before him with careful eyes, trying to gauge their reaction. He hoped that statement wasn't too forward. He never really knew when to keep things casual or professional so he always just assumed. God, what if that was too much for them? Did he really have to say that? Maybe they could just call him Ohnn, it's not a big deal—

"Sure thing."

Your response was simple. He hadn't gotten the stink eye like he'd thought he would. Johnathon's smile is sheepish when he clears his throat and hesitantly nods. He didn't always have conversations longer than 20 seconds. Talking with you had been a breath of fresh air for him and he couldn't tell if the churning in his belly was excitement, anxiety, or joy.

He exchanged numbers with you before departing from the lecture hall and moving onto his next class. He had a math exam that period and with the boost of morale from last period, he felt somewhat prepared.

[partialconstellations]

WIP WORD SEARCH

tagged by @jeyne-stark

my words were rose | cloud | sleep | red | legacy

cloud

from the Theonsa professor/TA au: Theon tries (and fails) not to be biased against the new professor joining their department and realises, that actually, they’ve met (in the carnal sense) before.

And then, Rodrik got sick, knocking their department head out of commission for at least the semester, if not the entire term, leaving the perpetually understaffed Ironborn history department scrambling to find someone to fill in on a couple of classes on such short notice. The person they found is technically qualified, but she was poached from the Northern history department—those pricks—and the ink on her diploma hasn’t even dried yet. How someone who studied the North could possibly be anything but biased against the Iron Islands, well.

Luckily, Theon is in the best possible position to watch her, because at least someone was sane enough to assign someone from within the department as her TA. It’s not quite nepotism – except it quite literally is – that he got the job. It’s also because nobody else applied for it, making him the most qualified by default.

So when she sweeps into their glorified corridor of a common room in a cloud of sunshine and with an air of superiority—real or imagined—around her, she’s already got all eyes on her and the possibility of someone already plotting her murder. It’s clear from the very first moment that she doesn’t (and won’t) fit in.

sleep

Robb survives the RW and is taken prisoner, Sansa is elected KitN instead of Jon, Robb marches North with the smallest of forces after Arya frees him; also Dany arrives at some point and is outmaneuvred from the very start. no, this doesn’t have a snappy title. also, Robb and Sansa end up sharing their Theon.

Sansa and Robb both had taken great pains in dressing for the occasion -- or rather, Sansa had done so on Robb’s behalf. He just as likely would have greeted the dragon queen in mud-stained riding leathers, but that was not the impression Sansa intended to give her. She had entered Robb’s chambers before sunrise, sending Theon scrambling to cover himself until he realised it was her stalking towards Robb’s wardrobe, flinging it open to go through its contents without so much as a by-your-leave. Robb had accepted the clothes she had chosen with bleary, sleep-crusted eyes, dressing without complaint, thick wool shirt, doublet eschewing a gambeson, leather jerkin overtop. It was Theon, of course, who had noticed that they matched and almost undid all of Sansa’s work by eagerly trying to talk them both into bed with him.

red

from threyne sharing bodyheat au:

Why must everything in this godsforsaken wasteland be so cold? Theon’s chambers had never been the warmest, he only had a little hearth and he was bad at getting up in the middle of the night to feed his fire. When Theon managed to burrow out of his nest of blankets and furs to blink at his hearth, there weren’t even embers left. Sighing, he bundled himself into his thickest blanket, took a deep breath to steel himself against his bare feet hitting the cold floors and crept out of his bedchamber toward Robb’s. Robb the little lord had a nice, big hearth, and of course the perfect little lord also was perfect at banking his fire to last. He was also only too happy to share his bed. When Theon entered the bedchamber, there was only a big lump under the blanket and a tuft of red hair peeking out of visible. The blanket lifted at his approach, he was greeted with a mumbled jumble of words and soon he was enveloped in a nice, warm cave, and two slender arms wrapped around him.

no rose or legacy, I’m afraid.

tagging @gingersprites @selkiewife and whoever else would like to participate with the words

wolf | trust | dark | fire | sea

[subbykboys]

new to this | taeyong

↳ pairing : virgin!taeyong x reader

Genre ➞ pure smut oof

Warnings ➞ sub!taeyong, corruption kink, begging, mild degrading, handjob, fingering (m. receiving), public-ish(?), mild choking, running into walls

Word Count ➞ 8.3k

requested by @ninachocoo

posted ; 3.08.21

Hot. God, it was so hot. 

Then again, summer in your part of town always was. But this heat— this heat was different. It surrounded you, pulling perspiration from your pores and clinging to you persistently. It spilled down your throat, filling your lungs with every deep inhale. It robbed you of any and all of your energy, leaving you too tired to rouse yourself from where you lay on the cool tile floor of your kitchen in front of the open fridge (the absolute coldest spot you could find in your entire house). 

You didn’t cope very well in warm weather, if that wasn’t obvious. 

And, at the cost of your poor housemate’s sanity, you always found new and creative ways to cope with the excruciating rise in temperature, 

“Y/n a few of my— how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?!” You couldn’t bring yourself to so much as flinch as the fridge door was abruptly slammed shut, only managing to pull a whining complaint from the back of your throat as your only source of cool air was ever so rudely ripped away. 

“Fuck you, Mark. It’s too fucking hot to worry about the stupid electricity bill.” You huffed, peeling your eyes open just long enough to shoot an icy glare in the direction of the scowling brunette. 

He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, lower lip jutting out. “I think you forget that it’s a combination of both of our money going into paying them, so I think that I have a right to worry about how much is coming out of my pocket because you think that laying in front of an open fridge is a good way to ‘beat the heat’.” 

“Offer me a better solution, I’m open to suggestions.” You sighed tiredly. 

He only rolled his eyes. 

“Oh! I’ve got one,” you exclaimed suddenly, clapping your hands together as a gasp of excitement flew from your lips, “How about I just strip down and walk around butt ass naked? That should do the trick! Oh… but little Mark would like that a little too much, wouldn’t he?” You offered him a taunting pout, feigning sympathy as you glanced down unabashedly towards his crotch. 

Instinctively, his hands flew to cover himself as his cheeks throbbed a devastatingly obvious shade of red, bright enough to rival even the ripest of tomatoes. “Y–you—” 

Your lips curled with an amused smirk, but it faltered at the sound of thundering laughter coming from behind your flustered housemate. Your eyes followed the sound, finding its source in a group of about five or so men crowding up the foyer. Brows lifting in mild surprise, you shifted your attention back to an even more humiliated looking Mark. 

“You brought company.” An apology hung at the tip of your tongue. You really tried to keep your pg-13 teasing to a minimum around other people, especially knowing how susceptible Mark could be to his own embarrassment. 

“Hey Mark, I thought you said your roommate was a raging asshole with the sex drive of a teenaged boy on viagra? She seems pretty cool to me! And hot.” One of the taller boys chimed, a massive dopey grin plastered across his face. 

You turned to Mark slowly, brows raised. But he wouldn’t meet your eyes, head lowered. He wasn’t good at hiding his guilt. 

Welp. No apology for ole Marky boy today. 

“Please, allow me to properly introduce myself to our company.” Mark's eyebrows jumped all the way to his hairline as you pushed yourself off the floor and tossed an arm around his shoulder. “My name is (y/n), but I suppose Mark's asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra could work, too.” 

The look you shot him out of the corner of your eye had him shrinking in on himself, regret shining in his big brown eyes. But, you ruffled his hair, a silent reassurance that you weren’t all that torn up about the comment, especially considering it was hard to deny the layer of truth that lingered within it. 

You’d probably subjected Mark to more than his fair share of sleepless nights while you were up into the early morning giving the man (or woman) of the night the experience of a lifetime. A few scathing comments to close friends was more than understandable when looked upon in that light. Besides, you were never good at holding a grudge against your sweet, awkward, puppy-eyed housemate. 

The tall one that had spoken before chimed in eagerly, “I’m Yukhei, but my friends call me Lucas. Xuxi works, too. Or papi if you're feeling especially— ow!” Lucas yelped loudly as a hand connected to the back of a head with a sharp smack. You watched in amusement as another tall, charming looking man tugged him back, shooting him a warning glare before turning his attention to you. 

“Ignore him. He has a bad habit of forgetting his manners around attractive women. My name's Johnny, it’s great to finally meet you.” The sweet, disarming smile he offered you had any reservations melting away, and you easily returned the gesture before he proceeded with introductions. “This Haechan, Jaehyun, Doyoung, and— Taeyong?” 

Johnny pivoted around, brief confusion settling across his face before he spotted whoever he’d been looking for. Reaching behind Lucas, he grabbed someone's arm, tugging them into your line of sight. 

“And this is Taeyong!” He concluded with a grin, slapping a large hand down on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Taeyong dipped his head shyly, not meeting your eyes as he murmured a soft greeting that you were just barely able to catch. Soft tufts of dirty blonde hair fell over large brown eyes as he bowed politely, the air of meekness unmistakable. 

Oh, he’s cute. 

Your lips curled into an impish smirk. “Hi, Taeyong.” 

A faint blush darkened his cheeks and you caught a hint of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth. 

Really cute. 

Mark knew you well enough to see the gears beginning to turn in your head and coughed loudly when your stare lingered longer than necessary.

“O-kay, now that you’re all acquainted…” he stepped in swiftly, opting to intervene before you could get any wise ideas about his friend. “We have got a group project to work on and it would be extremely helpful if you’d refrain from providing any distractions. I already have a hard enough time trying to get them to focus for longer than five minutes as is.”

“Aww but I wanna hang out with your hot roommate, Mark.” Lucas whined loudly, practically throwing himself across Mark’s shoulders as the cutest pout you’ve probably ever seen fell across his lips. “She’s got a way nicer ass than any of you guys.” 

Doyoung sighed, his face screwing in second hand embarrassment for his friend’s shameless behavior. “Lucas, please.” 

“Have some dignity, man.” Haechan huffed additionally and you grinned in amusement as he grabbed the collar of Lucas’s shirt and began tugging him towards the living room. 

“Don’t worry, Mark. I’ll stay out of the way. I would hate to hinder your geek fest.” You teased, wrinkling your nose as you stepped past him. 

“Thank you, (y/n). I really— wait, Geek f– it’s a project worth thirty percent of our final grade!” 

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” You waved a dismissive hand over your shoulder, before pausing briefly. Spinning on your heels, you turned back to face 

the cute boy, who visibly jolted the moment your attention landed on him. “It was very nice meeting you, Taeyong.” 

“Y- you, too.” He stuttered sweetly and you had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach over and pinch those adorable pink cheeks. Either pair. 

With one last sultry smile, and a wink just to fuck with Mark a little, you sauntered back into your bedroom. Miraculously, you were no longer concerned with the previously unbearable heat plaguing your apartment. Now, you had something —or rather, someone— far more interesting to occupy your mind. 

Taeyong was having a difficult time focusing, which was pretty out of ordinary. He had barely gotten anything done with his assigned part of the project, less than half a page filled out with what little information he managed to collect. Luckily, none of the other guys seemed to notice, too distracted by their own inabilities to focus to take notice of his. Otherwise he would have to concoct some lie. But he wasn’t good at lying. He was a terrible liar, in fact. So he would probably just end up blurting out the truth which was you. You were the reason he couldn’t focus. You with your mischievous eyes and your pretty smile and intoxicating laugh. Mark’s asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra. 

He’d seen pictures of you before. But they didn’t do you any justice. In pictures, you were pretty. In real life, you were beautiful, charming, witty, sexy, and you winked at him. Girls don’t wink at him. Not ever. But you had. You’d winked and smiled at him and he wasn’t sure if you were just teasing him because he flustered easily or if there was a chance it meant something a little more than that. 

… he secretly hoped it meant something a little more than that. 

But he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He should be thinking about finishing his research. Not your eyes. Not your smile. Not your voice of the way you purred his name and those shivers rushed down his spine and he could have sworn something twitched— okay. That’s enough. He really needed to splash some water in his face, cool down a little before his mind wandered to places it definitely should not. 

“Ah— Mark?” 

The younger boy lifted his head, brows raising. “’Sup?” 

“Where’s the bathroom?” 

He perked, tipping his chin forward. “Oh, it’s to the right of the k— shit, wait. That toilet’s busted. Um, just use the one in my room. It’s at the end of the hall.” 

“Thanks,” Taeyong pushed himself up with a soft grunt, nearly tripping over Yukhei’s long legs as he maneuvered himself around the cluttered coffee table, “I’ll be right back.” 

None of the other guys took much notice of how quickly he rushed out of the room, much to Taeyong’s relief. He let out a low breath the moment he turned the corner and found himself in a vacant hallway, but that relief was short lived. 

Mark had only said that his room was at the end of the hall. But, there were two doors at the end of the hall. Meaning one of them could possibly lead to your room. And you were in your room. Which meant if he walked through the wrong door on accident… he could walk in on you. Oh god. Heat rushed into his cheeks at the mere thought of such a humiliating occurrence. For a moment, he debated turning on his heels and returning to the living room. 

But, he wasn’t ready to go back to studying just yet. He was still feeling flushed and antsy and needed another moment or two to himself. Plus… he was actually starting to need to pee a little. Damn him and his tiny bladder.

Hesitating, he gently knocked on the door on the right side of the hall then waited ten seconds. No response. Just to be extra certain, he knocked twice more before finally turning the knob. Cautiously, he peeked his head inside. The black out curtains were drawn tight so the room was dark, too dark to make out anything defining outside of the vague shape of a bed and dresser tucked into the far corner. It took a few minutes of stumbling blindly through the inky blackness, tripping over clothes and extension wires until he found what he hoped to be the bathroom door. 

Without too much of a second thought, he opened the door. 

Then he froze. 

He thought it was Mark’s room. He really did. He thought he was tripping over Mark’s clothes and Mark’s wires. Though, he probably should have noticed the light coming out from beneath the bathroom door, indicating that someone might be inside. Or maybe he did but ignored it because– because maybe Mark just left the light on. That could have happened. That totally could have happened. 

But it didn’t. 

Because it wasn’t Mark’s room. Those weren’t his clothes or his wires and he didn’t leave the light on. 

He realized this all too late of course. Because now he was staring at you. You who was wet and naked and… wet and naked. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only stare, dumbstruck, mind short circuiting as billowing steam curled around the shape of your body like an iridescent veil, beautiful skin glistening under the soft golden light. Your head was tipped back, lips slightly parted, hands soothing your slick hair out of your face as the hot water cascading down the swells of your 

breasts and over the curves of your shoulders.

It was like watching something out of a pornographic shampoo commercial. 

“Oh—” it was somewhere between a whine and gasp, strangled and broken by the time it escaped his trembling lips. It was so quiet, you shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the hiss of water. So it took him off guard when your eyes opened and flicked in his direction. 

He flinched, body jolting backwards like it intended to make a break for it, but it was like your stare locked him into place. His brain was screaming at him to do something; to move, to  turn away, close his eyes, apologize, bash his head against the freaking wall, literally anything but stand there staring at you with his mouth open like a complete idiot. But he couldn’t. 

The corner of your mouth curled, forming into a downright devilish smirk that sent hot tendrils of desire spiraling through his veins. Then you quirked a brow and it was like a burst of electricity bringing him back to life. His hands flew up from where they’d been frozen at his sides, slapping so hard over his eyes that he yelped in shock at the sting. 

“Ohmygod I- I am so sorry! I am so—” he whirled around, spewing high pitched apologies as he scrambled for the door. Only, his eyes were closed so instead of bolting out the door he face planted into the wall next to the door. “Ow!” 

Your low laughter rippled through the small bathroom and red hot embarrassment raced up his neck and into his face. He could only whimper out one finally strained apology as he clutched his throbbing nose and stumbled back into the darkness of your bedroom, slamming the door sharply behind him. 

By the time he’d managed to scramble back into the hall, Taeyong felt like he was on fire. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was certain if he dared to look in a mirror he’d be the equivalent of a tomato. 

Humiliation gripped at his throat, squeezing painfully around his airway every time he recalled the previous events. He’d never be able to face you again. Not after that train wreck. Not ever. Groaning distraughtly, he sank against the wall, silently wishing that the floor would just swallow him up and put an end to his suffering.

But, there was something worse than the embarrassment. Something hotter and harder, throbbing shamelessly in the confines of his suddenly far too jeans. He saw you naked— wet and naked, looking like a freaking goddess beneath the stream of hot water, soap suds still clinging to your skin. He had never seen a woman like that before. Not in person, at least. And none as beautiful as you. 

Biting his lip, he squeezed his legs together, trying his best to will away his progressively hardening erection. That, of course, did not work. And it didn’t help in the slightest that every time he so much as blinked, the image of you in the shower came rushing to the forefront of his mind, still fresh and vivid and devastating. 

Oh god. There was no was no way he could go back to working on the project now. If he thought he was being unproductive before— he probably wouldn’t be able to get a single legible word written with the image of you and your body burned into the back of his eyelids. 

He was doomed. 

And he still needed to pee. 

Damnit. 

It was about nine at night when the low voices transformed into booming laughter, the walls practically vibrating under the barrage of stomping feet. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that they’d finished up on their project— either that or they mutually reached the end of their attention spans. 

Regardless, you were bored of remaining cooped up in your bedroom merely for the sake of your roommate’s econ grade and needed to stretch your legs a bit. Not to mention you were beginning to crave something greasy and unhealthy. You were almost certain the group of college boys lounging in your living room wouldn’t be opposed to some pizza, fries, and milkshakes from your favorite delivery place. 

“I don’t know about you boys but I’m starving!” You sang brightly as you all but skipped into the room. All eyes swung to you, wide and stunned as they watched you waltz over to where Mark sat in the love seat and throw yourself into his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. He grunted under your weight, lip curling in annoyance but wrapped his arms securely around your stomach nonetheless. You pretended not to notice the lingering eyes of one particular boy, meticulously curled into the farthest corner of the couch. “Anyone down to order?” 

“Ugh please!” Yukhei exclaimed, throwing his head back dramatically. “I am dying of hunger.” 

The others were eager to voice their own agreement and you turned to Mark with an expectant smile. “Rubio’s?” He asked, already reaching for his phone. 

“Read my mind.” You hummed, pinching his cheek until he hissed and swatted you away. 

It was nothing short of chaos trying to get everyone’s orders, multiple overlapping voices making it hard to discern exactly who was asking for what, but somehow Mark managed to place all of the requests with only a handful of difficulties. Well, all but one. 

“Taeyong.” 

The boy’s head jerked up so fast at the sound of his name that you were surprised you hadn’t heard something crack. Up until then he’d been sitting quietly with his knees to his chest, staring at his feet, pointedly avoiding looking in your general direction. He could only hold your gaze for a few tense seconds before his cheeks flamed and he dropped his eyes. 

“I– uh– y- yes?” He coughed, blinking hard. 

You tilted your head, offering him an innocent smile. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding an unnecessarily suggestive pitch to the question, words dancing wickedly across your tongue. 

Taeyong swallowed and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. “I– I’ll just have some of the- the pizza.” The words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth and your grin only widened as he became more and more flustered under the heat of your persistent stare. 

“Perfect. Then we can share.” 

The poor boy nearly choked on air when you abruptly pushed yourself off of Mark and sauntered over to where he sat, squeezing in between him and an eager Yukhei, who was more than happy to make room for you. His entire body went rigid, brief panic shooting across his features as you made yourself comfortable. It was tight with Jaehyun, Lucas, Taeyong and now you all squished onto the couch, so you were practically flush against him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. You pretended not to notice that he was holding his breath. 

“Thirty minutes.” Mark announced, shutting off his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. 

“What should we do while we wait?” Jaehyun asked, ignoring Yukhei as he whined about how he’d be dead of starvation before the food even arrived. 

“Movie?” Haechan suggested. 

You perked. “I know a good one.” 

“No— no.” Mark cut in quickly, pointing a finger with the intention to reprimand in your direction. “Every time you pick a movie it’s either fucked up or really fucked up. So no.” 

“Don’t be a pussy, Mark.” You huffed, wrinkling your nose at him. “Just because you don’t like horror movies doesn’t mean your friends don’t.” 

“I, for one, love a good horror movie!” Yukhei remarked, a smug grin breaking across his lips as he shot a flirtatious wink in your direction. 

Haechan scoffed. “Bullshit! You couldn’t sleep alone for a week after we watched The Shining. And that wasn’t even scary!” 

“There was a tidal wave of blood.” He grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped, lower lip jutting out dramatically.

“No tidal wave of blood is this one, promise.” You snickered, snatching the remote from the cluttered coffee table and switching on the television. It only took a few minutes of browsing through Netflix before you finally located the movie you’d saved to your watch list a few weeks ago but had never gotten the chance to watch. 

Marked hopped up to flick off the lights as you pressed play, any excited or nervous murmurs coming to a halt as the opening credits rolled across the screen. Beside you, Taeyong tensed, squeezing his legs even tighter to his chest. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not missing the nervous way he gnawed at his lower lip even in the darkness. 

“Not good with horror movies?” You hummed, nudging his knee. He flinched in surprise, eyes shooting over to meet yours before he quickly diverted his attention back to the screen. 

“No, not– not really.” He admitted weakly, clearing his throat. 

A playful smirk twirled onto your lips and you subtly leaned into him, whispering near his ear, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” 

A fierce blush consumed his cheeks, illuminated by the soft grey light of the television. “I– I’ll be okay.” He coughed when his voice cracked and you chuckled under your breath, opting to cut the poor boy some slack… for now. 

The movie progressed with the usual eerie start before transitioning into something lighter, though the low hum of anticipation-building music never ceased. Even if at some point it became rather repetitive, you thoroughly enjoyed a good horror movie. Most of the time, they failed to meet expectations and you left feeling rather disappointed that your stomach hadn’t leapt into your throat any point throughout the film. However, every once in a while, you were pleasantly surprised. 

Now, was not one of those times. 

Boredom quickly settled over you as the plot developed, revealing itself to be almost identical to a number of horror movies you’d watched in the past. You slumped back in your seat, a subtle scowl staining your lips. But then… inspiration. Devious, unquestionably self indulgent inspiration that risked putting a certain someone in a possibly very awkward (but also very delightful) position. 

The slow slide of your eyes from the television over to the boy seated at your left revealed that not everyone found the movie to be boring and repetitive. Taeyong was practically trembling. He had both of his hands over his face, wide, uncertain eyes peeking out timidly from between his index and middle fingers. 

You had to sink your teeth into your lip in order to subdue the large grin threatening to break across your face. 

Fuck, he’s too adorable. 

Unable to resist, you allowed a curious hand to wander towards his leg. With a brush so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for a breeze, you traced a finger over the seam of his pants. But, with his senses on high alert, it wasn’t a sensation he missed. He jolted violently, head swinging in your direction. There was fear in his eyes, but it quickly melted into relief else once he realized it was you and not some demon. 

Then his eyes drifted to where your finger lingered, hovering over his clothed thigh, and the relief transformed into something else entirely. Something hot and shameful and desperate, something he tried to hide behind frantically fluttering eyelids and quivering lips. But it was unmistakable. 

You lifted your brows, a silent question swirling in your gaze. He swallowed, breath coming out in quick, shallow huffs as the unnameable emotion thickened inside of him, then he nudged his leg shyly towards you. The air you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs rushed out in one quick exhale, a subtle smirk curling onto your lips as excitement swirled in your gut. Taeyong sucked his lower lip into his mouth as your open palm landed boldly on his lower thigh, fingers pressing gently into the clothed muscle just above his knee. 

For a few minutes, it remained there, not moving any lower or any high, simply resting on his leg and he found himself relaxing beneath your touch. The heat of your hand was a welcome –comforting, even– distraction from the horror movie that had progressed to the point in the plot where the reckless characters put themselves directly into the line of danger instead of taking the intelligent path that would help them avoid it all together. You could feel the tension returning to Taeyong’s muscles as suspense building music poured from the surround sound speakers. 

In a two sided attempt to both comfort and tease, you began gently massaging his thigh. His breath audibly hitched, gaze straying from the screen once more in favor of watching the slow, deliberate motion of your fingers squeezing around his leg. That alone was enough to set his long neglected desire to flames. It burned within him, hot and dangerous, turning his face a dark, flattering crimson. 

It was too much. He’d never been touched like this before. You weren’t even close to his crotch and he could still feel the distinctive hardening beneath the zipper of his jeans which were growing tighter and tighter with every passing moment. At this rate, he’d make a mess of himself before the movie even reached its climax. 

The mere thought of coming untouched was enough to make his head feel dizzy, a mixture of humiliation and heady lust licking at his nerves. 

He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, in a room full of his friends no less. If one of them were to look over, even through darkness, it would be impossible to miss your hand laid across his lap or the feverish blush coating his face, illuminated by the dull light of the tv. 

Then, your hand shifted higher. It was a minute movement, couldn’t have been more than an inch or two. But it had his pulse spiking in his veins nonetheless, blood rushing downward. You gripped gently at the inside of his slim thigh, thumb tracing slow, calculated circles into the rough material of his jeans. He trembled beneath the teasing ministrations, jaw clenched to fight back the urge to moan as your curious touch wandered upwards once more. 

“Is this alright?” 

The question came unexpectedly, a sudden rush of warm breath hitting the curve of his throat. He sucked his lips into his mouth, shivering faintly at the low, rough sound of your voice, just quiet enough that none of the other men in the room could make it out. 

He offered a sharp, jerky nod, desperately heaving in deep breath through his nose. The corner of your mouth curled. 

“God you're shaking. Are you that sensitive? Or do you just get off on getting felt up in front of all your friends? How naughty.” You chuckled tauntingly, words borderline malicious. 

“I– I don’t— I’m not—” he swallowed, shaking his head frantically in denial of your words, despite the flames they ignited inside of him. 

“I think you are.” You purred, tracing your index finger lightly over his prominent bulge, eliciting a strangled moan from his trembling lips. He was fortunate enough that at the very moment the sound escaped, some ditzy bimbo began screaming her lungs out in the movie. Still, he slapped a hand over his offending lips, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard his slip up. Luckily enough, it seemed they hadn’t. 

This was payback, he realized abruptly, this was payback for walking in on you showering. 

But even if it was— 

It felt too damn good. 

His head tipped back, hand surging to cover his burning face and stifle his whimpers as you suddenly gripped firmly at his clothed length. A low, appreciative hum thrummed through your chest as you felt him twitch, delighting in just how responsive he was to your touch. His thighs squeezed together, hips shuddering upwards as you mapped him out. 

The urge to set your teeth upon his neck was almost overwhelming, but you resisted only because it might draw some attention from the room’s other, currently oblivious, occupants. You doubted Yukhei would miss it, even if he was desperately hiding his eyes behind those astoundingly massive hands. 

But shit was it tempting. 

His pretty porcelain skin would look so good painted in varying shades of pink and red. So sweet and pure… you wanted to taint him. 

He couldn’t stop moving now, squirming and quivering in place. He was unraveling right before your eyes, and you were devouring it. What a sight… 

Warmth stirred in your belly, and you rolled your palm down. He jolted violently, then in the next second he was up on his feet. It happened so quickly that you nearly fell over, just barely catching yourself from falling into the spot he previously occupied. Yukhei shrieked in shock, throwing himself directly into Jaehyun’s lap. 

“Fuck, Taeyong! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Haechan shrilled, clutching a pillow against his chest. Instead of responding, Taeyong jerked forward, the movement sharp and robotic, like his body wasn’t quite caught up to his brain. 

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asked, squinting at him through the darkness. “And why do you look so—” 

“B- B- Bathroom!” Taeyong squeaked out abruptly. You could only watch with wide eyes and gaping lips as he proceeded to run out of the living room like his ass was on fire. 

“Movie must’ve freaked him out.” Johnny muttered. 

“It’s not even that bad.” Yukhei scoffed in a voice too high pitched for his words to sound believable, grunting when Jaehyun shoved him off of his lap. Noisy banter was quick ensue. Noisy and distracting enough for you to make a quick and silent escape without catching any of the other boys’ attention. 

“Taeyong?” You called softly, worry churning in your gut that you overstepped or upset him. “Tae, I’m sorry if I—” you gasped, words cutting off in your throat as a hand found your wrist and you were quickly tugged around the corner and into the unlit hallway. 

The motion was so unexpected you ended up tripping over your own feet, having to slam a hand against the wall to steady yourself. But it was only when you felt a rush of quick, warm breath against your face that you realized the position you’d gotten yourself into. Taeyong was standing in front of you, face flushed a feverish shade of red, faint perspiration glistening on his skin, and he was standing with his spine flush against the wall, effectively caged in by your body. And he was looking at you. 

Really looking at you. 

With the kind of eyes that had something tightening deliciously in the pit of your stomach, chills of excitement ricocheting through your veins. 

“Tae?” His name was less than a breath on your lips, laced with an unspoken question. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, fluttering gaze dancing across your face. 

“I almost…” he swallowed, shivering voice tapering off as he became overwhelmed by the proximity. He could smell your shampoo, a subtle, smoky-vanilla kind of scent that made his head feel dizzy. “I almost c- came.” 

The corner of your mouth swirled, both amused and charmed by the way he whispered the word, tone so innocent and shy that the filthy meaning behind it almost became misconstrued in your head. 

“Do you want to come, Taeyong?” You asked quietly, jutting a knee forward to press between his thighs. He gasped, trembling lips silently caressing the shape of your name as his hands shot forward, clutching desperately onto the sides of your shirt. A shy nod was all he could muster, the words feeling far too dirty to say aloud. But you weren’t satisfied. 

“Say it.” You murmured, nose brushing against his. His breath hitched at the command, warmth flushing through his veins beneath the staggering heat of your dark, hooded gaze. “If you want it, say it. If you don’t, tell me now.” 

“I want it!” He said quickly, only to flush and shrink in on himself, taken aback by his own outburst. Licking his lips, he repeated himself in a much softer voice, “I– I want it.” 

You let out a low hum, curving a gentle hand around his jaw. “Can I kiss you?” 

A shock ran through his body, his wide eyes snapping down to trace to soft lines of your mouth. “Yes.” He breathed, suddenly desperate for a taste of your lips. You didn’t deny him. 

The first brush of your lips against his is light, delicate… teasing. It made his knees tremble, fierce anticipation and wild desire running rampant through him. He opened up for you like a goddamn flower in bloom, melting sweetly when you applied even the slightest bit more pressure. His mouth was soft and warm, his kiss shy. And there was something ever so endearing about the way he clutched at your top like it was the only thing keeping him upright. 

You kept the pace deliberately slow, relishing in the soft moans that fluttered from his chest as you sucked his lower lip into your mouth, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh. He was wracked by a violent full body shiver when you licked over the seam of his lip. 

God he’s adorable. 

His strong reactions made you wonder if he’d ever been kissed like this before. Or, perhaps, this was a new experience entirely. 

“Taeyong.” He whimpered when you abruptly broke away from the kiss, but you ignored it. “Are you a virgin?” 

His eyes widened, a deep red flooding his cheeks. Then, he nodded, gaze dropping to the floor as the tips of his ears darkened. 

Wicked excitement curled in your gut, heat licking at your veins at the thought of being the first to corrupt such a sweet… innocent… 

“Have you ever been touched before?” 

He shook his head, chest pressing against your with every jagged inhale he drew into his lungs. 

You dipped a hand between your bodies, trailing teasingly down his stomach. “Would you like to be touched?” Your voice had dropped at least an octave, a low, rasping whisper that nearly made him keen. 

“Yes.” A devious grin settled across your lips at the quickness of his reply. Didn’t even need to think that one over, huh? 

You slid your hand over his crotch, feeling his hips buck uncontrollably when you squeezed. “Just looking at you,” you began, toying with his zipper, “I never would’ve guessed what a little slut you are.” 

“I- I’m not a slut.” He whimpered, digging his fingers into your waist. 

“Aren’t you, though?” You popped the button of his jeans. “I mean, take a good look at yourself, Yongie; letting yourself get felt up and teased by your best friend’s roommate while they’re just in the next room over. Seems pretty slutty to me.” 

Taeyong couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his chest at the degrading word, his cock twitching within the confines of his boxers. Slipping a finger beneath the elastic, you tugged it away from his skin, letting out a playful coo when his weeping pink tip peeked out. The blush on his face intensified tenfold, both of his hands dropping down instinctively to cover himself. But you were faster, snatching his wrists and pinning them against the wall on either side of his head. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Shivering, he offered a compliant nod. 

“Good boy.” 

He barely had time to form a reaction to the praise before he felt you around him, stroking and caressing. The responding moan that burst from his lips was loud— too loud. You were quick to cover his gaping mouth, successfully muffling the series of succeeding gasps and whimpers. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” you clicked your tongue, watching the way his eyes fluttered and rolled as you tightened your grip around his cock, “you wouldn’t want your hyungs to find out what a little slut you’re being, now would you? Mark was so kind, inviting you into his home… How do you think he’d feel if he were to see you taking advantage of his hospitality, getting your pretty little cock played with by his roommate? How shameless...” 

Taeyong whimpered, and you felt the gentle press of his lips against your palm, followed by a meek flick of his tongue. He was looking at you now, really looking at you, with the kind of pathetic, wanting eyes that never failed to make your skin burn in excitement. You wondered if you could make him cry, overwhelm him with pleasure to the point where he couldn’t keep his emotions at bay. The desire to ruin him was almost unbearable. 

Swirling your thumb over his tip, you slotted a leg between his, pressing up against him from underneath. He nearly keened at the pressure, hips rolling greedily over your thigh, simultaneously pumping his cock into your closed fist. Heaven, this must be heaven. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to succumb to his desires so readily, with such… enthusiasm. But this Taeyong surprised you at every turn. You’d thought he’d be shy, reserved, hesitant to give in, but here he was, riding your thigh and fucking your hand like his life depended on it, his muffled moans pulsing beneath your palm. 

It’d be a flat out lie to say you weren’t beyond turned on. 

There was a slick warmth building between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of your underwear, and tight knots in your stomach, threatening to burst at any given moment. The knowledge that less than thirty feet away, your roommate and all his friends were gathered and one stray moan from the crumbling man before you could give away all the filthy things you were doing to him stroked the lustful flames blazing through your blood. One glimpse into those hooded, glassy brown eyes told you he was suffering from a similar burn. 

“Turn around.” You demanded, somewhat breathless as you tore your hands off of him. A low whimper escaped past trembling lips at the loss of stimulation, a shiver rippling down his spine as his hard, abandoned cock swung through empty air. Regardless, he was quick to comply, spinning himself around and pressing his palms flat against the wall. You hummed a praise, pleased with his eager compliance, rewarding him with your touch. He gasped, forced to sink his teeth into his lip to stifle his whimpers as your hands slipped over his body: one returning to stroke his dick while the other pushed beneath the material of his top, venturing up to his chest where your fingers set to toying with his sensitive nipples. 

“(y/n)—” he moaned your name desperately, rocking his body back against yours as overwhelming pleasure pulsed through his veins. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” you chuckled darkly, splaying a steadying palm across his hips as they began grinding back into yours, “you sound like you're about to burst.” 

He moaned, shuddering when you caressed his sensitive tip, and an idea struck you. 

“Can you do something for me, Tae?” You asked, voice a low, rasping against the shell of his ear. “Can you suck?” 

Any short lived confusion dissipated from his mind when he felt your fingers nudging at the soft flesh of his lips. A deep blush flooded into his cheeks, but his mouth opened nonetheless, shyly taking your digits inside. 

“There you go…” you purred, feeling his tongue lick delicately at the pads of your middle and ring finger. He sucked, and you lowered your head to press slow, encouraging kisses laced with whispered praises to the juncture of his throat. You felt the soft vibrations of his muffled moans quivering through your knuckles and against your lips. He was shaking, the stimulation to his cock causing violent tremors to wrack his body. He wasn’t far off from release, you could tell as much by the way he was twitching and the slow increase in volume of his sounds. 

But you weren’t finished yet. 

Not by a long shot. 

You pulled your fingers from his mouth, the suction of his lips giving with a lewd, wet pop. A filthy sound coming from such innocent lips. 

Leaning forward, you nipped gently at the shell of his red tinted ear, hand releasing his dick in favor of venturing beneath the hem of his pants. You heard his breath hitched and offered quietly, “Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

Taeyong nodded in understanding, but offered no resistance as you pushed the thick denim down over the soft curve of his ass. His shoulders jumped, a gasp shooting from his lips when you slid a saliva soaked finger between his cheeks, coming to the abrupt realization of what your intentions were. 

“O– oh—” 

“Is this alright?” 

He swallowed, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “I– I’ve never…” 

You soothed a hand down the front of his thigh, “it’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

There was no judgement in your tone, rather a gentleness to the reassurance that put his buzzing nerves at ease. “That’s not it,” he shook his head, gnawing at the corner of his lip as a soft pink crept across his cheeks, “j– just…” 

“Just?” 

Taeyong drew in a deep, trembling breath. Your furrowed brows shot to your hairline, heat twisting in your gut as he suddenly bent himself over, sticking his ass out, practically fucking presenting himself to you. “B- be gentle…” he whispered shyly, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. 

Steam would surely start coming out of your nose if your temperature rose any further. This is fucking ridiculous. How was it possible for a man to be so cute yet so sexy all at once? This couldn’t be good for your health… 

Smirking deviously, you settled a palm between his shoulder blades, pressing down ever so slightly and watching as he delicately arched his spine. “I’m always gentle.” 

A hiccuping moan rushed from his chest at the first careful press of your finger, his brows furrowing deeply as his muscles tightened in response to the foreign stretch. 

“Relax, sweetheart.” You reminded lightly, settling soothing kisses across his shoulder. He drew in a series of deep breaths, allowing himself to adjust to the sensation of having something inside of him while melting into the tender caress of your cool lips across his feverish skin. You felt the slow dissipation of tension, felt the way he melted beneath you. “There you go…” you cooed, easing into him until your knuckle before allowing him a few moments to adjust. 

He was panting, forehead thudding softly against the wall as his hips trembled, a strange but not unpleasant feeling sparking to life inside of him. 

“Oh…” it was a barely audible sound, soft and breathless of shuddering lips. But you didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the way his shoulders drooped, his walls tight relaxing ever so faintly around the intruding digit. The corner of your mouth curled upwards in a salacious smirk, and you curled your finger experimentally. 

His reaction was instantaneous, a moan of surprise entwined with unexpected pleasure rushing from his flush throat. He glanced back at you from over his shoulder, eyes wide and trembling, hazy with an emotion you immediately recognized as pure, unfiltered lust. Your grin widened, almost triumphant as you whispered, “feel that?” 

He nodded rapidly, a gasp of breath wracking his chest. “Yes,” his hands were curling into fists where they were braced against the plaster wall. 

“Wanna feel it again?” 

The sound he let out was a combination of several things, keening and desperate for the sensation he’d never before experienced. “Please. Please.” 

It was impossible to say anything but yes when he begged like that. 

You rewarded him by stretching him out around a second finger, his knees nearly giving out when you thrust them in as deep as they would go. He was an absolute mess, forced to slap a quivering hand over his gaping mouth when his teeth proved insufficient at keeping his sounds in. You were enjoying yourself perhaps a little too much, enjoying watching him slowly crumble, enjoying watching his innocence shatter into tiny irreparable pieces on the floor beside glistening drops of precum. He was just too irresistible… 

“You’re about to come, aren’t you?” He was nodding before you even finished the question, muffled moans and sobs escaping through his fingers as he fucked himself back onto yours. You curve a hand around the shape of his jaw, tugging his head back at an angle that surely causes a strain in his neck, and slot your lips into his. Shoving your tongue down his throat proves a far more efficient means of keeping him quiet. 

But when you curled your fingers inside of him, subsequently stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, even your mouth wasn’t enough to stifle the shriek of pleasure that burst from his throat. You were hoping the screams you heard emulating from the other room were enough to drown it out. 

“Keep your voice down.” You all but snarled, curling a hand around his throat. 

“I- I can’t— oh god, it feels so g- good.” He babbled, voice strained from the sheer effort of trying to keep himself from crying out in bliss. “I’m g- gonna come— I’m gonna c- come—” the sound of him choking on his words, gasping for breath around the added resistance of your restricting hold was even hotter than you imagined it would be. 

“Gone on, sweetheart. Let me see you make a mess of yourself.” You kissed the shell of his ear, deciding then to have mercy and offer his pathetic, weeping cock a helping hand. He was finished the moment your fingers grazed his tip, struck with an orgasm so powerful it had his knees buckling beneath the weight of his quivering body. 

His jaw when slack, unleashing every pent up sound he’d managed to keep bottled up thus far. They came rushing out of him too quickly to stop, not that you made much of an effort. You were enjoying the way he was moaning your name like it was his saving grace far too much to care whether or not the other boys were hearing. In fact, the thought of them hearing their sweet, innocent Taeyong whimpering like a bitch in heat, moaning your name, gave you an unexpected rush of delight. 

You didn’t stop fucking your fingers into his tight little hole until you were certain you’d milked him for all he was worth, until he was reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess against your chest, barely able to keep himself upright. 

“Oh my g- god.” He murmured shakily, head falling back to rest on your shoulder. 

A low chuckle slid from your lips as you gently released his spent cock, simultaneously pulling out of him. He winced faintly, whining weakly at the unpleasant emptiness that ensued. 

“That felt pretty good didn’t it?” You teased. 

He bit his lip, humming airily as he melted into your hold. 

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Taeyong?” Your words danced over the curve of his throat, flooding his senses with the fluttering implication. Blushing, he nodded, a shy bob of his head that caused the sweat soaked fringes of his bangs to fall over his eyes, clinging delicately to his pretty eyelashes. “Words?” 

“I—” he swallowed, gaze flitting as his face reddened further, “I’m a g- good boy.” 

You mouth curled deviously. Holding your come covered hand up to his panting mouth, you whispered against the shell of his ear, “good boys clean up their mess.” 

His breath hitched, wide eyes jumping over to meet yours. You held his gaze boldly, cocking an expectant brow. Then, ever so lightly, his tongue dipped out from between red bitten lips, kitten licking his come from your fingertips. You could’ve come right then and there, watching him shyly lap his own release from your hand. Honestly you would’ve been happy to stay like that all night, his tongue tracing the lines of your palm, caressing your knuckles… 

But then the doorbell rang, and someone cleared their throat in the other room. 

“Uh… foods here.” 

Taeyong leapt away from you with a gasp, flushing deeply as his hands flew to tuck himself back into his jeans. 

“D- do you think they—” his voice cracked and he coughed as crimson crept up his neck. 

You smirked, not in the least bit ashamed. 

“Oh, definitely.”

A/N; well i dropped off the face of the earth, sorry about that loves. but i think you’ll be happy to know that i have a number of wip sitting in drafts, should i tease the banners? 

[autumnalsteahouse]

hello I’m seeing soft and insecure bakugou all over my dash and you know what? Lemme just— make you guys feel absolutely terrible.

tw. HEAVY angst. uh blood. no happy ending. main character death.

so what if you and bakugou are hitmen. typically hitmen do work solo but you guys don’t go after just anyone- you go after the most sought out people; the worlds most important. the ones people only fantasize about killing because what’s needed is immaculate precision and the skill of being able to vanish from thin air without a hint or a trace— and most people can’t do that. but you can, and so does bakugou.

of course, when your partnership was proposed by the higher ups, it was an absolute shit show. there was huffing and fussing; the same argument was yelled out, “but i don’t need a partner, i’m best on my own! ”

ultimately, all those cries fell short. a curt, “suck it up or else.” was spat in your guys’ faces before it was set in stone. neither of you breathed another word about it until your first job (aside from angry grumbles your new tufted out blonde partner.)

teamwork was hard when it came to bakugou katsuki. yes, of course you’d heard of him before- he was an absolute show stopper. his assassinations were so clean and quick, it was almost an art form. you weren’t too bad yourself; with elaborate planning and lots of fun toys, you liked to rank how much they would suffer based on how terrible of a person they were in their life. similar to a vigilante of sorts, giving the bad guys what they deserve… but attempting to explain that to bakugou was frustrating. it has caused a lot of arguments which led to retaliation, which then let to causing a scene when a hit was in process— a line that should never be crossed in your line of work. you big had fucked up.

it had been a couple of jobs since you were assigned to each other and whosever fault it was didn’t matter now; staring down the thin barrel of a gun, tied down and vulnerable, you couldn’t do anything. bakugou was sitting in the exact same situation.

you knew it had been a bad idea; there were unnecessary things that were spat out and emotions ran high. maybe you were tired from being with him so much, maybe his temper triggered yours… maybe you should have listened to your gut. it has felt off that day, but you brushed it aside because he had been so certain- “one and done,” he’d said. “i don’t event know why you’re here with me. this is fuckin stupid. i don’t need a babysitter.” granted, it did feel like a simple task but, there was a reason they assigned you two for this job. “there were no signs of secretive protection! we were doing what we normally do.” yeah, bickering and biting, unaware of the chance that there was hitmen for a hitman lurking about.

luckily, you two were the best of the best and managed to get yourself out of a sticky and red situation rather quick. unfortunately, it was a sloppy job. with your line of work, there could be no sloppy jobs.

the thigh. they had timely shot you both in the thigh as punishment in addition to a leave of absence to “heal”; or in other words, sort your shit out before the next bullet will be shot directly between your eyes, clean and precise, unlike your last job.

the unexpected happened during your healing. the need to be around bakugou was increasing; you thought about him all the time. how he was fairing during his leave of absence, how his body was doing, how his big hands securely held a gun, his wicked smile when he landed the killshot, his demanding voice, the way he looked at you right after you both had been shot, the face he made as he watched you whimper in pain.

he was inescapable.

but you knew you were really screwed when he showed up to your door, merely a week after the punishment.

his eyes looked tormented as they shot up to meet your gaze, suddenly softening at the sight of you. his frame eased up and you could practically see relief wash over him.

“bakugou-“

“i had a bad feeling.” he’d interrupted, “i needed to make sure you were okay.”

his concern made your heart ache, his normal tone now raspy and thick with something nearly too deep to comprehend. this was so unlike what you were used to seeing; what was happening?

you invited him inside and made a space where he could be vulnerable- and he took it. he told you things you didn’t think he would. unfathomable things. how he ended up where he did and why he did things the way he did things.

he had a partner before.

as soon as he said that, your heart sank down before hearing the rest of his story. soon your throat felt a bit too tight, it was hard to breathe.

his partner was good, dangerously good. they defied odds and always did a perfect job; you could hear the admiration dripping from bakugou’s voice. the way he talked about them was so far away though, and when you found out why, you felt the tears prick your waterline.

when his voice cracked as he explained that his partner had been a little too good at what they were doing, the higher ups felt threatened.

you knew what that meant.

bakugou katsuki had watched a bullet go through his partner’s heart.

it was quick, happening all at once. as he spoke, you could only look at the floor. you knew he was crying- hell, you were too, but katsuki deserved privacy for that moment and you were going to respect that.

“i just- needed to make sure you were okay.” there was an underlying tone in his voice again, you couldn’t quite place it, but the urge to invite him to stay was too great.

he accepted with a quiet nod.

two weeks, he ended up staying. most of the time it was a comfortable quiet- just being with you put him at ease; knowing he could be there for you and protect you helped him. you never brought up that you could handle yourself; you are a trained killer after all, but something told you that wouldn’t have done anything but spark an argument, so you kept your mouth closed as he did the most mundane things.

he cooked, he cleaned, he never strayed too far- he insisted. there was no room to fight him about it, all you could do was sigh and nod, realizing that this is how he’s trying to cope with his fear.

in the time you two spent together, you inevitably got closer- so close that it began to feel weird if you guys didn’t sleep in the same bed, much less the same room.

nothing extraordinary happened when it started, all you knew was that it calmed his nerves.

you were so compliant, strangely no argument on the tip of your tongue- ever. part of you thinks that the vulnerability he presented was too much for you to mentally digest, so it was better for you if you just allowed it. the other part of you just… didn’t want him to leave.

that was solidified one night when he took you against his warm chest and kissed your forehead.

you were supposed to be asleep; you’d adjusted a little when you felt bakugou’s arm wrap around you and you just let him tug you closer.

you were hoping he couldn’t feel your heart pounding, but something was telling you he was simply ignoring it.

the day after that happened, both of your phones chimed simultaneously mid morning, the notification saying that you two were allowed to get back in the field- regardless if you leg was fully healed or not.

it was a sinking feeling to say the least; the glances got both shared made your chest heavy. you’d gotten comfortable with being domestic.

later that night you murmured, “it felt attainable. just living, you and me. regular jobs. we could simply just be together.”

as the words left your mouth, you could feel yourself sinking into a dark place. maybe in another life-

“it is attainable. we just- have to become.. invisible.”

you looked at him, brows furrowed. “how do you expect we pull that off? we’d be up against the higher-ups!” you whispered.

“listen- let me figure that out. i’ll sort it out, i know a few people who owe me a pretty penny. we could do it- if you… would like.”

your chest was heavy, shallow breaths as everything ran through your mind. too many things, it was overwhelming- it was dangerous. you were trying to focus, but it was too hard with just so much to process-

“no one’s gonna harm you, not while I’m around.”

it suddenly became quiet, all of his past behaviors now verbalized. his sentence hung in the air as you looked at him.

“katsuki…”

he looked at you with so much emotion built up in those red irises, his body stiff as he whispered, “will you have me?”

too many meanings and so little time, but as you stepped over to him, it felt like time was moving slowly until you were actually in front of him. hands suddenly became too feverish and touches never felt like enough when your lips met his.

at first it was soft, a small peck to start- to realize what you two had been holding back on. everything afterwards felt like a sugar rush- in the best way.

as you two laid in bed that night, skin against skin and soft sheets, bakugou felt like he was almost on cloud nine.

almost.

part of him couldn’t say he was surprised. no. he was cursed. he couldn’t have good things- he thought as he held your body close, blood gushing onto his lap.

he cried out in agony as the whole thing replayed in his head, thinking of what he could have done to prevent this.

he should have never fallen asleep. he should have kept his guard up.

he had you. you were there, lying right next to him. the last thing he saw was how content you looked as you slept, the idea of a bright future in your minds eye. he had gone to sleep with a smile; he saw that future too. now all he could see was your blood on his hands as he tried to apply pressure to your chest with no avail, your body looking sickly pale.

it was a clean and precise shot, straight through your heart.

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Help wanted

Summery: Boarding house with the occasional unwanted tenant.

Note: I don’t think Arvin is dark in this, but it might be for other people.

Warning: non-con/dub con, dark theme, choking, slight spanking, cream pie

Grey Arvin Russell x Reader; Dark Lee Bodecker x Reader

🛎

The bell rung on the door of your boarding house. Drying your hands with a dish rag you got yourself ready to meet whoever it was coming through the door. When you crossed through the archway you were shocked still.

He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his clothes looked all greased up, the hat that hid a thick tuft of hair peaked out looked like it had seen better days.

His type weren't known for being on this side of town so you figured he was either new to town or looking for someone.

You welcomed him with a soft smile and gave your name.

"How can I help you today sir?"

"Hello Ma'am." He said politely, tipping his hat slightly at you. His thick country twang confirming the former. "I saw the help wanted sign out side. Y'all still hiring?"

"Um..Y-yeah... I need a handy man, job includes free room, and board, but I won't just hire anybody though. There is a washer in the basement, if you fix one of them the jobs yours."

🛎

Waddling to the basement with your Daddy's old toolbox, the heavy rusty thing knocked at your knees each step. He jogged over to you, taking the kit from your grasp and you thank him for it.

"The left one broke down a month ago and the other I'm guessing couldn't handle the over use. Dryers work just fine though."

Before he could reply you heard the door bell ring again. You excused yourself and left him to work.

"I'm coming, just a minute!" You shout down the hall as you hurried.

🛎

"Sorry it took so long."

"Saul right Ma'am" he said rising from the floor. You watched from the door as he twisted a dial. The hum of the machine filled the growing awkward silence.

"Well aren't you something! I guess that means your hired."

He lifted his hat to smooth back stray strands of hair, his shy smile hid as he looked down to the floor.

🛎

"Your room's on the third floor. Has a bed and a little sitting place. It's really small just enough room to lay your head really." The sound of foot-steps coming down the stairs halted you. Your eyes watch their back disappear into the night, until he cleared his throat bringing your attention back.

"That'll do just fine Ma'am." Something about his southern accent made your heart flutter. He picked up his duffel, throwing the strap over his shoulder as you dug out your ledger.

"Just down there is the supper table. I cook breakfast and dinner. You can eat in your room if you like, a lot of them do."  You explained as you watch him sign the book. Arvin Russell it read.

He adjusted his strap as you talked, his deep brown eyes made it hard for you to keep his gaze, making you fidget nervously in place. "Most folks are gone during the day so I don't make lunch, but if you like no problem just give me a holler. Bath rooms are at the end of each hall."

Digging in your desk you find the master keys and a list of things that needed to be fixed. His fingers grazed yours lightly in the transfer, Arvin's touch sent a ripple of heat up to your face. He flipped through the wrinkled papers, scanning over the chores with a wrinkled brow.

"S-sorry to put so much on you, but when my daddy got sick things got out of hand and I never been one for fixing things."

"No problem Ma'am."

🛎

During the day you kept busy. Scrubbing windows and mopping the halls of each floor. Arvin crossed paths with you on occasion. Gently brushing past you with his tools as he headed to his next assignment.

The door to Odis', one of the tents, room was left wide open when you walked by. Curious you glanced in, catching sight of Arvin lifting his shirt. Your legs stop moving as you watched him wipe away beads of sweat from his brow with the hem. You couldn't stop yourself from ogling his well toned exposed stomach.

The clanking of the dust pan hitting the floor caught his attention. Your face burn with embarrassment when he found you standing outside the room. Panicked you quickly picked up the pan and rushed off to the ground floor.

🛎

You heard Arvin call your name. "Yeah?" You replied weakly still embarrassed.

*Relax he isn't thinking about you. Probably just thinks your a clumsy dits.

He came halfway down the stairs, looking down at you from the banister. "You got a minute? I need a little help" he asked politely.

"Oh sure... Uh sure" you reply looking up at him. Arvin abandoned his cap, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, curling from sweat. More sweat pooled on his shirt, the dampness helped stick the fabric to his lean figure.

Following him up the stairs he led you to a room on the third floor. In the corner of the room there was a large metal pipe leaning against the wall.

You watched as Arvin lifted the heavy pipe, angling it vertically in position.

"Can you hold this?" he called over his shoulder.

Walking over you grabbed it and Arvin moved to get behind you. He took your hands and placed them along the pipe as you steadied yourself to hold it still while it slightly wobbled.

"OK hold still just like that." He bent over beside you, digging into the tool box that rested on the floor. When he rose, Arvin stayed close behind you. You could feel the heat coming off him, he smelled like sweat and after shave. Your hands felt sweaty as you felt rattled a bit by his closeness.

The pipe shifted a bit, you tried nudging it slightly, but couldn't get it back in place.

"Stay steady" his breath tickled your ear, you gasped making him chuckle lightly. "Just like that" he moved the pipe back into place, pushing into your butt when he stepped closer. "Just hold right... here." He placed a hand on your hip and you tensed. His fingers lightly squeezed your softness. You had to fight hard to bring your mind out of the gutter, he just needed your help, nothing more, the spot between your thighs thought otherwise.

With his arms raised above you, Arvin tightened the nuts to secure the metal tube. You swallowed thickly when you heard him grunt as he forced the wrench to move. Looking over to your right you spied his exposed arms. His muscle flexing as he moved.

"Almost done" he said to you, pushing you almost flush to the steel, bumping you gently with each twist of the wrench. You only nod, unable to conjure words to speak properly. Through the cheap fabric of your dress you felt something hard poke at you through his jeans.

*Stomp it now get your mind out of the gutter.

You don't know what had gotten into you lately. First staring at him like a creeper now thinking about his manhood. Maybe its about time you started going back to church you thought to yourself. Cause right now it felt like the devil was leading you to temptation.

When Arvin stepped back you had to choke down a whimper from the loss of his feel. Pressing your lips together you prayed he aint hear you.

Tapping a hand on your shoulder you turn to look at him. "All done." He smiled at you, your hands release the pipe and you backed away.

"Thanks Ma'am."

"You're welcome Arvin" You smiled shyly then rushed off back to your desk.

🛎

No matter how hard your days were the nights were by far the worst. Lying in bed you felt the mattress dip. The fear of the impending figure behind you prickled your skin.

Your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you tried to force yourself to sleep. Holding your breath in a dumb attempt to force yourself to pass out. The blanket covering you pulled away and you felt water fall from your closed eyes.

🛎

Propping your head on your hands you leaned on your desk. Your eyes drooped as you zoned out, looking into space.

"You alright Ma'am?" Arvin startled you as he walked down the stairs.

"I couldn't sleep." You stand up and stretch, yawning a bit. He walked closer to your desk, dressed in his work pants shirt.

"Try some warm milk. Used to help me." He passed by your desk, walking down the hall with tool kit in had to the washers. The old machines acting up again since last time he fixed them.

"Oh Arvin" you shouted at him before he passed through the door. "Um.. can I add something to your list. No worries if you can't get it done today, but I would much appreciate it if you could."

Placing the box down by the laundry door he walked back over, digging the sheet from his back pocket. You grabbed a pen hopeful it was a task he wouldn't mind sorting right away.

"If you can't fix the lock today no problem. I will just go sleep in the attic." You spoke casually as he slipped you the paper to write on. He read over your assignment and you watched as his lips made a hard line.

"I locked myself out of my room, didn't want to wake you to get the spare, sorry. Now I done made more work for you" you laughed, but their was no humor in it. His features softened and you hoped he wouldn't press the issue.

Pushing the paper back to him, you bid him a due and turn to face away to pretend to make a call. When you heard him walk away you let out a breath.

🛎

Arvin was a saint among men. You don't know where he found the money, but he added a chain lock to your door. You smiled at the shiny gold. Sliding on the chain and the bottom lock you prepared for bed.

Laying in bed the thought of the extra lock helped sooth your nerve as you slipped into sleep.

You felt an uncomfortable lump at your back rousing you awake. Your eyes shot open and a hand covered your mouth before you could scream out.

"You think your smart, putting that chain on that door" the beer on his breath hit your nose. Your tears soaked his hand as he held you.

You shake your head 'no' repeatedly in reply. He was still dressed in his work clothes as he laid next to you. The sound of his belt jingling made the tears fall harder.

"I told your daddy I would look out for you. How am I gonna do that if you lock the door?"

Lee, a local cop, only came around when his wife was either on the mends or she just flat out kicked him out. Your father had offered the man a free bed whenever he needed. His way of thanking him for keeping the neighborhood safe.

Lee pushed up your night gown and tsked when he felt your panties. The hand on your mouth slipped down your neck and you blubbered out your apologizes. He hated panties, too much work he called it. "What I told you about these?" he grumbled, forcing the fabric down.

"I-i'm sorry I thought my monthlies were coming on." You sniffed. You tried hard not to cry, you just hopped he would squeeze hard enough to make you pass out.

You heard him spit in his hand, he bumped into your back as he lubed himself up. You yelped when he smacked your ass hard, the sudden sting of pain loosening your locked legs.

"Yea you said that last week. I aint forget girl." He shoved himself inside after he found your opening. "Fucking bitch. I run the house gawd damn it!" Lee was mad at his wife agin. What ever his spite with her, you were paying for it. "Not gonna tell me what to do. Fucking bitch." He growled, panting heavily as he pumped.

You jolted with each thrust, no matter how many times Lee did it, it never got easier.

"Please." You panted desperately. "Please don't come in me" you choked out, his hand tightening his grip around your throat. You had been lucky so far, but you knew it was only a matter of time before your luck ran out.

Lee didn't like back talk, this was his show and you were just here for the ride. Pushing you completely flat you grip the fabric of the sheets. Lifting your ass as he rose to his knees he fucked into you harder. You cried out unable to adjust to his lengthen. He chuckled darkly at your pain, slamming into you repeatedly with a punishing rhythm.

He cursed your name. Reminded you of your place as he came deep in you. His seed filling your cunt as you pressed your head into the mattress and cried.

He slipped out of the bed. His pants once again jingling as he fixed himself up and headed out the door.

🛎

It was that time of the month again.

Whenever he shouted he spit. It was disgusting. You had given him chance after chance, but he used them all. "I'm sorry Tommy if you don't have the rent by Thursday you are going to have to leave."

"Fuck you bitch you let that boy stay here rent free!"  He shouted. Trying to make sure tent knew.

"He works here. He earns he keep."

"Then let me earn mine? or give me another week." He barked. His tone more of a demand than a request.

Sighing you hung your head low. Rubbing your temple with one hand you hugged your stomach with the other. First of the month was the worst. Tents ducked and dodged. Begged and pleaded or straight up demand just to not pay rent.

"Next Friday Tommy... That's the last time you hear me." You try to sound strong, but you knew he didn't give a shit as long as he won. "If you aint got it then, then I'm changing the locks and putting your stuff on the street."

He slammed his door in your face and you turned on your heels headed to the next delinquent.

"You alright Ma'am?" Straight ahead, Arvin poked out from the bathroom. You had to fight yourself from looking down at his lower half. In your peripheral you could see he was just in a towel that hung around his waist.

His wet hair seemed to curl under the towel on his head. Strands sticking to his forehead, his face still damp from the shower.

"Umm yeah. Uh just rents due and folks get a little uppity around this time of the month." You dry chuckle turning your eyes up at the ceiling. Fighting yourself from venturing further.

You couldn't tell if it was the steam that came from the bathroom or you. Whenever he was close, your body would react. The heat would turn up making you sweat.

"Well alright then. You have a good night Ma'am."

🛎

*Bang Bang Bang

"Tommy!" You bang again. "Tommy! I will give you to the count of three. If you don't open this door and pay up. I am coming in and kicking you out!" You huffed tapping a foot.

"Ma'am?"

"Morning Arvin. Sorry did I wake you?"

"No was working down the hall."

"Tommy, skipped out on rent I think." Taking a deep breath you lifted your master key ring and unlocked the door. When you peered inside the room was a mess, no sign of Tommy.

Arvin followed you in side, with a hand on your hip you groaned. The amount of clean up you would have to do to ready it for a new tenant would take all day.

"Arvin can you change the lock on the door. I hate doing this, but I gotta kick him out"

"Sure thing ma'am"

As you turn to leave you over at Arvin who was still assessing the damage to the room. "Oh and can you possibly stay close. If he comes around I might need your help."

Arvin only nodded in response as you took your leave.

🛎

Tommy didn't come back that day or the next. Putting up a sign you thought that you could clean up the room a bit, before the weekend. With the storm you figured not to many people would be coming around anyway.

Taking up a few boxes you get to tossing. One box you would keep in the addict. Somethings were just to hard to throw away sometimes, but a good chunk would go.

Thunder bashed down filling the room with a blinding white light. You yelped loudly bringing the sound of feet rushing down your way.

"You alright Ma'am?" Arvin looked in the room worried.

"Sorry Arvin, it’s just the storm. Lightening makes me a bit skittish sorry." You apologize as you get back to clearing the room.

"Well I am finished with my list for today, would you mind if I trouble you for some company?"

"U-um sure" you tried to fight off the smile.

His lips curled as he walked in the room. The instant he crossed the door frame you heard shouting coming from down stairs. When the voice made itself more clear you frowned.

"Oh uh sorry.. I need to tend to that" you say softly. With your head low you walked past him.

🛎

Lee was wet and agitated. "Fucking bitch had the nerve to accuse me of drinking again." He spat while you sat waiting on the bed. "I aint touch a drop today" he said smugly.

You looked at your feet as he undressed in front of you. The sound of a siren blared loudly from out side, Lee turned and squinted at the sound. "Shit!" He stopped undressing and ran out.

Getting up from the bed you grabbed your robe and peered out the hall. The front door was open and Lee wasn't there. The rain still coming down hard, blew in through the open door so you walked bare foot to close it and see if he had really gone. His car was gone that was for sure and as you looked into the rain it seemed he had disappeared too. You exhaled in relief, backed away and closed the entrance.

"Ma'am?" Arvin called to you out of breath.

"Shit!" You gasped, turning to face him. Your heart bashed in your chest as you stared at him crazily. He was soaked to the bone. "Your gonna catch a cold walking around like that" you scolded tightening your robe.

"Do you have any clean towels?" You asked, but you turn back to look at the door. Hoping that Lee wouldn't suddenly comeback.

"I think so.. I know I need to do laundry, not too good at it so I've been holding it off."

"Well, I don't normally do this, but if you like I can mix yours with mine. I don't have enough clothes to justify using all that water anyway."you shrugged.

"I don't want to put you out" he stepped closer to you. "The way his clothes clung to him you had to try hard not to stare.

"N-no trouble. Um wait here I'll give you a towel just in case." You leave him and head back into your room. Digging in your cabinet for the towels. When you turned around again Arvin stood in your living room, looking around your meager abode. "I know it aint much, but at least I got my own bathroom" you chuckled.

When he stepped closer and you had to hold yourself together. Arvin dragged his teeth over his bottom lip while his eyes fell to the opening in your rope.

"S-sorry" your face felt on fire, embarrassed you looked down to your feet. You held out the towel and closed the robe with the other. Arvin’s hand lifted your chin and your eyes went wild.

His lips felt so soft. You just wanted to kiss them all day. Arvin's arms wrapped around your waist and you wanted to melt into him.

Arvin turned you around and backed you up until you both fell backwards onto the bed. Arvin rested comfortably between your thighs while his manhood pressed on your mound. You didn’t know if it were his jeans or your nature making you go wet, but either way you welcomed it.

You gasped when he sucked on your neck, kissing the spot after pulling off. Arvin ground his hips into you making the warmth between your legs soak with desperation.

Holding himself above you, you forced yourself to finally look back at him without shying away. He smirked down at you as he peeled off his top, the wet garment hit the floor hard. His muscles moved and tightened as he freed his shaft. Biting your bottom lips you hummed when he rubbed the tip hard against your slit then lining himself up. Arvin pressed his weight down as he pushed inside slowly. You moaned his name at his fullness. The bed frame squeaked as he rocked.

Kissing you again swallowing your moans, you wrap your legs around his back urging him deeper. Ever the gentleman he obliged.

🛎

*Bang Bang Bang

The furious jiggling and banging was most definitely Lee. You were surprised he hadn't popped the lock as usual, but it was only a matter of time before he got through.

Arvin must not have noticed so you slapped his chest. Pushing him off, but he wouldn't stop. Instead kissing you again as you tried to speak.

"Arvin please, that's Lee... he's.. cop" you spoke on his lips, but your words meant nothing.

Arvin's eye were darkened with lust. You tried to spin away, but he hooked your legs keeping you there, fucking you with his slow pace. He was splitting your mind in two. You wanted to cum so desperately, but your reason told you that Lee wouldn't take kindly to this.

Arvin continued to rock into you as Lee screamed at the door.  Your back arched when Arvin took your nipple in his mouth.

"That's it. That's my girl. Come for me." He mumbled over your nipple. Licking the areola and sucking it again, you came around him, squeezing his cock making him hum with approval.

The banging on your bedroom wall brought your high down fast. "I will shoot through this gawd damn wall if you don't let me in!" Lee threatened. You looked at Arvin with panic in your eye. Arvin kissed you gently again as Lee screamed on. You were terrified, you hoped you could explain Arvin's presence away as a maintenance emergency, but before you could properly forma a though he pulled up his pants as you fixed yourself. Arvin didn't stop or look back as you called out to him. Paying you no mind as he opened the door and walked out.

The sound in the hall was so loud you thought lightening had broke through the roof. You rushed out of your room and found Lee out cold, with a pool growing around his perimeter. You looked at Arvin, the young man unconcerned as he began dragging the cop into your room by his feet.

"Get a bucket and a mop" he commanded, the pistol tucked deep in his pants. Without a word you followed his orders.

🛎

[bimsha]

Break The Rules (Kazutora x Reader)

(Kazutora Hanemiya x Reader)

Kazutora Hanemiya doesn’t like school. Like, no offense but sometimes he just needs a break from all the studies and the teachers who pile up an assignment after an assignment. He sighed, walking through the familiar stairs. After an hour-long lecture from their English teacher, he will never be ready for the Science period next. He walked up the familiar staircase. Sometimes, it was his happy place: the place where he will be when things get rough. Sometimes, when he just needed a break, he would go up the stairs and open the door to the cozy rooftop. The wind brushing through his hair. He just enjoyed the silence, the peace. He readjusted his bag and slung it over one of his shoulders reaching to the cold, metal doorknob. He was about to twist it to the side and escape to the warm summer breeze when his ears caught the sound of a guitar. Hanemiya stopped, tilting his head to the side, wondering.

To begin with, he ignored the sound, thinking it was all in his head. That’s when a tune started to catch his years. A soothing tune: slow and deep. It was somewhat confusing not knowing what he would meet from the other side of the door. Hanemiya wrapped one of his hands around the black stripe of his backpack and opened the door. It was all the same, just as he left yesterday evening. The summer breeze kissed his skin as he walked out. The bench in front of him was occupied. He had seen her before. A glimpse or two when they passed the hall. That was it. He didn’t know her name and he didn’t mind that either. It was a big school, you are not bound to learn anyone’s names after all. The girl didn’t look up when he stepped to the rooftop. Her eyes were focused on the guitar. Her finger smoothly plucked each string with ease producing the same lyrical, melodic music he heard before.

“Nice tune,” He said, unable to handle the silence only broken by the sound of the melody. She looked up, her dark eyes surprised by his sudden words. That’s when Hanemiya realized she had not even heard him enter. Quite the prey for a serial killer.

She narrowed her eyes, placing the guitar on her lap, “You’re skipping classes.”

No Hi. No, Who are you? Just stating facts. Hanemiya shrugged, “I can say the same for you.”

She rolled her eyes, readjusting the guitar, “I have music now. The teacher is absent. I’m practicing on my own.”

“Such a nerd” The male muttered under his breath, taking a seat beside her.

She didn’t react, instead, she ran her smooth fingers across the guitar strings. It was like she was creating her own magic with music. Hanemiya watches for few long seconds: “You know, your music is pretty good.”

She looked surprised, “Uh, thanks?”

He shrugged, leaning back. “It’s not that surprising to hear. I bet you get that all the time.”

She gave him a sideways glance, “Not really, you sure you aren’t going to get in trouble because of skipping class?”

She was trying to change the subject, Hanemiya realized. But he didn’t say anything. He, out of all people, knew that sometimes people needed a break. “I am trouble, girl.” He smirked.

She rolled her eyes, “Well, I guess I have heard about your troubles a lot” She said, making air quotes.

Hanemiya grinned, “Glad to know I’m pretty popular, Uhm…” He grimaced, she knows his name but he doesn’t.

“Y/n” She simply replied. Just as if someone who’s used to be forgotten. Like someone who didn’t care about being forgotten.

“Right,” Hanemiya said, rubbing his hands together.

“I don’t make trouble, so people don’t know me,” She said, standing up. Hanemiya raised an eyebrow as she opened her black guitar case and carefully placed the instrument inside. He watched her moves, carefully. From her care for the guitar, it was evident how much she loved music.

“Once in a while, everyone needs to be in trouble.” He said. He didn’t know why he felt that but today he didn’t feel like going back to classes at all. “Without that, life gets boring”

She slung the strap over her shoulder, “I’m the kind who lives a boring life. Excuse me.”

“Wanna break the rules with me? For today?”

She turned in surprise. Her eyes widen, her fingers tightly wrapped around the black strap. “Huh?”

He gave her a sheepish grin, pushing back one of his stray bangs from his face. “You don’t look like you want to go back at all. You can use a little excitement.”

She looked as if she’d reject and Hanemiya wouldn’t have been surprised. They barely knew each other and never have talked before. But something about her made him feel different. It was almost sad that she didn’t have any excitement, hope in those beautiful eyes. She is missing out on the best things in life. “I don’t trust you” She boldly stated, “But yeah, I don’t want to go back.”

A smile crept upon his lips, “Wanna go?”

She nodded hesitantly, “I hope we don’t end up in jail” She murmured. Hanemiya grinned, walking out of the rooftop with her.

“Honestly, I hope so too”

He looked over his shoulder to see whether his statement has shaken her. But her face betrayed no emotion except for the same plain look. He was going to put light into those eyes today. Sneaking out of school was not the hard part. Hanemiya had done it countless times. You just need to know the right hallways and turn from the right corners. Soon, both of them were standing outside of the school, facing the clear view of the road and Hanemiya started leading her to the alley beside.

Each step was conscious. You were ready to flee at any given moment as you followed him towards the alley. In the school, Hansemiya didn't have the best reputation, but there were worse guys, and all you wanted to do today was escape. On other days, you might’ve even rejected if he asked to snitch school and go out during school hours. But lately, you haven’t felt anything. Your only friend was your guitar and your music. You could use something else to drown your thoughts. Hanemiya told you to wait by as he walked deeper into the street. His figure losing in the shadows of the dark alley. You waited, looking around. The main street was nearly empty. All the people were working, all the students studying inside schools. You stared at a nearby stray puppy limping through the road when you heard the sound.

It was a surprise that caught your heart in a storm. There he was, in front of you with a black motorbike, designed thoroughly with dragon stickers. Honestly, you didn’t know much about them but the motorbike looked pretty cool. Hanemiya had changed his school uniform with a black jacket. He tossed you a helmet and grinned, “Let’s escape”

You looked at it unsurely, “You ain’t gonna wear one? Do you have the license for that thing? Are you going to kidnap me?”

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t kidnap girls in broad daylight. C’mon, who do you think I am?”

“A stranger” You replied putting on the helmet and tightening the strap making sure you won’t bust your head if you get into an accident. Looking at his balance and the familiarity he had, like the motorbike was his second personality, you didn’t doubt his skill to ride it.

“Don’t worry, get on. This buddy is my best friend” He said, giving you a sheepish look, patting the seat of the bike.

Something clicked inside your heart. You didn’t remember how many times you have called your guitar your best friend. For the first time, you looked at him a bit more closely. He doesn’t seem to be a person with many friends and behind the excitement of his eyes, there was a hint of sadness. It was barely there, but it existed. You got on behind him and held onto his jacket as he raced through the streets of Shibuya. The trees, cars, people passed you by a blur. Like a watercolor painting ruined by water. Still, there was a beauty in it. Ruined and broken things always had this beauty to them. You just had to look a little bit harder, you just have to be more careful and vigilant. Hanemiya took a sharp turn, breaking your thoughts. You yelped in surprise, holding onto him tightly as you closed your eyes. You could hear his chuckle at your surprise. “You know what is the best feeling in Biking?”

“What is it?” You raised your voice a little because you had to cut through the wind to speak to him.

“It’s escape, Y/n. When I bike, I feel free. No one can touch me. Everyone just passes by me so fast. Sometimes, I feel like I’m escaping to another universe. Just me, the wind and the sound of my friend. It’s a different feeling” Hanemiya tilted his head slightly, taking another turn. “And today, there’s another person sharing my universe, that’s you”

You could feel your cheeks heat up. It should be the rush of wind, you thought as he spoke again, “Quick advice, don’t close your eyes. Open them wide and see. This is freedom!” He yelled the last part, breaking into a peal of soft laughter.

You decided to give it a try. You sat up a little straighter still holding on tight for him. You tipped your chin back slightly, feeling the wind cutting through your face, the harsh wind was comfortable in a unique way. You stared at the blue sky, painted with white tufts of clouds. Everything seems to pass you by, just as he said. It felt like escape, freedom. “This is awesome” You blurted out, leaning against his back, talking against his ear that he might actually hear.

He nodded, “Told you so!”

When he finally stopped beside the grassy plain of the river, you felt a little at loss. You were almost at a zone while you were on that bike. It was like suddenly, all the thoughts inside your mind disappeared leaving you floating in your own dream world. A place where you felt belong. He parked his motorbike and told you to wait. Surely, a lot of waiting, you thought. You sat down by the grass, placing your guitar beside you, waiting for this boy who appeared into your life out of nowhere. “I’m back!” He chirped, jumping behind you.

You turned to see him, holding on two popsicles and the ever-growing grin on his face. “Summer is the time for ice cream,” He said, handing you one.

You unwrapped it and tasted the chocolate and the minty flavour. He was not eating it smoothly, or correctly, you noticed as you looked at him in surprise. He was practically chewing down the popsicle. You cringed, “How are you even-”

He turned with a quizzical look, “Oh, I like the ice cream cold?”

You blinked, “What are your grades? Honestly? Ice cream is supposed to be cold. That’s why you call it ice cream.”

He juts out his bottom lip, “I was just trying to give you a reason.”

You hummed, “Do you often do this? Skip school I mean.”

Hanemiya put away the wrapped and laid down on the river bank, shielding his eyes from the direct sunlight on his face. “When I think it’s too much to handle, I do”

You looked at him. His sandy eyes looked distant. Pale skin shadowed with the silhouette of his own hand. You saw it again, the lingering sadness like chains he could not escape. You wondered the reason behind that. Just maybe, there was no reason at all. It’s just the way it is. We’re all a little sad and broken. Even though others expect us to be perfect, we just can’t and that’s the truth for everyone. “Don’t you ever feel lonely? You’re alone when you’re riding, no one in your little universe. It’s just you.”

He turned to look at you, “Sometimes, but I liked loneliness. When I’m with myself, no one can hurt me. I like it.”

“And you hate it too” Your reply was instant. He blinked in surprise, then a small smile drew out of his lips. You understood it: the nature of loneliness.

“Yeah, I hate it too” His voice was open than before. It was like the boy beside you was starting to open up slowly. He knew she understood and she knew he did too. “I’ve shown you my freedom” He propped himself on elbows, “Can you show me yours?”

It took you a second to realize he was looking at the guitar case resting beside you. You ran your hand through the smooth black fabric before deciding, it was only fair you show your freedom too. You put down the wrapper and carefully took out the guitar. Your finger idly running through the strings, embracing the melodies and the beauty of the sound. Almost magical to your ears. It had always been like this. When you held your guitar, you’re in your own little world. A parallel universe you made for yourself just as Hanemiya said. Your fingers ran through the strings with great familiarity. The melody was soothing for your ears. Your music spoke the words you couldn’t say. It was your outlet. Your way of telling the world that you’re lonely. There’s no beauty in sadness. That’s why your melodies always spoke the plain truth. The truth to your heart, to your soul. “Miya,” You said, turning to him after you finish one song. “This is my freedom. My way of escape.”

He nodded, “I like the nickname”

You flushed, “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize-”

He shook his head hushing you, “You were in the zone. Your music, it’s so beautiful Y/n. I love how it speaks raw and plain truth.” He turned to the river flowing in front of you, “And your eyes shine when you play. Like you have found the excitement” He smiled, “Your happy place”

The smile on your face was effortless, “Like you with your bike.”

“You know it!”

You two shared your ideas and talked with each other. You found comfort in his words as you had never found before. You had never known what it felt like to meet a person who understands. Understand the chaos in your soul. The deepness in your mind. You started to play another song. This time, the melody was a bit hype, because you’re happy. He dropped his head into your shoulder, relaxing. You stopped playing for a minute, unsure of your next move when he sleepily murmured, “Keep playing.”

So, you did. You didn’t know what this was. A boy sleeping beside you, soothed by your music. A boy who understood you’re not perfect and not supposed to be. A boy who showed you his world while you showed him yours. You didn’t know what to call this feeling, so you played it on the guitar. The feeling of butterflies. The feeling of belonging.

After few hours, you two finally decided it was time to leave. There was something you were holding back, the reason for you to be so down the whole day. “Y/n?” He asked, seeing you spacing out. “Are you okay?”

“It’s my birthday, you know” You weren’t looking at his face. You were staring at the river. There was a reason you loved rivers, no matter the challenges they never stop. “No one remembered. I didn’t expect them to. It would be nice if someone did” You scratched the back of your head, “Sorry, that was dumb”

You heard his footsteps before you saw his face right in front of you. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?”

You shrugged, “You used to be a stranger a few seconds ago”

He took a step back and pulled out his wallet, surprising you. He frowned, his face drawing into a deeply thinking expression. “Oi,” You said, “What’s that look for?”

He pouted, “It’s just I don’t have enough money to buy you anything.” He looks as if the gods have decided to send him to hell.

“I don’t need anything” You flushed, “I just told you because-”

He cut you off, wrapping one of his arms around you pulling you into a tight hug. You stiffened for a moment, before finally hugging back, pressing your face onto his leather jacket. “There’s something I can still give you” His voice was muffled. The two of you pulled away and stared at each other for a second. You didn’t guess his next action. Didn’t see it coming either. He brushed his lips against your own. The tiniest speck. The softest intimacy. “Happy Birthday, Y/n. Next year, I’m gonna make it special, I promise”

You closed your eyes for a second, “So, you’re going to kidnap me next year too?”

Hanemiya ruffled your hair, “Yeah, I’m gonna kidnap you from the rooftop next year too.”

You didn’t know why, but you trusted him when he said he’ll remember. “I’ll be waiting.”

“For a hot biker to kidnap you? Geez, Y/n, your imagination is sure wild” He teased, laughing.

“Not just any biker, the dork named Miya is the only one” You shot back, it was his time to flush.

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” He said, exaggerating his surprise as he clutched his heart dramatically.

“I always had it in me, the other people were not keen enough to draw out this side.” You flipped your hair, imitating his dramatic actions.

“What is this? A teen drama?” He huffed, slipping his hand to yours. His long slender fingers fitting right in yours. You both stared at the river for one last time before getting on the bike.

You never held someone so close in your life. It was like no one understood you, and never accepted you for who you are. You were insecure about your flaws, about those imperfections. But he made you feel right. He made you realize it’s okay to be imperfect. He found the meaning behind your music and saw right through you. Kazutora Hanemiya: a boy who knew about the art of loneliness. Who went behind the things he loved to make himself feel something. The only person who understood you. Walking with him, your hands intertwined. You realized how lucky you stumbled into him. How lucky you agreed to break the rules with him. Every second, every minute was worth it.

Happy Birthday to one of the loveliest people in the whole world! I love you Oya! Have a great birthday sweetheart! ❤❤❤❤❤❤

[rainygothherowolf]

Jasonette- Little Sister Pt.1

Here ~ Next ~ Last

Jason was annoyed, he didn't understand why he had to babysit a bunch of annoying teenagers. Bruce tried to make the excuse of keeping them safe while Joker was on the loose, but that didn't mean the head of security of an international company should be following some stupid tourists.

On top of that, his little sister's birthday was coming up. It was hardly a week away but Jason was already feeling the guilt, she would have turned fifteen this year. Jason remembered how a six-year-old Marinette would go on and on about when she became a teenager.

// Flashback, 12 years ago //

"Jay-Jay!" A small half-Asian girl with midnight hair exclaimed, her bright blue eyes shining with excitement as her hands shot up, asking to be held.

"Alright, alright, jeez I just got back, pixie! And you're getting to old for this!" A fourteen-year-old Jason picked up the far too light girl, balancing her on his hip as he fished the granola bar out of his back pocket. "Are you hungry?" Marinette shook her head 'no', pushing the food towards him.

"I ate yesterday, it's your turn." Marinette pouted but took the food anyways.

"Wanna share?" She offered, Jason shook his head. He insisted she eat, and eventually she did.

"Now, I have to go back." Marinette frowned, "I just came to bring your food. I'll be back soon, see you tomorrow." Jason gave his little honorary sister a hug before tucking her into bed, using both her blanket and his.

"When I'm big, like you, I'm gonna make you stay!" Jason chuckled softly before tucking her in again, on the inside he was proud. She was so smart, she'd grow-up to become an amazing person, Jason just had to make sure she lived long enough to do it.

// Flashback ends //

Jason never saw Marinette again, that was the night Batman found him and took him in. His life had changed so much since that night, if only he hadn't been so stupid and told Bruce about Marinette, Jason was convinced he would have taken her in too. But now it was too late, apparently she'd been adopted by some couple in Europe but the case was sealed and without telling Tim or Bruce he'd never get his hands on them.

The second robin was pulled out of his thoughts when Dick approached him, strangely not at work.

"What?" Dick seemed to get more and more excited as he walked with Jason.

"Where are you going, Jay?" Jason glared at his brother, shoving him off.

"I have to go babysit some french class that Bruce invited."

"Hey, you never know- it could be fun!" Jason just rolled his eyes at his older brother's golden retriever-like mentality. They turned a corner and boarded the elevator.

"What are you even doing here, aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I got the afternoon off."

"Great, wanna take my place?" Dick looked at his watch before responding.

"No, trust me, you're the better person for the job." Jason was confused by that, but the elevator doors opened and a quick glance at his own watch told Jason he was late.

"Whatever." Jason huffed as he walked to the lobby, but Dick just followed him as he messed with his phone. Odd.

Marinette was excited, her class had been selected by Wayne Enterprises for a class trip! She was so happy that she'd get to see Gotham again. No one knew that Marinette had grown up in the states and been adopted by the Dupain's, not that anyone cared. The class was quick to fall into Lila Rossi's trap, it hurt Marinette to see her friends leave her but she'd be okay. She had Tiki and her parents.

She might not have Jason, but she'd be okay. She had to be, Ladybug couldn't be emotional compromised.

Lila suddenly pulled Marinette from her revere when she gasped,

"Oh my goodness, you won't tell anyone right? Bruce always hates when people find out, our family is really serious about privacy... but you won't say anything right?" The class was quick to give their assurances before Lila continued to spin her web of lies. She was prattling about some rich boyfriend of hers and how she’s practically family.

Instead of listening to the mindless Italian, Marinette decided to take in the modern lobby. The walls were a sharp white that went well with the dark marble floors. There was a sleek receptionists desk with four busy-looking employee's. Everyone was dressed in business-wear so the french class stood out like a sore thumb. The room had tall ceilings with an understated, modern chandelier and rounded sofas. The seating was scattered throughout the large lobby.

Their tour guide was a nice blond man named Mark, he that said they were going to begin as soon as a security guard assigned to escort them arrived. Marinette was waiting near Mark and Mme. Bustier, keeping her distance from Lila's coffee and her class' harsh glares.

"Later, Dick." An almost familiar voice called, it was gruffer and deeper than it used to be but Marinette instantly recognized it.

"Jay-Jay?" Marinette called out, softly, disbelievingly, it wasn’t the first time she’d thought she heard the voice but the bluenette couldn’t help but hope. He caught it and their eyes met. Marinette could feel her eyes fill with unshed tears as she took Jason in, he was much taller with dark hair and an odd white tuft on the front. His face had matured since she'd last seen him, he now had sharp features and a strong jawline, his eyes were unmistakable. He was dressed in a suit but on top of his shirt was a bullet proof vest, sure she couldn't remember much but his voice had always calmed her and the thought of the skinny fourteen year old smirking would always make her smile, it was almost instinctual.

"Pixie pop?" He sounded like he couldn't believe his eyes, behind the shock was relief- and grief. Marinette slowly walked towards Jason, stopping right in front of him.

Jason couldn't believe it. After all these years they finally found each other again. Regret and disappointment washed over him in waves. Her eyes looked broken. He never should have left her, he should have found her sooner, he should have told Bruce, he should have done something- anything.

"Marine-?" Jason tried to speak but was cut off, Marinette had slapped him. Hard. The harsh noise of her hand hitting his skin got everyone to stop in their tracks, even the eternally busy receptionists. His cheek stung, she was stronger than she looked. He didn't stop her.

"Idiot." Before Jason even knew what was happening Marinette was hugging him, jumping to reach her arms around his neck.

He did his best to shove back his self loathing for another time, right now he had to focus on Marinette.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry." Jason just kept apologizing as he hugged her back, a stray tear seared his cheek. Marinette cut him off with a flick to his ear- he used to do that when she was bratty.

"Where did you go? Why did you leave me? I was alone. And you promised!" Marinette spoke, pushing through the tears, through the emotion- all Jason could do was dip his head in shame. He always promised they'd stay together, no matter what.

"A lot of stuff happened, Pixie. Let's get out of here- yeah?" Marinette nodded before hugging Jason again, this time around the waist.

"I missed you, you big idiot. You’re the worst brother ever, you owe me a lot of candy." Jason relaxed at the word brother, even if he had years to make up for it was better than losing his little sister for good.

"See! I told you he was looking into it for a reason, pay up!" Dick exclaimed, that got Jason's attention. Dick and the rest of his siblings saw his glare and quieted. Damian wasn't even paying attention, he was on his phone. Tim saw the glare but still payed Dick, grumbling as he did so.

"Go be idiots somewhere else."

"No way! She said brother! That makes us her brothers too!" Marinette jumped at the conclusion, Jason growled. He glared again, but the tiny person clinging to Jason took the edge off.

"Dick Grayson." The original Robin introduced himself politely, "Nice to meet you." She greeted the boy politely, wiping her tears away with her left while she shook his hand with her right.

"Tim Drake." The most exhausted of the group introduced, he was about to do something to the youngest- whose head was still buried in his phone- but was interrupted.

"Of course the slut has an american sugar daddy!" Lila loudly announced laughing, the rest of the class joined in- some more hesitantly than others. Jason noticed Marinette try to make herself smaller, hugging him tighter- this wasn't anything new to her.

Jason glared, the boys eyed him- worried about the genuinely deadly look in his eye.

"What did you call her?" Jason asked in perfect french, the children flinched. Mme Bustier stood between the students and Jason, looking nervous but determined.

"Please don't intimidate my students." The woman tried to sound firm but failed miserably.

"Then maybe you should stop your students from bullying their classmate, or did you not hear the brunette insult another student?!" Caline didn't know whether or not to answer but decided to stay quiet.

"Any of you brats insult my little sister again and you won't wanna know what happens." Jason quietly threatened, meaning every word.

"Little sister?" Alya exclaimed, "Please! Marinette is an only child, if you're going to lie at least be convincing! You don't know her at all, the lying bully is just trying to steal the spotlight again!" Jason was pissed and took a threatening step towards the girl, but deep down he knew she was right, he didn't know Marinette. But the one thing he did know was that he was her brother, and no one messed with his family.

For once, Jason's brothers were quiet. Dick and Tim were waiting to see how Jason would handle everything, waiting to see if they needed to intervene. Damian was on his laptop, not giving anyone a second glance. It seemed to Jason he had been paying attention because Damian assumed he'd be in the lobby long enough the take out his computer.

The entire exchange from the moment the insult was given to now had taken no longer than a minute but Marinette was still clinging to Jason until he tried to walk towards Alya again, she had whispered something to Lila that made her laugh and when Jason tried to move forward Marinette released him and grabbed his suit coat, trying to pull him back. Sure the pulls were weak but she meant it.

"You'll just make it worse, Jay." He huffed, there was no way in hell he was going to let Marinette anywhere near the moronic class ever again.

"Fine, let’s call security and get them out of here."

"Hey you can't do that, we were invited by Bruce Wayne himself." Jason continued as if the bespectacled brunette hadn't spoken.

"Oh wait! I am security! Get out."

"Jason-"

"B! Great, you can tell them to leave! I'm outta-here!"

"You're not going anywhere, Jason, and the class is scheduled for a tour. Tim, call Lucius. Ask him to cover for us and get someone who isn't the head of security to escort the tour. Never touch my email again." Tim sheepishly agreed, dialing Lucius' number.

Bruce then turned to the French class as they stared in awe, Caline blushed softly.

"You must be Mme Bustier?" She nodded, "I'm Bruce Wayne, my apologies for the delay, the tour will be starting shortly. If it's alright with you, may Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng be excused from the tour?" Bruce spoke in pristine French, the teacher could only nod in response to the older man's rehearsed smile.

"Mr. Wayne! Can I get a quote for an article?" Alya asked without thinking.

"What's your article about?" Bruce asked, curious.

"Uh-" Alya blushed before trying to disappear into the crowd, he politely ignored her outburst.

"It was a pleasure meeting all of you, but if you'd excuse me I have other things to attend to-"

"Wait! Aren't you going to greet Lila?" The billionaire looked confused for a moment before he noticed one girl looking particularly distressed.

"I'm sorry to say I don't know anyone by that name, now if you'll excuse me-"

"What do you mean? Lila Rossi, your honorary niece! She practically lived with you when her mother worked at the embassy here in Gotham! Your youngest son, Damian's childhood friend! Her boyfriend!" The boy on his laptop snorted at Rose's statement.

"I am not in a relationship with anyone, and I have no childhood friends." Damian shut his laptop as he ran a hand through his hair making a good portion of the class blush, Marinette couldn't help but think 'He's too good looking for his own good'. His dark hair and tan skin highlighted his jade eyes, a business suit adding to her professional demeanor. His shorter, swoopy hair was mesmerizing... and his arms were thick and seemed strong, the veins on his hand clearly visible as it moved through his silky locks. Jason seemed to catch onto her train of thought and hastily covered her eyes.

"No." Marinette giggled, coming back to reality when the boy was shielded from view. He was as protective as ever. She remembered how he'd get when the other kids used to get close to Marinette, being a little girl meant pity cash from adults and was a solid partner on the streets of Gotham. Marinette moved his hand to watch the long awaited fall of Liar Rossi.

"What do you mean?" Nino exclaimed.

"If that wasn't true, what else did you lie about?" Kim exclaimed, Alix seconded.

"Nothing, I swear." The brunette pleaded, desperately trying to convince the class.

"Does this mean you don't know those music producers you promised I'd get to meet?" Nino demanded, the class began to circle around Lila, all asking about promises she'd made

"And the acting internship?" Milene asked.

"Do you even know Ladybug?"

"Or Jagged Stone?"

"Was anything you said true?" The class continued to ask her questions, Lila looked shaken as her not-so-carefully crafted web of lies fell apart.

"Was what you said about Marinette true?"

"Did she even bully you?"

"I knew she wouldn't say such horrible things!"

"Yeah, Marinette never would have hurt anyone! I can't believe we fell for your lies!" Everyone began to yell at Lila, blaming her for all the awful things they did to her. Jason could hardly stand it, pulling Marinette into another hug- she had been dealing with morons.

"Class! Now is not the time, we have a tour. Unless you want the trip to end early I suggest you quiet down!" Mme Bustier was ignored. Mike whistled, loudly.

"Alright! It's time for the tour, so quiet down!" The tour guide quickly took a head count and led the class away, an artificial smile in place. Everyone was either glaring at the Lila girl or looking at Marinette as they walked away.

"Sorry about them, they can get pretty loud." Marinette tried to play the whole thing off, they let her.

"Bruce Wayne."

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, it's an honor to meet you sir. Thank you for the trip!" Bruce gave his three younger sons a look, Damian was back on his laptop but was quick to defend himself.

"I, for one, had no part in this, father. They bet on why Jason looked into some girl's adoption file."

"And you knew?" Damian stopped typing and looked up.

"Maybe... but you can't prove anything." Tim smirked before he remembered what he was going to do before any of the drama came up.

"Damian! Introduce yourself!" The boy who looked to be a little older than Marinette rolled his eyes with a sigh but approached the girl nonetheless, glaring at Tim before looking at Marinette for the first time. His scowl morphed into something else as he studied her.

Marinette noticed his examining her and blushed, but looked back at him just as interested.

"... Damian Wayne."

"Marinette." They shook hands, neither taking their eyes off each other. Jason looked between the two teenagers, first at Damian then to his little sister before going back to Damian and then back to Marinette before it stopped on Damian's- Jason.exe stopped working before it went into overdrive.

As if on instinct, Jason put a hand on each of their shoulders pushing them apart. Their longer-then-normal hand shake ended as they eyes snapped to Jason.

"Don't even think about it. No way in hell, brat, keep your slimy paws off my sister." Marinette blushed heavily, averting her eyes in embarrassment.

Dick and Tim howled in laughter when they heard Damian's response, Bruce smirked.

"She's your sister, not mine."

[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 6.5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: mention of guns

A/N: This takes place during (Y/n) and Twyla’s shopping trip during chapter 6!

Annoyed. That was what bore a semblance of how Neville was currently feeling. He knew that this was the sole and only important reason they had come to Italy but that didn’t stop the tugging in his heart when he and (Y/n) had to part ways. Pulling out a lighter, he sparked his blunt as he continued to walk before he sat at the end of the table, clearing his throat.

“Let’s get this shit over with,” he took a long drag before setting it down in the ashtray in front of him, clasping his hands together.”I’ve already devised a plan, it’s just a matter of it will all work out in person not just in theory.”

“What’s the plan boss? Obviously it’s a great one if me and Georgie are needed.” Fred perked up, snickering alongside his brother. Neville rolled his eyes, looking back down at the page in front of him.

“Right. You, Seamus, and George are all going undercover. Harrison has already taken the liberty of getting the museum guard uniforms. Fred and George, you’ll be stationed near the exhibit entrance and exit while Seamus will be stationed near the back of the museum in order to sneak some of our men in.” the three men nodded, grabbing the uniforms they were handed. “Draco you’ll keep look out around the museum for anyone that may give us away and Blaise will snipe from afar if you need him to.” Draco and Blaise nodded before fist bumping, excited to be working partnered together on a mission once more.

“What bout me boss?” Ron asked, nervous that nothing had been assigned to him yet. Neville chuckled at his obvious nerves giving him a reassuring pat on the back.

“Can’t do much without my right hand man can I? You’ll be alongside me ready to aim and fire when ready. Harry will be disengaging the security cameras and other mechanisms which is why it’s important for Draco to keep an eye out while he’s doing this. And as per usual, Harrison’s already set some cameras of his own up and will be staying here in the camera to make sure we all stay in line and run smoothly.” he sighed, hands on the table as he stood leaning forward with a serious expression. “This mission is going to be one of the most dangerous ones we’ve done in a while. One wrong move and it’s all going to shit. If everything goes right we’ll only end up with a few dead bodies and a lot of priceless things. Any questions?” Everyone shook their heads. 

Although the room had fallen silent it was clear from everyone’s face that they were filled with all the determination and confidence that was needed to pull something this elaborate off. All the skill and mastery required was right there and if anything had been clear before it was that they weren’t going down without a fight. Neville looked at Harrison, watching as he computed the logistics of it all in his head.

“This is some of your best work to date, boss. Now that the plan is done, all that’s left to do is a quick scan of the building so we can all get familiarized. We can all split up in different groups in order to cover the most area.” he snapped his fingers, causing one of the croney’s to bring him a small box. Opening it up, they all stared at the seemingly empty box curiously. “In order for communication to go as smoothly as possible, I recommend you all use these earpieces. We should start with them today in order to get used to them.” the boys each grabbed one of the small things putting them in their ear as they turned them on, all testing them out in their own stupid ways.

“Man, this is awesome!”

“Seamus turn your fucking ear piece off we aren’t there yet!”

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

Deciding the easiest way to enter was to do it the right way, they all paid for their tickets before branching off. Despite them all having assigned partners, the way they had branched off was not who they were assigned to at all. So as he walked through the museum, deep in thought, Blaise accompanied him.

“So boss, after that scenario earlier I’m assuming you fucked her already right? She’s quite fit isn-”

“I’m not above finding you and pulling out this gun Finnegan.” he responded, keeping his ear piece unmuted as Blaise chuckled beside him, shaking their head.

“Please, you really think the boss fucked her? He adores that girl. Surprised he hasn’t asked her out yet. You nervous, boss?” Blaise teased, tensing as he noticed the man had stopped walking. “Boss?”

Neville bit the inside of his cheek before looking up at his friend. Muting his ear piece once more he sighed catching up with him. “It’s just...I’ve never actually tried this whole love thing before. I wanna give her the best and not fuck it up but I’m….lost.” continuing their course, Blaise made note of where the vents where considering that was the most ideal place for them to be when it was all taking place. If he was to be there he’d have range of shooting without having to worry about being seen. “If you cared for someone so..deeply, how would you tell them?”

“You know, you came to the right person.” Blaise responded, a genuine but smug smile on his face. This was once again proving that he had the most luck when it came to romantic endeavors. Sure they never lasted long but they loved each of his partners in his own way. “Why not do something cliche for her? Considering she’s hadn’t even had her first kiss before you she’s most certainly probably not had her first date. Maybe buy her some flowers, take her to the best restaurant money can buy, get her a nice dinner and when the dessert comes out? That’s when you ask her out. Then to celebrate, take her on a Gondola in Venice.” Neville looked at him shocked. Why hadn’t he thought of any of those things? He was sure she’d love it. He could still recall those muggle romance novels she’d read, rambling about the happy endings she so badly wanted.

“Thanks mate. But how should I-”

“Tell her? Well that part is simple. Tell her how she makes you feel and once you’ve done that, the hard part is over.” he chuckled at the man’s flushed cheeks at the thought of his soon to be lover before turning the corner. “Come on boss, let’s check out that exhibit.”

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

“Hey Seamus, race ya to that room of paintings over there!” George said, laughing as he took off. Seamus gasp, beginning to run after him.

“Wait! No fair you didn’t- hey doesn’t she look familiar?” he asked, nudging his head to a tuft of (h/c) hair. George looked at the woman before nodding, eyeing her curiously. It was though she was familiar and yet completely unfamiliar in other ways. Walking over to her he placed a hand on her shoulder. “(Y/n)? I thought you had gone off with- oh.” he trailed off as the woman turned around, revealing a woman who bared somewhat of a semblance to the woman he thought her to be, but not an exact one. Rolling his eyes, he felt the vein in his forehead twitch as a wide tooth smile formed from behind the woman’s red lips. “Hey Gisele.”

“Seamus darling! Long time no see, yes?” she shrilled out, holding out her hand to him. He did the polite thing to do, bowing as he placed a kiss on the top of her. “You know, being the top model here in Europe takes up so much of my time! I’m here for a photoshoot but what brings you here? You’re an awfully long way from home. I’m assuming that boss of yours is here too?” the woman’s French accent echoed in her lilted voice, peaking over his shoulder for the man she had mentioned. At just that second he passed behind her leading her to try and step around Seamus, which he shut down immediately. Gripping her shoulders harshly, he flashed a few fake smiles to passing people before turning an intense look to the woman.

“Listen Gisele, Neville doesn’t want anything to do with you. I think he made that quite fucking clear a year ago when he kicked you to the curb. You were never meant to be more than a fling and you know it. He’s a lot happier now and if you so much as attempt to speak to him,” he chuckled darkly, flashing his gun at her which caused the woman to gasp. “I’m not above taking matters into my own hands. Some of the others may have a no woman or children rule but I don’t. Consider this a fat fucking warning.” and with that he walked off, leaving the woman to consider his words.

She looked at him over her shoulder huffing before walking off angrily.

PREVIOUS||NEXT

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @elemental-of-magic @beewitchedlou @simpforremuslupin @mottergirl99 @princesslaiahg @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically​

[lilyblackdraws]

110 -

08.02.738

"Benee, are you ready?", Alcor called out as she entered her room.

Her partner was adjusting her hood, shoving the feathery tufts on her head through the two openings.

Benee turned around to look at Alcor and one could have seen an exasperated frown spread across her face, had it not been for the scarf she had already wrapped around her shoulders.

"Alcor."

Alcor was adjusting the strap of her quiver, as it had gotten a bit loose when she walked over to her friend's room.

She looked up once she was done. "Yes? Something wrong?"

"Alcor!"

"Yes! Present! Attendance confirmed!"

"What are you wearing!"

Alcor tilted her head. "The... usual? The same as you, really. Cloak, stealth suit..."

"Lower."

"Yes, unlike you I wear pants."

Benee stepped forward and placed her hands on Alcor's shoulders.

"Alcor. How much are you carrying that you need something like that?

It's just a reconnaissance mission. Why are you packing so much!"

"You know, this and that."

Benee involuntarily tightened her grip.

"Alcorrrr."

"If you keep doing that, my name's going to get worn out."

"Don't come to me when you drop out of the sky from carrying all that stuff." "Most of that stuff is just my weapons. I gotta have those."

"It's a mobile ballista."

"Who knows what we'll run into."

"During recon. In broad daylight."

"Well, why do you think Achat appointed the two of us for this if she didn't want my siege weaponry on the job?"

Benee raised her arms in defeat and turned her back to Alcor.

"You're absolutely right. I couldn't even begin to fathom her motives. Though chances are it's just a weird joke."

A tall shadow darkened Benee's room from the door.

A dark, blue figure bent down and entered.

"What joke? I like jokes, tell me."

Benee tensed up. "Ah. Captain Achat."

She turned around. Captain Achat had straightened her back and risen to her full height in the small room.

"I said that your assigning specifically us two to this reconnaissance job is probably kind of a joke."

"That so?", Achat tilted her head left, then right, her usual toothy grin and piercing stare on her face.

"Might be, yeah. But doesn't it sound nice?"

"What does?"

"To be honest, I don't know why Schala wants that town staked out. Probably nothing of note there, so you can consider it a few days off if you ask me. Though at least do look around or something."

The two shuddered upon hearing the name of their great leader spoken so casually.

Achat let out a raspy laugh.

"Ease up. It's not like she's behind me, insisting I use her full name and titles when talking about her."

A small breeze flitted into the room, made a round and left again.

All three present looked out the door.

"Ha ha. Imagine", Achat laughed.

"Yes... imagine", Alcor and Benee replied in unison.

"She's a lot more laid-back than she presents herself. Just... take it easy. You'd best get going now though. You already have clearance for take-off."

"Yes, Captain!"

Benee took Alcor's left hand and dragged her out of her room. Alcor held onto the strap of her quiver, with her ballista just about held under that same arm.

Achat left the room as well and looked at them as they left.

Alcor and Benee arrived at the east-end of the Assassins' quarters where their zone for take-offs was located.

They took position and the wall slid up to reveal the open air behind it.

"Let's go then!" Alcor shouted, already sprinting ahead into a jump out of the castle.

As soon as there was open air beneath her she plummeted out of Benee's field of view.

Benee rushed after her, jumped and quickly unfolded her wings that she had folded into her scarf to start gliding. As she did, she looked around below for her partner.

Benee started to panick when she couldn't find her and turned to look into a different direction.

Then she finally spotted her, far below, her wings spread but still descending rapidly.

Benee went into a dive to fetch her, knowing that it'd be pointless, but she still had to do it for her friend.

Before she could reach her, Alcor had managed to stabilize her flight.

Benee positioned herself next to her and gestured disapprovingly.

Alcor shrugged, then staggered as her cargo started slipping.

Benee moved to help her catch it, but she had it under control.

After that, their flight was largely uneventful.

Benee couldn't help but be impressed by Alcor's carrying capacity.

The two landed at the outskirts of the town they were sent to check out.

Alcor placed her quiver and ballista on the ground, took a deep breath and stretched thoroughly.

Once she was done she folded her wings back up, and Benee did so too.

"See, Benee? It was all good," Alcor smiled and patted her pants to see if whatever was stashed in them was still there.

"Yes, it was all good. Still looked unreal."

"Honestly, you should know it by now."

Benee sighed. "Let's just go."

"No, we're not just going. Tell me how impressed you are, watching me soar so easily carrying all my stuff."

"No, that's silly." Benee crossed her arms. "I stand by the notion that you didn't have to bring all of it in the first place. Waste of energy."

"Waste of energy." Alcor mimicked Benee's voice mockingly, then laughed.

"You're always so stuck up. Relax a bit, even our Captain's less stiff."

"Anyone would have a hard time to be like her..."

Alcor smiled at Benee, who returned the expression, and the two started walking down the street into town.

[volleyball-dontknowher]

1 picture = 1000 words  Oikawa Tooru x reader

Words: 2140

Warnings: fluff

A?n: sorry guys I had an off day and I wanted to go ahead and tell you that I have the other requests for the event and I am planning on doing them either when I climb into bed or tomorrow!!! I also only have a few requests left so please bare with meee

Going to Aoba Johsai was an easy choice for you, they had an amazing art program that was one of the best in the prefecture as well as being well...the closest to home. You walked maybe five minutes to school which was absolutely perfect when someone walked home with you, it was just long enough that you got to chat but never got into something too deep. Another wonderful reason that you decided on Aoba Johsai in the first place was a beautiful man named Oikawa Tooru. You and OIkawa had been in the same class now for five years, and you had had a crush on them since day one. It was something you would never ever admit to anyone, you wouldn’t even risk putting it in your journal because of all of the what if’s involved. 

You found yourself taking little peeks at Oikawa throughout the day and just admiring how beautiful he was. You loved how he was easy to talk to, even though you had only done so a handful of times, how his smile never faded, and you especially loved how his heart never strayed away from what was right. You had seen him go from just some boy playing volleyball to someone who was regarded as one of the best setters in Miyagi. Oikawa was always cool, calm and collected traits that you could only admire.

You had gotten a simple assignment for your art class, paint a stranger. Without trying your brain went to Tooru and you were set on painting him. The task was that you should paint a stranger, but a stranger you could watch so it would be perfect. You sketched him later that day in class before taking it home and starting to paint. You had been working hard on getting every little tuft of hair correct as you tried to imitate the boy you had secret feelings for. 

Today was the day you were supposed to turn the projects in and you were fretting more than usual. You didn’t like how lopsided his lips looked and wanted to fix it up but ran out of time. You were one of the first in the classroom, as it was about five minutes before class actually started so you decided to set your stuff down and head to the bathroom. On your way back from the bathroom you suddenly didn’t feel so well. Halfway down the hall you stopped and took a sip from the water fountain before slowly sinking down next to it. You couldn’t help but see that the world was spinning and you couldn’t help but watch as it went black. When you woke up you were in the nurses office, quickly being asked a series of questions. You sat up and scratched the back of your head as you figure out what exactly had happened to you. 

Oh shit. 

You forgot to eat breakfast this morning, you were up late working on the painting, then this morning woke up so late that you had to sprint to school and you’d spent the whole morning stressing. You passed out. 

Double oh shit

You left your painting on your desk, exposed to everyone and your next class had already started in that room. THe class you shared with Oikawa Tooru. He was going to see your painting and there was nothing you could do about it. Luckily for you the nurse decided that you were not feeling well enough to continue on with the rest of your day. Your mother came to pick you up. She walked you to the car before going back to the school to grab your backpack.The car ride home was short and you had to admit that you were relieved to put off the inevitable for at least another day. You felt sick just thinking about the rude things that the girls that hung around him would say. They were the meanest, and the prettiest, in the school and you just practically cast yourself as even more of an outcast than you already felt. You liked to keep to themselves and that was something these girls knew nothing about, you heard stories of all of the guys they liked and dates as well as gossip about everyone else in the room. Once you were home you shook off these uneasy feelings as you ate some leftovers and went to bed. You slept the rest of the afternoon, waking briefly to have dinner before going back to bed in a mindless slumber. 

Getting ready for school in the morning felt like the most tedious drag and you found yourself dragging your feet more than usual. You grabbed your backpack and quickly made your way to school. You got to school, passed the gates and went straight to your first class, ready for this day to be over already. You sat in your chair with your head on the desk hoping to get a little bit of shut eye before you had to go to start your day. Class started and came and went as usual, lucky for you this was just home room and OIkawa didn’t share this part of the day with you. Next was art, oh shit. Art. You didn’t have your project. No. It wasn’t with your backpack, it was probably in your mom’s car. You couldn’t imagine turning it in two days late, that was completely unheard of and unacceptable. Walking into class you tried to think of the best things to explain to your teacher but she just smiled and told you welcome back. You sat through the lecture with a lingering worry as you tried to figure out where your stupid project had gone. 

At the end of class you decided to suck it up, “Mrs. Paddich I’m sorry about missing yesterday and about my project, I-” you start, nervously. 

“Oh dearie, a young boy turned in your project for you yesterday clamining that you left it in the class. I do have to say that your painting looked awfully like the boy, it was incredible” 

Your heart sank. 

“Oh, um thank you,” you stuttered before leaving the classroom quickly. Oikawa had seen your painting and had turned it in for you. That was the only explanation for this, you had never seen him near an art room, even if he was dating an artsy girl he didn’t meet them down here. Why did he do it, how did he do it, all of these questions were a mystery but you had to deal with it. You went to your shared classroom today and instead of using the bathroom you went straight in and say down. When Oikawa entered the classroom you didn’t bother to run and look at him because you didn’t want to have him notice you. Little did you know that when he saw you in class he smiled just a little bit before getting drawn into talking to the same girls as usual. The entire class you were focused on avoiding Tooru while he was focused on ways to catch your attention. He wanted to ask a million questions about the painting, it was beautiful and he wanted to know how and why you made such a beautiful thing of him. Even though he seemed to be the most confident in the room Oikawa wasn’t. He wasn’t even the second or third most confident, he was closer to the end of the list but seeing you capture him and make him look so happy, so alive made his heart flutter. Tooru couldn’t help but stare at the painting when he first saw it and tucked it quickly away before the other’s could say anything about it. He knew it had to be returned to you, except you never came back and he had no idea what to do. Oikawa decided to bring it to the art teacher in hopes maybe you would show back up there next period and get to have it back. Secretly he wanted to keep it and treasure it forever, it was the most sentimental thing anyone had ever done for him, and the sad part was it wasn’t for him. Your painting stuck with him for the rest of the night and he found himself constantly daydreaming about it, about you. He had to confront you and talk to you, but he didn’t know how. He knew that you were in the same class for many years but you were always shy and even if he was interested you two were sat on the opposite side of the room. 

The class was over before he had even finished his day dream and you both tried exiting as quickly as possible, for complete opposite reasons. He had barely missed you but was determined to get to you but you rounded the corner into the mass of people before it was possible. 

It was now the last class of the day and Tooru had the same thing happen three more times to him, he had no idea why or how you escaped him so perfectly every time, but you did. This time was going to be different. He was going to get the advantage and get to talk to you once and for all. The bell rang and he jumped from his seat faster than anyone else in the room, and instead of trying to get you to talk to him right there in the busy hall he followed you just a few steps outside before catching up to you. 

“Y/N,” wait,” Tooru tried calling, but it came out as more of just a whisper. You turned back to look at him, both worried and confused, this was the first time he has ever said your name. 

“I-I just wanted to say that I saw your painting and I really liked it and I wanted to know how you did it,” he caught himself stuttering out. That was weird, Oikawa never stuttered. 

“I don’t know I just did,” you shrugged trying not to let your heart beat out of your chest. 

“It looked amazing Y/n, I just can’t stop thinking about it, I have never felt that way about something before. Why did you choose me?” 

“If you want it, you can keep it. It was just for a project, I had to paint a stranger and I just guess I chose you,” you were looking down at your hands now, unsure of where this was going and trying to keep the heat from rising to your cheeks, “because we were supposed to paint strangers and I thought you would be a good subject,” 

For reasons unbeknownst to Oikawa those words stabbed him directly in the heart as he felt himself suddenly breathless at the word. Strangers. Nothing in the world could have ever prepared him to have such a reaction, after all it was the trust, you were strangers. “If you don’t mind Y/n, I would like to change that,” Oikawa tried his typical flirty boy thing with you, but you could both tell that he was faking it, “I mean, I would like for us to not be strangers anymore,” he quickly corrects himself.  You look up at him in almost disbelief, had the Oikawa Tooru just stuttered in front of you and messed up his words. You took a second to process it all before nodding at him. The butterflies that arose in both of your chests was something that promised happy days to come.

You exchanged phone numbers before he left for practice and before you knew it texting an old friend. Oikawa was funny and flirty but also real over texts, he sent you dumb picutes of what he was doing and you felt comfortable enough with him to do the same back. Girls in your class quickly noticed the change in their king and when they attempted to approach him about it, he was already engrossed in a conversation with you. It had been almost a week since you turned in that project and you had totally forgotten about it, moving on to other portraits. You got the painting back and walked to class with it behind your back hiding it from Tooru until you gave it to him as a gift. 

He gave you the goofiest smile as you found yourself smiling back at him. He told you he had a surprise for you too, when you asked what it was he refused to tell you. All throughout class you kept bugging him and all he would tell you is that you would have to go with him and see. 

“But Tooru, where are we going?” you found yourself shyly asking him. 

“On a date silly,” he beamed back. 

[onlytaylor]

Drarry + Facing Demons and Finding Family

Tw: mentions of symptoms of depression, anxiety, ptsd, and child abuse. All are resolved with a happy ending.

Draco Malfoy walks the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, and it’s different now. The way it had bustled with a vibrant vivacity in his younger years is long gone now, replaced by the mediocrities that come with running errands and making stops for work. It had been repaired, for the most part, after the war, but something about the shadows of buildings that used to be constructed just a little bit different haunts Malfoy in his steps.

He turns to glance over his shoulder when the sound of a child laughing fills the spaces between bustling bodies and adult feet. A familiar tuft of blue hair comes dashing forward, and Draco feels a momentary reprieve from his own hollow dissonance. His face lights up as the boy throws his arms around his neck, crying “Cousin Draco! What are you doing here?”

And behind the vivacious grin is the humble one of Harry Potter, the boy who really did end up saving the world. Draco doesn’t hate him; how could he? If it weren’t for the testimony of the man standing there now casually in his Muggle plaid shirt and ripped-up jeans, Draco wouldn’t be walking these streets.

“Malfoy,” he puts his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth a bit on his feet. “What sort of business are you up to these days?”

“Oh, just... dropping off a package for the boss. You know.” He shrugs, suddenly vacant. His momentary reprieve shrinks into a daunting reality.

“Wanna come get ice cream with us?” Teddy’s toothy grin eats at the edges of his impending monotony.

“Oh, well, I wasn’t-“ he starts, but Harry Potter has stepped his foot forward.

“No, please. If you’re not too busy, we’d love to catch up. Teddy misses you.” And, allowing the package to feel a bit lighter in his coat pocket, Draco turns on one heel and heads to the parlor with them both.

***

Having Teddy Lupin run through his life is like chasing a tiny piece of dynamite. You never know just when it will explode, and when you’ve got it in your fingers it seems to roll invariably to the floor. Draco’s been waiting now for quite some time for his own destruction, but his regularly timed meetings with Harry (wow- really on a first name basis now) and his cousin had brightened his steps countably.

It seemed that the sparking fire may just never come.

***

Draco Malfoy doesn’t visit Malfoy manor, and its empty rooms are surely hung with cob webs and dust mites and other small creatures that have made it home. The stone exterior is beginning to succumb to a green vine that twists its way up the foundation, and apparently small children dare each other to knock on the door of the “Death Eater House.”

Draco doesn’t have to visit Malfoy Manor to know which ghosts roam its halls, apparitions of tortured souls and the results of his own mistakes. If only he’d stood up to his father. If only he’d run. If only...

Draco swallows, once, then twice, before straightening his stare ahead. Harry’s coming over soon, and this time Teddy is at the Burrow. They’ve never hung out like this, quite alone and unsupervised by Teddy’s string of home-made knock knock jokes. He’s not sure why, but he’s nervous.

***

After the war, Draco had considered himself a work-in-progress. He’d ventured through the stages of grief, mourning his losses and wishing he could change the past. He’d also picked himself up off of the floor, vowing to start new. None of this was easy. Panic followed him around every corner, but around every corner was the reassuring laugh of Teddy; smile of Harry. If he’s honest with himself, he’ll admit their great assistance in his own healing.

But that doesn’t stop the nightmares. Or the constant feeling of dread. And when Draco Malfoy is alone, his guilt consumes him. Why hadn’t he done the right thing? Why hadn’t he stood up to his father?

***

When Draco was eight, he’d drawn a portrait of his family. It was an assignment by his private tutor, a sort of busy-work while she prepared more practice for magical theory. He’d drawn them, stoic and cold, using shades of gray and black to fill in the spaces between them. They didn’t touch, didn’t love. Lucius told him that artists didn’t make any money in the Wizarding World. Draco ripped up the drawing and threw it in the rubbish bin.

***

When Draco’s lease on his London apartment is near its end, Harry finds him with a nervous twitch of his lips.

“You know, Draco, you don’t have to move into another building. I know you hate your neighbors because they remind you of your family. Our flat is large enough for a third member.”

Draco had almost immediately rejected- his first instinct was to scoff at any such attempts at pity. But Teddy’s eyes had met his, bright and foretelling- and his pleas almost melted Draco’s shoes to the asphalt.

“If you really want me to,” Draco smiles, “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

***

Draco hadn’t realized that his ghosts would follow him here. But as he watches the shadows dance upon the walls of his very own room, he knows he’s not dreaming. It’s his father, reminding him that he will never be good enough.

It’s his mother, watching with irrefutable silence.

It’s himself, pointing a wand at Dumbledore. Leaving with Snape. And abandoning his dreams to follow in his father’s foot steps.

It’s a portrait of Draco’s family, stone cold and frozen against the frosted window pane.

He doesn’t realize he’s screaming.

Not until the door is thrown open, and Harry’s there, sporting nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a concerned purse of his lips.

He’s on the bed, and now Draco is crying. Yelling. Laughing hysterically. Because he’s fucking insane, sitting in a bed half-naked with Harry Potter and telling himself to shut his fucking mouth before Teddy wakes up.

But Harry is gentle. He wraps his arms around his shoulders and whispers “I know. But it’s not true. None of it is real.”

And Draco sobs, without really knowing how to stop, and Harry’s skin is warm against his own. It’s the first time he’s ever really felt whole.

Hours pass, though the clock reads otherwise. And Draco tells him that he needs to go back to bed. That they’ve both got work in the morning, and Teddy is visiting Andromeda...

But, no, Harry whispers, this is more important. You are more important. When had their relationship morphed into this... whatever this is?

Draco Malfoy allows himself to be held, and it is surprisingly wonderful.

***

Working for the ministry is like working in one of those Muggle cubicles. He should be grateful for the opportunity, but Draco hates his job. His boss is monstrous, a poised figure that reminds him far too much of his father.

He gets a bit panicky when requests are made, unable to say no. Draco Malfoy never thought he’d become a push over, but his inherent desire to please, to win, to have a second chance is tumultuous.

He doesn’t know how to live without it.

***

Teddy is spending the night at the Burrow, and Draco and Harry are doing their usual dance of washing and putting away the dishes.

“Fancy a movie?” Harry asks, and something soft flutters in Draco’s chest.

“Sure.”

***

It’s midnight when Draco feels the gentle presence of Harry slumped against his shoulder, his quiet snores a rhythm that he begins to memorize.

He doesn’t move, and the stillness is what allows him to feel the sporadic twitches that begin to ripple through Harry’s body.

“No, no,” he murmurs, “Please, no. Hermione... Cruciatus...”

Draco freezes, and he immediately understands the inner workings of Harry’s psyche.

He was there when his aunt Bella inflicted near irreparable damage to Hermione Granger. He didn’t stand up. He didn’t stop her.

There’s a tightness in his chest, and it fluctuates with his heart rate. Harry is having a nightmare, and it’s all his fault.

“You’ll never make up for what you’ve done,” he hears his father say, and the words are a gun to his head.

“Harry,” he whispers, desperately running his fingers along the side of his arm to calm him. If he couldn’t go back, the least he could do is aid his sleep.

Harry settles, and Draco breathes a sigh of relief. His father is laughing at him.

Ghostly shadows dance along the walls, flickering in the dim light of the TV. The world seems to grow around him, and he is infintismal.

His palms are sweaty as the guilt settles, rotting a hole in his stomach. And then there’s a whisper, a subtle word that shifts everything: “Draco.”

He glances at Harry’s face twice to make sure he’s not imagining the slight tug at the corner of his mouth. He said Draco’s name. And, from the depths of his slumber, he’s smiling.

Draco’s eyes are prickly, and he’s not sure why there are tears surfacing at such an inopportune moment. Perhaps he’s gone completely insane... or maybe...

“Not your father, Draco... amazing... need you... love you...”

A light seems to dissipate the shadows, which morph and expand into unidentifiable shapes before they slowly vanish. Draco’s hands are still clammy, but his mind is on overdrive.

The Savior of the Wizarding World is dreaming about him. Believes in him. Maybe, even...loves him?

And the remaining shadows come crashing down, spirits that find rest in redemption. If Harry Potter, with his stupid scar, and his stupid broomstick, could think highly of Draco Malfoy, the ex-death eater... maybe he could forgive himself.

Maybe... and then there are images flashing through his mind. Of stone family drawings and cruel and unjust punishment.

Of the desire to please, so much, that if his father pointed a wand at his throat he’d beg for forgiveness. Of pretending to have dignity for so long that he’d lost his own along the way.

And then, another sleepy rasp from Potter: “not your fault...”

And something snaps inside him.

“Not my fault,” he repeats, barely audible, yet it rattles an earthquake that cracks the floor. The ground faults, and everything he’s ever know crumbles before him.

“You are pathetic.” The voice of his father shakes the walls, breaks the foundation. Rips open the fortress of his solitude, jagged lines coursing through his very being and down to his core.

There’s a wand at his throat.

Harry isn’t here. Here, it’s a Malfoy’s paradise, and Draco’s skin crawls at the realistic image of his father before him. He’s so fucking life-like, the drawl of his criticism dripping with the poison of a basilisk. He’s smiling, and that hurts. It’s malicious.

But then, another whisper. A distant proclamation that rings through the periphery of his hearing. “Draco... always... good enough...”

Fuck. Harry?

“Good enough,” he repeats, the syllables a solid reality, just like the man before him. And, in a sudden fit of realization, Draco realizes the epitome of his salvation.

“You’re not real,” he says, and the words are a bit shaky as they permeate the air. His father’s face twists into something unreadable, a cross between a scowl and utter shock.

“You’re not real.” The wand lowers. His brow narrows.

“You were never real. My father is in Azkaban. You are just the ghost of what he did to me.”

His hands are drifting into the atmosphere, like grains of sand dissipating toward the floor. His expression morphs into utter fear, and, for once, Draco feels powerful.

It was never about defeating him. He could have dualed his fractured subconscious for years, constantly bettering himself, only to fall again. And the wand would always be pointed at his throat

But Harry, Harry said he was good enough. And he can hear the distant titter of Teddy’s amusement, the padding of his socks as they bounce along the hardwood floor of their flat. Of their home.

Harry cares. Loves. And so Draco must love himself.

“You could never kill me,” he says to the air, as the whisp of Lucius Malfoy’s presence fades into nothing. “It was just me, all along. Hurting myself because you trained me to. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fucking fault.”

There’s a sudden whoosh, and the room is spinning. And then it’s not. And Draco Malfoy is sitting next to a blissfully sleeping Harry Potter in a London flat.

The movie is over, and all that remains of the last few minutes is a line of scrolling credits.

The shadows, they’re gone. And somehow, Draco is no longer haunted. The house is peaceful, and a serenity seems to fill it’s every crevice, binding the cracks that once cleaved the walls. He pulls Harry closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Taking a risk he’d never had the confidence to execute.

Harry smiles, stirring a bit before turning his green gaze upward. “That’s nice,” he says, and Draco chuckles.

“Yeah, it is, hm?”

“Hey Draco?”

He doesn’t reply, but meets that vibrant stare of his with irrefutable honesty.

“Thanks for being a part of our family.”

“Family?” The word nervously slips his lips. He’s never done this before.

Harry nods. “You, me, and Teddy.”

His eyes are prickly again, and he swallows a hard lump in the back of his throat. “I love the sound of that. Of family.”

“Good. Because I’ll hex you if you go anywhere. Old habits do die hard, you know.”

Draco laughs, hearty. Whole. Harry snuggles into his shoulder, falling asleep lightly as he thoughtfully plans his next project.

***

The next day, Teddy enters to find Draco drawing a picture of his family at the kitchen table.

“Whatcha doin’?” He asks curiously, hopping onto Draco’s lap as he sketches.

The picture before them is a family, a blonde, a brunette, and a tuft or blue hair between them. There are no spaces, no empty holes between their bodies, and the sky is a vibrant array of purples and oranges.

“Let’s hang it on the fridge!” Teddy exclaims, grasping it and running to attach it to the front of the surface.

Draco eyes the picture smiling, and it is the best he’s ever felt.

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Wedding Colors (Part 1)

(Hayffie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💖. An exploration of Effie’s evolving character as she faces past and present personal intensities while making preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding.)

6:00—wake up. The timer in Effie’s quarters buzzed, and the overhead lights turned on automatically. Up up up! It’s going to be a big, big, big day! If the lights could have spoken, that’s what they would have said... The irony.

“This oppressive cavern has no respect for my individual biorhythms!” She pulled the blanket up over her head.

Her one consolation was that the blanket smelled like Haymitch — his skin, his hair, his body with hers. She breathed in deeply, and the scents evoked memories of the evening before. If there was going to be regret, she hadn’t yet felt it. Instead, she was inundated with the sensations of an awakened heart and flushed cheeks.

She lifted her nightgown and traced the paths his hands had taken. Pleasure urged her fingertips in concentric circles and symbols of infinity. Her core flooded as she came alive, so quickly. Effie turned her face into the pillow to stifle the sounds coming from her throat as she trembled and found release.

Every morning in that dungeon, she’d missed the sunrise — the infusion of gold and blue, with wispy clouds white as cotton or pink like tufts of spun sugar. For weeks she’d longed for some bit of delight. And she was feeling it now.

Unfortunately, the timer chirped every five minutes until she placed her forearm into the hole in the wall which imprinted her schedule for the day. She dragged her sated body out of bed to submit to obnoxious authority in order to silence the equally obnoxious alarm.

“...7:00—breakfast, 7:30—kitchen duties, 8:00—Command...” It had been a couple of weeks since Plutarch had an assignment for her which took her down to Command. Am I in trouble? was her initial thought.

Aemilia Trinket’s voice crept out from the recesses of her mind. “You deserve whatever punishment awaits you for sacrificing your virtue to that boor!”

“Oh, Mother...” Effie pushed back at the chastising words inside her. “I said goodbye to my *virtue* 17 years ago. ...And shut up about Haymitch. You don’t know him. You don’t know him at all.” She said it louder than intended, then glanced around her quarters. Are there recorders in here? ...Probably. The people in charge in 13 seemed to care as little about privacy as they did about free will. In which case, they likely got an earful last night! Effie changed into her clothes quickly, imagining the horror of cameras hidden as well.

She slid one of her bracelets onto her wrist and slipped her sunglasses into her pocket. Then she gazed into the small mirror on the wall, searching for evidence that someone might be peering out at her from within. Her reflection was flat here, a shadow of her normal self, her former self.

Her soft curls were weighed down by the residue of industrial shampoo. “This golden color is lovely,” her mother had told Effie’s 5-year-old self, “Though I had hoped it would have grown long and thick by now. You must resign yourself, Euphemia, to a lifetime of woven ribbons, extensions, and silk scarves. Implants may be a possibility when you’re older. Or wigs might come back into fashion. Let us hope they do.”

This is my favorite part of you... Haymitch’s words broke through the old memory. He’d threaded his fingers through her hair and held on like a person drowning, kissing her until her lips were raw.

For an instant, she considered leaving her head uncovered today, but split ends after weeks of unmanicured growth brought her to her senses. She brushed out the night’s tangles and tied her hair up as usual in order to continue hiding at least that much of herself.

If Coin had given Effie approval to continue wearing the wig she’d arrived in, then she wouldn’t be restricted now to improvised kerchiefs and turbans. How is a person supposed to stand out here when everyone is ordered to look the same!?

***

7:00—Breakfast. In the dining hall, Effie always sat at her assigned table, unless someone she felt comfortable with was scheduled to eat at the same time, in which case she joined them if space permitted.

The list of people in 13 who she was comfortable with was short. It began with the Everdeens and Gale. He’d introduced her to his family, but they remained distant. Most people here kept their distance from her. She didn’t like to think about it. “Everyone is still adjusting,” sweet Delly Cartwright had mentioned weeks ago.

Effie tolerated Plutarch’s company as soon as she’d forgiven him for the forced rescue effort which brought her here. Next came Katniss’s *prep team* which included 13’s barber along with the nurses who did laser treatments to remove scarring. Cressida and her film crew whose names Effie never made an effort to recall were from the Capitol, but she felt little kinship with them.

There were also the people who had gathered to brainstorm for the propos. Beetee and Finnick she’d known loosely for years through the Games. Boggs often had his little boy with him in the dining hall. She’d scarcely spoken with Dalton from District 10 or Katniss’s friend Leevy, but at least ther faces were familiar.

Greasy Sae worked in the kitchen during mealtimes, otherwise Effie would have enjoyed her company. Her lively presence was one of the saving graces of “kitchen duty.”

And there was Haymitch.

At breakfast that morning, she sat alone. The food was tasteless as usual. She stirred mashed beets into porridge, creating a bright pink swirl. At least her meal would have some semblance of beauty.

At 7:15 a tray plopped down next to hers. “Morning, sweetheart.” He looked cold in his knit hat and sweater. His bloodshot eyes avoided hers, but he was here.

“You want coffee...” she said knowingly.

“Whiskey first. Or preferably both together, if you’re offering.”

“We’ll have to pretend.” She clinked her plastic water cup against his. “Cheers.”

He finally looked at her. In this light, her eyebrows were golden like the hair she concealed under that kerchief. He wanted to trace them with his fingertips. Why hadn’t he done that last night?

“Did you sleep?” she asked.

“More than usual.” He wanted to touch her. Could he touch her here? When they were making their rules, they hadn’t talked about this part. “I was worn out from the... unscheduled exercise.”

“Is that what that was?” She leaned toward his ear and whispered, “My hips are marked black and blue with your fingerprints.”

His expression changed. He slid an arm around her waist and rested his hands lightly on her hip bones. “Here?”

His face was close to hers. The cut on his lip was starting to knit itself together. She wanted to kiss him. Could she kiss him here? When they were making their rules, they hadn’t talked about this part. “Yes... I’ll live.”

Her echoing his words from the night before only added to the feeling of intimacy. He brushed his thumbs along her hips, offering a gentle apology; even though she was the one who had asked for roughness.

She dropped her hand to his thigh. “I like having your fingerprints on me.”

“I had a good time.”

“I had SUCH a good time.”

“Want to do it again—“

“What’s this about good times?” Finnick arrived with two breakfast trays. Annie’s hand was tucked in the crook of his elbow. He set the trays on the table directly across from Haymitch and Effie. He pulled a chair out for Annie, then sat beside her.

“It looks like we’re having a little reunion here...” Haymitch grinned at Finnick and left his hands right where they were on Effie’s hips despite her letting go of his thigh and returning to her meal. “...Annie, you’re looking lovely.”

Their his-and-hers hospital gowns had been replaced with standard District 13 clothing.

“Indeed, it is WONDERFUL to see you both — together.” Effie fidgeted, uncomfortable now with Haymitch touching her so personally in front of his friends and her associates.

“Annie, my love, you remember Effie Trinket? And Haymitch of course.”

“Effie...” Annie took a moment to place the name. “Oh! I didn’t recognize you. You look so... beautiful.”

Welling tears made Effie’s eyes shine bright blue. Unadorned and dressed in these rags, she hadn’t expected anyone would find her beautiful, let alone give voice to such sentiment. “Thank you, my dear. YOU are the beautiful one. That hair is absolutely divine.”

Finnick beamed as he held Annie’s hand, “Can I tell them?” he asked and she nodded. “She’s going to be a beautiful BRIDE very soon.”

“Ohh!” Effie clasped her hands together and held them in front of her chest. “You’re getting married! This is DELIGHTFUL news.”

At the mention of marriage, Haymitch let go of Effie’s hips. Having sex with someone he cared about was feeling dangerous enough. Marriage was a whole other species that he wanted nothing to do with. That said, he couldn’t help but feel a moment of lightness. He reached forward to clap Finnick’s shoulder. “I’m glad, kid. Nobody deserves a good thing more than you two.”

A slyness slipped into Finnick’s smile as he glanced from Haymitch to Effie and back again. “Other people deserve good things too.” For years he’d observed them shooting barbs at one another, holding each other’s hands each time one of their tributes died, lifting one another up through his drunkenness and her disappointed hopes.

“You and Effie?” Finnick had asked him years ago. “...Too complicated,” had been Haymitch’s response.

Noticing Finnick’s scrutiny, Effie cleared her throat. “Well, look at the time! It’s my turn to be a *servant of the masses.* Congratulations, dears. I look forward to seeing you all later.” She looked intently at Haymitch before moving toward the kitchen.

When she passed through the doorway, Finnick poked him in the arm. “You LIKE her.”

Haymitch said nothing. He could feel the corners of his mouth start to creep up, and he shoved them back down again.

“You’ve never had much of a poker face.” Then Finnick said to Annie. “When he’s got a good hand, he has too many tells. He definitely likes her.”

Annie was glowing like late morning sun lifting up over the woods.

Haymitch had played enough poker with Finnick to know it was pointless to protest his assessment. “It’s like liking a cat,” he admitted, “One minute they’re all soft and purring. And the next, they’re hissing and scratching your eyes out.”

“Or your lip maybe?” Finnick’s eyes were twinkling mischief. Flecks of light on a green sea.

“Alright, alright. Eat your porridge.”

***

8:00—Command. Plutarch and Coin were in the thick of discussion when Effie arrived. She waited unobtrusively just outside the room, hearing only pieces of their conversation.

“My soldiers are occupied with intense training which does not include *walks in the woods*.”

“Forgive my assumption, but soldiers would likely shovel fallen leaves at random and lop off branches without finesse or discernment. We need someone with artistic flair.”

“Effie Trinket will have to make due with the foliage within the exercise yard and along its perimeter.”

“The yard is small. Those limited trees will not provide the diversity of colors and shapes we need for a truly festive propo. This propo is KEY to reaching into the minds of the citizens of the Capitol. Surely regulations can be flexed so a handful of civilians can spend their exercise time gathering vegetation in a small section of the woods.”

“I hear your perspective. But I cannot authorize a full security detail to supervise the equivalent of *berry picking*.”

“Madam President, may I remind you that you agreed to decorations. To honor the spirit of that agreement, those decorations must actually be decorative.”

“What do you propose?”

“Two security guards for two hours, a 100-yard radius, with four civilians wearing tracker anklets and communicators.”

“I’ll allow the two hour shift for a single security guard, a 50-yard radius, and two civilians working in tandem. Any additional foliage you need must be gathered from within the yard.”

Plutarch opened his mouth to negotiate further, but decided against it when he noticed Effie near the doorway. “Ah, Miss Trinket, just the person we’re looking for.”

Effie stepped inside, carrying herself with grace to hide her lingering concern that she’d been called to the *principal’s office* for doing something wrong. “I’m grateful to be at your service. All this dishwashing lately has been MURDER on my hands.”

Coin stood up, signaling an end to her discussion with Plutarch. He followed as she greeted Effie. “Hopefully your hands can be resurrected, because we’ll be needing them over the next few days.”

“Fortunately, resurrection is one of my specialties!”

“Well, that’s something we have in common.” Coin always took the last word, though she never showed overt pleasure in doing so. The president was clearly adept at concealment. The stillness of her hair was uncanny. Stoic even. Maybe it’s a wig after all, Effie thought. The nerve of this woman.

“Madam President, please excuse us.” Plutarch nodded to her. “Miss Trinket, let’s walk.”

He led Effie to an elevator and pressed a button. She watched the lights as they descended to who knows where. “Are you taking me to the dungeon?” she asked.

“It’s all dungeon; isn’t it.” As ever, he was aware of his audience, “Though some places here are less... unpleasant than others.”

The elevator opened up into a zig-zagging corridor flanked by rooms full of technology. The end of the maze was marked by light, lustrous enough to resemble sunshine.

They entered a large room steeped in stillness, interrupted periodically by the flitting chatter of hummingbirds. The floor was dotted with planters full of grass. Several trees carried Effie’s eyes upward to an elaborate ceiling. The architecture was austere yet beautiful. She drew a breath and held it in awe. If this dungeon had a cathedral, then this surely was it. “What is this place?”

“Special Defense. A fitting name for the site of our ultimate propo... the wedding of Annie Cresta and Finnick Odair. The details are being arranged as we speak. Do you feel up to the task of coordinating some of those details?”

His words filled her with a sense of purpose. She could have hugged Plutarch! She could have skipped around the nearest tree like a girl. With a lifetime of rehearsed restraint, she walked to the center of the room and turned methodically in a circle, observing the entirety of the space.

“I do!”

Plutarch smirked. “You realize that YOU are not the bride?”

Effie glared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous! I DO want to help coordinate. When Katniss left for District 2, I was relegated to the work of a peasant!”

“Apparently nobody avoids chores here. Even the president.”

“I have yet to see HER with a broomstick... outside of metaphor, that is.”

“Careful. I believe 13 is bringing out your natural color.”

“Well, it’s all I have in this fortress of gray! The grass and trees add a gorgeous splash of green to this glorious room, but these cement walls are atrocious.”

“I agree. Coin is allowing them to be decorated with fall foliage. Beetee assures me that a few spools of old wire and aging adhesive tape can be repurposed for making garlands. Have you made garlands before?”

“Of course! Decorating is one of my talents! Not that there has been much opportunity for it down here, to put it mildly.”

“Coin will make a public announcement, requesting volunteers to assemble the decorations later this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?! It’s a great deal to pull together so quickly!”

“Time is of the essence. Tomorrow a hovercraft will take Katniss and Annie to District 12 in order to select clothing for the bride and groom.”

“Ohh...” Effie whispered with even greater reverence than she felt at the sight of the ceiling. “...Cinna and Portia’s closets.”

“Yes. Katniss asked permission for you to accompany them to help the bride with her fashion decisions. Her request was approved, but the choice whether or not to go with them is yours. I’ll be honest; 12 is a gruesome place right now.”

Fire bombed. Thousands of people dead. For weeks Effie had imagined the reasons Haymitch knew he couldn’t face it sober. The images her mind conjured were disturbing.

“Katniss would not have asked for my assistance if she didn’t need it. ...Of course I’ll go. I will always be there for my victors.”

Plutarch assessed her. “You may regard yourself as a reluctant rebel, but it’s clear to me where your loyalties lie.”

“Is it?” Effie’s question was genuine. Loyalty was a concept she didn’t contemplate. Doing her job, whatever that may be, was important to her. The people she cared about were important to her. For a while, she’d felt increasingly tugged in opposite directions. She was still trying to hold herself together.

“I trust you’ll figure that out in time.”

“Plutarch, do you EVER give a straightforward answer?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

She shook her head, half amused and half annoyed.

“I have people setting up three hundred chairs in here later this morning. The film crew will work with them on optimal placement in order to get the best angles. The propo will film the day after tomorrow. Wedding Day. I’ll need you to make sure the bride and groom look their best.”

“Now, THAT will be easy. They have tremendous natural beauty. They just need a little help smoothing out some rough edges.” Effie might have been tempted to describe their appearance as haggard, but when she’d observed them at breakfast, she could see that being deeply in love had a power to smooth out edges that lasers and makeup could not touch.

She felt a flash of envy and let it pass without holding on. She already had enough emotions to contend with. *Deeply in love* was a complication she did not need. She could feel herself standing upon a brink — a precipice with a red canyon below and warm wind rushing around her. Letting the wind take her would be so easy. And letting the wind take her would be the smashing death of everything she’d ever been.

I’m not ready for it.

She and Plutarch spent the next quarter hour discussing juxtaposition of color and shape, length and placement of garlands, positioning of the bride and groom. He’d already thought through each detail. He’s not just planning a propo. It’s almost as if he’s designing... an arena. Effie felt chills along her arms.

“This wedding, it’s not another... Hunger Games?” She began it as a statement, but it came out as a question. To her ears it sounded absurd, but her body clearly felt something she couldn’t wrap her mind around.

“There are different kinds of hungers; aren’t there? And games are always afoot.” Again, he was intentionally vague. “A person only needs to create the right atmosphere; then those hungers will emerge, and those games will play out of their own volition. Creating the atmosphere will be our collective task today.”

The goosebumps refused to subside. She suspected Plutarch would never be out of a job in any regime. “What do you need me to do?”

“You’ll notice this morning that you’re scheduled for two hours of exercise. You’ll be in the woods.”

“The woods?!” Effie enjoyed the natural world at a distance and contained, but nature up close was wild and daunting.

“A security guard will escort you. Coin gave approval for another civilian to work with you to gather vegetation. You’ll need a diversity and abundance of leaves, much more than can be found in the exercise yard. You’ll have only two hours, so make wise use of your time. Whatever you bring back is what the volunteers will have to work with this afternoon.”

“What is the plan for the afternoon?”

“Between the lunch and dinner shifts you’ll have use of the dining hall. Volunteers will show up to make the decorations. School will be done for the day, so expect citizens and refugees of all ages. Afterward, you’ll bring a number of volunteers back here to display the garlands as we’ve discussed.”

“Who will be helping me in the woods?”

“You can select anyone whose schedule for the day can be altered. No on-duty kitchen staff, hospital staff, or military personnel, and no minors. ...Who do you want?”

Who do I want?

A hummingbird hovered close. The feathers covering its throat shimmered like rubies, but the beating of its wings was the only sound she heard.

“If you don’t know who you want I can just assign someone.”

She silently cursed the prohibition of makeup here as her feelings showed scarlet on her cheeks before she’d even said his name.

“Miss Trinket, the clock is ticking.”

A ticking clock... this reminder of the last arena raised more goosebumps. When the chips were down, there was only one person in this fortress, maybe in the whole world, who she was comfortable with.

“I want Haymitch.”

“...Of course you do.”

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.III: Don’t Bite and Tell

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, Angst, slight Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, mentions of death, brief accounts of violence, practice of ritualistic and sacrificial magic, blood and slight gore, etc. 

word count: 5,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

“I’ve encountered a couple hunters myself over the years, but never one who hunts and kills witches.” Mark watches Jinyoung pilfer through the scriptures him and the rest of his coven members managed to pull together after Youngjae’s reveal of a possible supernatural hunter in town. A murderous one, at that. Jinyoung skims through another page, before shaking his head, “The original supernatural hunters were created by witches to kill vampires… I don’t understand why one would specifically track down and murder covens? Nor how they have the power to do so?” 

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out now.” With Jinyoung in tow, Mark heads toward the edge of the cemetery. The pair soon reach a small gazebo adorned with overgrown vines, where Youngjae and Jisung are sitting on the ground inside, herded around a large silver bowl, inside a tuft of dark hair and a special charm bracelet that belonged to Nayeon. Jisung holds a squirming black rat between his palms, while Youngjae proceeds to sharpen a silver dagger. 

Mark turns back to Jinyoung, “We’re going to perform a spell to track whoever or whatever used dark magic to kill Nayeon.” The vampire nods in understanding, leaning against a pole supporting the top of the gazebo. Mark takes his place between the two witches before sending a white-faced Jisung a glance, “You okay? Or do you want me to do it?” Jisung immediately shoves the rat into his awaiting palms. 

Mark takes the creature without a word, offering the youngest witch a soft glance. Once Jisung turns his head away, Mark quickly breaks the rat’s neck, internally wincing at the audible crackling of bones, and nods toward a waiting Youngjae. Youngjae slices open the belly of the rodent, causing warm blood to spill down Mark’s hands and into the silver bowl. Mark watches the bracelet and hair gradually bathe in the thick, red substance, before discarding the dead rat out of sight. 

At a call of his name, Jisung returns to the triangle, appearing a bit sick, and joins his hands with Youngjae’s over the bowl while Mark cleans the remaining blood from his skin with a nearby handkerchief. Their clasped fingers immediately begin to glow, allowing both witches to finally begin the incantation: 

“Inveniet hostium et tenebrae… Inveniet hostium et tenebrae…” Mark rises to stand beside Jinyoung as the two repeat the chant over and over again. However, his attention is stolen away at the loud, rather hateful call of his name. A sigh of annoyance slides from his lips at the sight of a fuming Minho storming toward the gazebo with a frantic Lia in tow. Mark bids Jinyoung a quick ‘be-right-back’ before hurrying over to the newcomers. 

“You let that bloodsucking bastard onto our grounds again!?” 

“I’m sorry, Mark! I tried to keep him distracted, but he saw our texts!” Mark waves away Lia’s worries and points her in the direction of the gazebo, leaving him alone with the red-faced, angry-browed witch. 

Mark releases another sigh, “I know you’re upset—” 

“Upset!? Oh, we’re way past that now…” Minho crosses his arms, “Not only do you completely ignore my warnings, but you go behind my fucking back!? Last I checked, I’m a part of this damn coven too.”  

“I had no other choice, Minho. You made it very clear you weren’t on board with our plan—” 

“And why should I be!?” He sneers, uncrossing his limbs to wave them at Mark in frustration. “When have the Primes ever done anything to deserve our allyship!? Much less our trust!? You of all people should understand that!” 

“Until Nayeon’s killer is found, we are temporarily working with Jinyoung.” Mark pretends not to hear Minho’s last comment, choosing to hide his budding rage beneath a blank, emotionless frown. “He wants to help, okay? And I want to be able to sleep soundly at night knowing that my people are safe.” 

“They’re not just your people… and just because you think you’re all high and mighty for calling the shots doesn’t give you the right to overrule everyone else!” 

“Are you seriously still on this bullshit?...” 

Back when the coven was first formed, and before Jisung joined the path down witchhood, Mark, Nayeon, Youngjae, Minho and Lia all came to a consensus that the coven needed a leader. Mark was voted as such by the majority, which he knew, never sat well with Minho. 

The younger witch shakes his head, “I’m just saying that you can be a little out of tact with your emotions when it comes to situations like this—” 

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean!?” Mark hisses, unable to hold back the floodgates of his own impending temper. Minho buries his face in his palms, murmuring nonsense while pacing back and forth. He resembles a mad-man, is Mark’s main thought, before he slowly removes his hands and murmurs: 

“I’m only trying to prevent a repeat of what happened last time.” 

“I won’t let that happen.” Mark growls, “Things are different now. We’re stronger.” 

“You say that now, until another one of our people ends up dead.” 

Mark frantically shakes his head, “Fucking hell, Minho! I’m doing the best I can here!” 

“If you were, then Nayeon would still be alive right now.” 

Minho spares one last glance at Mark before spinning on his heel and taking off into the direction he originally came. Mark calls his name, once, then twice, but Minho doesn’t slow his pace. With a heavy heart, Mark follows the younger witch’s form until he disappears behind the gate of the cemetery, leaving behind an even heavier feeling in Mark’s chest. 

“Mark?” He inhales a deep breath before peering over his shoulder at Jinyoung. Inside the vampire’s black irises, Mark almost swears he can see a spark of sympathy, but waves it off as a trick of the sunlight. 

Jinyoung gestures toward the gazebo, “They found a trace.” No sooner had the syllables left his lips, Mark is already beelining for the decorative structure. He enters to find the three remaining witches deep in discussion.

“What did you find?” Mark’s wave of elated hope expels from his veins at the note of Youngjae’s wide eyes and pursed lips. He glances between Lia and Jisung, but only receives the same disturbed expressions. He shakes his head, “What is it?...” 

“It’s worse than we thought, hyung.” 

“What do you mean ‘worse’?” 

“The spell didn’t trace to the hunter, or an object like we thought—” Youngjae pauses to take a breath, clutching Nayeon’s bloody bracelet in the palm of his hand like a life line. “The one who performed dark magic on Nayeon-noona was another witch…” 

Mark’s eyebrows furrow, “But that doesn’t make any sense? If Nayeon was killed by a supernatural hunter, there’s no way they can also be a—” Before he can finish his thought, the puzzle pieces thundering inside his mind immediately click into place. His jaw drops, but not as much as his heart, “...unless we’re not dealing with just a hunter.” 

“A supernatural hunter and a powerful, traitor witch.” Lia groans, carding a hand through her already messy strands. “And to think things couldn’t get any fucking worse.” 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

Vampires. Park Jinyoung. 

Those two things have been haunting the forefronts of your thoughts ever since you saw them scrawled so neatly across that yellowed page. You tried to search for more information, more elaboration, more anything, in Mayor Bhuwakul’s recounts, but that specific entry was the last, and the rest of the journal was as blank as a cloudless blue sky. Except you aren’t enthused by this particular emptiness, in fact… you’re completely fucking terrified. 

It doesn’t make any sense. The diary was written almost two and a half centuries ago, so there is no possible way that Jinyoung, and his so called brother, can still be alive. But then again, it does make sense. If Jinyoung and Jaebeom are vampires—

What are you even saying!? It’s not possible! 

You curse at the countless articles about the Twilight book series that come up in the search results, having dealt with this same issue since you took to the internet to find more research. There’s another thing—vampires are fictional, just like witches and werewolves and all those monsters that go bump in the night. All those creatures are just made up fairy tales to scare young children… but then why are you the one quivering in your boots? 

“Mrs. (L/N)?” You nearly flinch at the sound of your name, frantically moving to close the cover of your laptop. Your tension immediately releases at the sight of one of your students standing over your desk with an expression of confusion, “Sorry if I interrupted—” 

“No, no. It’s nothing important.” You quickly say before sending the boy a pointed look, “And what have we talked about? Mrs. (L/N) makes me feel way too old. Call me (Y/N), please Hyunjin.”  

“Sorry, (Y/N). I keep forgetting.” Hyunjin smiles sheepishly.

You shake your head with a chuckle, “What can I do for you, kiddo?” 

“I’m confused about this assignment Professor Park gave us yesterday.” You take the thick packet that Hyunjin offers, skimming through the many pages as he continues to explain, “I get that he wants us to analyze different elements of the excerpt, but I don’t get exactly how I’m supposed to do that…” 

“How to analyze the story?” 

“How I figure out the right stuff to analyze.” 

“Well, the thing about literature is that there’s no such thing as the ‘right stuff’ to analyze.” You meet Hyunjin’s gaze again, tapping the tab of your pen against the front of his assignment with a shrug. “You could read a story and feel one thing, but then I could read the same story and feel something completely different, and the author who wrote the story in the first place could have created it with a different intent than what both you and I got. 

“Think about it like… eating an apple.” You hold up the apple you brought for lunch, “You can just eat it how it is, or peel off the skin and just eat the flesh, or even cut it and up and put it into a pie. There’s no one right way to eat it—” Hyunjin intently watches as you place the fruit back on your desk. “—it’s the same concept in analyzing literature. As long as you find some sort of meaning beneath the words, you’ve done your job.” 

“Thanks, (Y/N).” You return Hyunjin’s smile as you hand him back his assignment. He tucks the paper into his messenger bag before nodding at the stack of papers on the edge of your deck, “Prof has you over your head in grading again?...”

“If you think this is bad, you should have seen what I had over the weekend.” 

“He takes advantage of you, you know.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “You guys all take advantage of me, and I’m not even your real professor.” 

“Somedays I wish you were. I learn more from talking with you in five minutes than listening to Park’s ninety-minute long lectures.” 

“Hate to tell you, you and your little entourage would get away with a hell of a lot less if I were in charge.” Your eyes shift toward the students lingering around the classroom, most either socializing or packing up some last minute supplies. You recognize Hyunjin’s group of friends waiting near the entrance, acknowledging their excited waves when they catch your gaze. 

Hyunjin chuckles, his own gaze drifting down to the notebook laid open across the surface of your desk. His confused expression returns as he skims through your hastily written notes before you have the time to grab them from view, “Are you doing research on… vampires?” 

“I-It’s for a, uh, a special project I’m working on for the university… about the town.” 

“Moon Dye Bay does technically have a history of the supernatural—especially witches.” Hyunjin explains, “You know, if you’re looking for something, or someone specific, I would check out the archives in the Town Hall. They probably have a whole bunch of ancient stuff down there.” 

Hyunjin’s advice sparks a multitude of new ideas within your brain: The archives probably date back to the beginning years of the town, meaning there has to be some account of residency in 1770. If you can find Jinyoung’s, or Jaebeom’s name, you’ll be one step closer to ending this ignorance… or one step closer to finding out a truth that could change your life forever. 

“I—” You nod your head, “I might. Thanks, Hyunjin.”  

“It’s the least I could do. I wouldn’t have passed this class last semester if it weren’t for you.” 

A call of Hyunjin’s name snatches both the student’s and your attention. Hyunjin shouts a quick response back to his awaiting friends before offering you a sheepish smile, “I should get going before they come over here and drag me away, but thank you again, (Y/N).” 

“Just make sure you get that assignment in on time, or it’s an automatic zero.” 

Hyunjin throws both a radiant smile and a playful wink in your direction as he heads toward the exit, “See you next week, Ms. (L/N).” 

“Call me that again and I’ll flunk your ass.” You shake your head and watch as Hyunjin, his friends and the remainder of the students filter out of the classroom, leaving you to your lonesome once again. With a heavy sigh, you bury your face in your palms, thumbing away the pain in your temples. 

Even if you do manage to find answers, where are you supposed to go after the fact? If Jinyoung is a—is not human, then everything you’ve ever known and believed is just… gone. Turned into a dust like the ghost of a forest after a fire. If vampires are real, then what other monsters lurk in the shadows? What other monsters are here? In Moon Dye Bay? 

...What kind of danger have you gotten yourself into? 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

The taste of bourbon runs bitter along Jinyoung’s taste buds, only to travel smoothly down the length of his throat and settle warmly in the pit of his stomach. He lowers the crystal glass from his lips, licking away the remnants of alcohol that remain before gazing outside the large, rain-stained window. The silhouettes of foggy trees and foliage stare back, doing little to cure the racing of his thoughts. 

A hunter and a witch working together to kill other witches… and to think that he had faced every type of enemy in the book.

 Jinyoung has met thousands of witches over the years, some who were not too keen on working with others of their kind, but never one who actively goes around slaughtering other covens. It’s against the Balance of Nature for witches to murder witches. Then again, the practice of black magic is too… so why would a witch, who already has access to such power, strive to kill their own?... Less it be for more power. But even then, to steal another witch’s magic would require mass amounts of energy beyond energy. 

And he’s only met one other witch who has been able to foster that much strength to do so. 

Jinyoung releases a deep breath before taking another sip of his drink, welcoming the temporary calm it brings to his mind. He turns away from the window to head toward the desk in the corner of his bedroom while shrugging the suit jacket from his shoulders. After throwing the garment over the back of the chair and setting his cup down, Jinyoung unbuttons and rolls the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, providing some much needed cool relief to his bare skin. He presses his palms against the surface of the desk, leaning forward to stretch the tension from his arms.

He’s not sure whether it’s because of the alcohol or the rain, but Jinyoung’s thoughts can’t help but shift to you for what seems like the millionth time in the past few days. Since your encounter a couple days prior, you always seem to make an appearance inside his head. It’s almost as if he can’t be rid of your face, your voice, your everything… not that he would ever want to. Especially since he made a pact to keep his distance—for your safety, and his sanity. 

Jinyoung moves toward the bathroom while undoing his button up, ready to temporarily wash away the stress and concern of the crisis at hand, when his bedroom flies open with a loud crash. He barely has a second to process the entry before his body is shoved back against the wall, a pair of hands holding the collar of his now torn shirt and a pair of enraged eyes searing into his soul. 

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, “This was one of my favorite shirts, hyung.” 

“You better have a good fucking excuse on why you’re hanging around with Tuan and his pathetic band of magicians?” 

“Couldn’t you have asked without ruining my clothes?” 

“Jinyoung…” 

Jinyoung releases a sigh of exhaustion, quickly realizing that Jaebeom won’t unhand him without an answer. 

“The coven is being targeted by a supernatural hunter and a witch. Their seer was killed last week.” 

“So what? You suddenly care about a bunch of witches?” 

“Mark and his coven are the reason we were allowed to remain in Moon Dye in the first place. If they die, do you really think the pack and the league will still let us stay?” Jinyoung shakes his head, carefully watching as Jaebeom paces toward the opposite end of his bedroom—his expression growing more and more infuriated. “Besides, I’m taking care of it.”  

“You’re taking care of it? Really?” Jaebeom whirls around with a scoff, “Did it completely slip your mind that these are the same fuckers who tried to kill us to begin with? Tuan and his alpha wolf bitch?” 

“I’m just ensuring our peaceful livelihood here, hyung.” Jinyoung stands his ground, calmly staring at his companion. “You may not care, and you may not like it, but frankly, I love this town, and I want to stay—it’s our home for goodness sake.” 

“You’re playing with goddamn fire, Jinyoung. Do you really think they’ve let go of the fact that we killed—” 

“For fucksake, Jaebeom!” Jaebeom’s expression falters at Jinyoung’s sudden outburst and lack of honorifics. The younger of the pair tugs at the roots of his scalp before heaving an audible sigh of exhaustion, “I’m too tired to fight with you. Please—just trust me when I say that I am taking care of it.”  

Jaebeom shakes his head, “How many times have I told you not to fuck around with witch business? Do you remember what happened the last time you—?” 

“I’m tired, hyung.” Jinyoung shrugs off Jaebeom’s starting-attempts-at-an-argument along with his torn shirt. He feels Jaebeom’s gaze following his near-to-bare form as he enters the bathroom, throwing one last comment over his shoulder, “And last I remember, you killed Jackson Wang. Not me.” 

Jinyoung doesn’t spare another glance at Jaebeom’s expression and shuts the door, cursing the fact that he forgot to grab his bourbon.

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

“Don’t worry about it, (Y/N).” Jihyo carefully maneuvers her belongings onto one arm, utilizing the other to open the front door with some amount of struggle. “Sana’s boss is making her work overtime too, so I’ll just hang out here with Momo and Mina tonight.” 

“Yeah, I got her text.” Carefully shutting the obstacle with her foot, Jihyo continues deeper into the apartment, pausing every now and then to stabilize the phone on her shoulder. She manages to make it into the kitchen without any accident, heaving the Chinese take-out up on the countertop with a relieved sigh. “I shouldn’t be long. I just have to take care of some last minute stuff for Park.” 

“Just do what you need to do.” Jihyo quickly adds, “And please, for my sake, take a goddamn Uber home.” 

Your chuckle carries over the line, “You got it, Mom.” 

“I’m serious, (Y/N). With my luck, you’ll land your ass in the hospital again.” 

“I’ll be careful. I promise.” 

Jihyo tosses her purse on a nearby table before running her fingers through her hair, offering a small smile to Momo who suddenly emerges from the living room. She nods, “See you in the morning then.”

“Yep. Night, babe.” 

At your goodbye, Jihyo hangs up the call and deposits her phone beside her purse. She moves to unpack the bags as Momo approaches, throwing a sheepish grin toward the newcomer, “It looks like it’s just gonna be you, Mina and I tonight, so I hope you’re hungry.” 

Momo hums, her gaze remaining on Jihyo as she goes about grabbing plates and utensils from various cupboards. Jihyo can’t help but shudder from the intensity of her hawk-like stare, but chooses to stay silent while laying out the food. Even then, her skin still continues to crawl, especially when Momo begins to mumble to herself. 

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that?” Jihyo turns at a particular murmur, tilting her head at her blonde companion. To Jihyo’s surprise, Momo doesn’t answer, but steps closer, practically caging Jihyo in the tiny kitchenette. Jihyo finds herself anxious at the lack of space. “Wh-What are you—?” 

“You can see the tattoo.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” 

“Really? Cause I think you do.” 

Jihyo shakes her head, “It was honestly just a mis-misunderstanding—” 

“Look again.” 

“I really—”

“Look. Again.”  

The rational part of Jihyo’s brain yells at her to flee from the scene, disliking the borderline sinister expression graced along Momo’s features. However, her curiosity seizes the remainder of her self-control: 

She lowers her gaze to Momo’s right arm, finding the same dark, supposedly imaginary ink patterned in various elements: Jagged tree branches, illegible symbols, and compass needles pointing in an unknown direction. 

“What do you see?” 

“I-I don’t know.” Jihyo presses herself as close to the edge of the counter as she can, faltering beneath Momo’s still approaching form. “I see a tattoo, but-but that’s not possible—” 

“Wrong.” She gasps at Momo’s harsh grip on her arm, “You can see it… because you’re just like me.” 

“What are you even talking about? Momo, this is—” 

“It’s just like I said,” Jihyo’s mouth snaps open as her companion releases her hand to poke the back of her hand, causing the inked needle to spin right there across her skin. She doesn’t know how it’s possible, but somewhere deep inside her gut—Jihyo knows everything is real.

“You’re a hunter too.” 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

There was once a time Jaebeom remembers where him and Jinyoung used to be close—a time where they used to be true brothers. The kind that were there for each other. The kind that fought side by side no matter the enemies who awaited on the other side. The kind that didn’t keep secrets from one another. Jaebeom would never admit it aloud, but sometimes he finds himself missing those days—missing Jinyoung. 

A part of him knows he’s the reason for the distance that has wedged between them, but even so, Jaebeom is too pig-headed to willingly accept all the blame, more so since Jinyoung has burned his own fair share of bridges in their various lifetimes together. Some far worse than what Jaebeom has thought of doing. 

Jaebeom never truly intends to hurt Jinyoung. He just gets so angry, and when Jaebeom is angry… he becomes very, very hungry. 

And you just happen to be right there, walking through the doors of the Town Hall and into the greedy shadows of the night. The moonlight bathes across your skin, practically illuminating your body for his benefit. Jaebeom knows he shouldn’t—knows that Jinyoung may hate him forever—but just as with everything else, Jaebeom chooses not to care. 

You’re being careful, he quickly notices, between the hesitant steps you take and the careful eye you keep over your shoulder. The knowledge only strengthens Jaebeom’s bloodlust. He can’t help but imagine how your blood will taste… Will it be sweet like honey? Or savory like a freshly-grilled piece of meat? His mouth waters in anticipation as he slinks closer and closer toward you. Like a predator rounding in on his prey. 

Thanks to his inhuman speed and strength, it only takes Jaebeom seconds to immobilize and press you against the nearest secluded wall where even the brightest rays of the moon can’t reach. The scream you attempt to release is muffled beneath his palm, while his other hand busies itself with revealing the delectable skin of your throat. Your scent hits him like a pile of bricks, and it’s unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He grows frenzied, almost deranged by the fragrance, desperately craving more and more. 

He easily counters your thrashes and squirms against his hold, practically suffocating your figure with his own. Feeling the thread bearing his self-control slowly splintering, Jaebeom parts his lips, runs his tongue across the pointed tips of his fangs and prepares to guzzle the pain  away, when your voice slips into his ears: 

“Don’t do this, please…” 

He makes the mistake of meeting your gaze. All at once, Jaebeom can sense the tidal waves of your fear, your passion, your will to live just in the glittering rings of your eyes. It leaves him breathless, no longer controlled by his need to feed, and instead, floating amongst his own disarrayed thoughts and pent-up emotions that he only experiences when he chooses to embrace his humanity. 

“Jaebeom…” 

You know his name— 

Jaebeom realizes at once he can’t do this—he can’t hurt you. Not when you’re looking at him with those eyes and speaking to him with that voice. No matter how intoxicating your aroma. He won’t hurt you. 

Jaebeom grabs your chin with near-to-trembling fingers and leans closer until the tip of his nose barely grazes along yours. In a hushed, yet stern tone, he murmurs, “You’re going to walk home and forget any of this ever happened. You never saw me… Understand?” 

“I—” He watches your eyes widen, “I understand.” 

Jaebeom doesn’t stay to check the result of his compulsion, quickly stepping away from your body and dashing far, far away from that alleyway. He doesn’t stop even when he’s thousands of miles away from Moon Dye Bay, trying to escape this spell you cast over his mind. But no matter how much distance he covers, Jaebeom can’t outrun the lingering ghost of your gaze… 

Jaebeom can’t outrun how, in that brief moment, you made him feel so completely human. 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

“I just don’t get how someone could do something like this.” Mark nods in agreement at Youngjae’s statement, watching his younger counterpart take a sip of his luke-warm coffee from his perch behind the lectern. “I mean, why take all these innocent lives—witches or not?”  

“Some people are just… fucked up, I guess.” 

“I don’t believe that.” Youngjae shakes his head, thumbing thoughtfully at the arm of his mug. “There has to be a reason, hyung. People aren’t just—born evil.”  

Deep down, Mark knows Youngjae is right, but he can’t find it in himself to reply, silently continuing to flip through the old spellbook in his own grasp. This particular text has been in his family for generations upon generations. It was given to him by his mother soon after his magic began to flourish—the last gift he received before her death. 

Due to the Tuan ancestral bloodline’s specialization in spellcasting, this book contains almost every spell known to witch-kind. He’s used its contents to defeat threats in various situations—this time should be no different. At least, he hopes so.   

“If we have any chance at winning this fight, our best bet would be to take out the witch first.” Mark carries the large book toward the table where Youngjae is sat, setting the pages out for both of them to see. “I’m thinking we can halt their magic flow somehow, so there’s no way them or their partner can touch us—” 

“So like a halting spell? Or a disruption spell?” 

Mark shakes his head, “A simple halting spell won’t work. Not if they’re practicing black magic.” 

“But what if we could pull enough power of our own?” Youngjae inquires, “I mean, with you, me, Lia, Jisung and Minho, shouldn’t that be enough to overpower their source?”

“Not necessarily.” Mark sighs, “Black magic is… complicated, but powerful. Depending on what or who exactly our witch is drawing from, we could be easily killed—especially if that is what they’re aiming for.” 

“Right. Have you… heard from Minho? Since earlier?” 

“No.” 

Youngjae hums at Mark’s haughty answer, watching silently as the older continues to flip through the giant book. Upon reaching a certain page, Mark halts and angles his findings to better show the younger witch. 

“We may be able to link their dark magic to something, like an object or even something alive. It wouldn’t necessarily block it, but if we channel it elsewhere, it could at least give us enough time to incapacitate them?” 

“Will Jinyoung be able to take on both the hunter and the witch?” 

“I don’t know.” Mark’s teeth sink into his bottom lips, his thoughts feverishly racing at Youngjae’s observation. An idea pops into his mind—one that replenishes a forgotten ache in his heart. Casting away the sinking feeling in his gut, Mark says, “The pack… might be able to.”

“Hyung…” Youngjae offers a sympathetic look that makes Mark’s gut lurch, “I don’t know if that’s a good id—”  

Youngjae’s voice is cut off by the sudden slam of the mausoleum door, opening to reveal a dark silhouette emerging from the black of night. With Youngjae at his side, Mark immediately rises at the intrusion, preparing for a possible fight, but quickly relaxes when he realizes the identity of the abrupt visitor: 

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here—?” 

“Save it!” Mark almost reels back at the amount of pure venom laced in your tone, growing more and more confused at the blend of animosity, desperation and what seems to be betrayal, written across your face. “You better have a good fucking excuse for lying to me all these goddamn months, Tuan!” 

“What are you talking about? (Y/N)—?”

“I’m talking about the fact that Park Jinyoung and Im Jaebeom are fucking vampires!” Mark’s blood runs cold at your response. At your next words, though he can’t see himself, Mark knows his face flushed as white as a ghost:

“And you—you’re a witch, Mark.” 

[solllaris]

retrograde — 01

↳ here.

PAIRING: Frat!Tom / Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: It takes some convincing, but you ultimately agree to go to a frat party and are pushed out of your comfort zone in more than one way.

WARNINGS: language, underage drinking, anxiety/panic attacks, & insecure thoughts

WORDS: 5874 

NOTE: This series is my baby so please be nice. The reader’s fears and anxieties are basically a reflection of my own, so posting this makes me feel super vulnerable. There were many moments I seriously considered deleting everything I had made for this series because I was too afraid to put myself out there like this, but obviously I didn’t. I really want the reader’s story to help someone or make them feel like they’re not alone because anxiety can make you feel so isolated at times. So to the person reading this right now, to the person with anxiety or depression or whatever: You are not alone. You will never be alone. And I hope this story shows you that somehow. 

          series masterlist — masterlist — add yourself to my taglist!

Tortoise shell glasses the color of honey inched their way down the bridge of your nose again and you would’ve been greatly annoyed if your glazed-over eyes weren’t focused on the large plastic cup of coffee on the table. Fingers still tensed and poised over the laptops keyboard, your attention had shifted for the millionth time to the dark browns streaking through the blonde colored liquid at the bottom and your fried out brain was mesmerized by it. Anything was more intriguing than the open, half-way completed book review on your computer screen where the blinking cursor taunted you from the corner of your eye. At your wits end, you turned away completely with a groan that you stifled with a hopefully motivating gulp of your iced cold brew swirled with caramel.

Shoving the frames further up your nose where they belonged, you nursed the straw of your coffee between your tongue and teeth and glanced briefly about the room. The Learning Commons was fairly full for ten in the morning, but you weren’t too surprised; it was the go-to place to go — not only to get coursework done, but also to just unwind and mess around. That Friday morning hadn’t been any different from the rest and bleary-eyed college students milled about, drinking their caffeine from the God-sent Starbucks in the building and chatting to their friends through sleepy slurs. For a person who really enjoyed people-watching, the Learning Commons was the prime place for you to spend most of your time. You blended in and fell into the shadows just as you liked.

Blinking twice, you realized you had zoned out again. Your vision focused and you saw you had been staring blankly across the room at a boy drooling all over his open textbook. His slackened grip around his mechanical pencil kept allowing it to fall over in his hand, rousing him each time for only a few seconds and then he was out cold again. The sight made you laugh under your breath and you impulsively tipped your head back onto your roommate’s thigh from where she was sprawled out on the couch behind you. Just as you wanted, Scout’s fingers that had been raking through your hair stilled to let you know you had her attention.

“Look,” You said loud enough for her to hear over the raucous youths around you and discreetly pointed across the way at the sleepy boy. “That’s about to be me if I don’t get this paper done soon, I swear to everything Holy.”

A snort exploded through her nostrils and your head jostled with the movements of her leg kicking the guy whose lap they rested in. 

“Jude.” 

Another harsh nudge to his thigh and the frustrated boy mashed a button on his video game controller, a ‘paused’ message appearing on the flat screen TV. A harsh, pointed look urged her to continue so he could get back to his game. 

“That guy over there looks just like you.”

When you glanced back over, the drooling guy had completely given up on at least attempting to remain upright to look like he was getting work done. His cheek was smashed against the pages of his book, pushing his lips out in a pucker face, and his wrecked hair stuck up at odd angles on his forehead. An unbridled bubble of laughter threatened to come up your throat and you had managed to contain it — until a little string of drool puddled on the paper his cheek rested upon. Both you and Scout shook with the force of your giggles and you briefly found yourself thinking that it probably wasn’t that funny, but to a sleep-deprived university student it was comedic gold.

Jude must’ve shoved Scout’s legs off his lap if the loud ‘thud!’ of her feet hitting the floor beside you were any indication. They came dangerously close to knocking over your cup of caffeine — the only thing getting you through the early hours of the morning — and you were quick to snatch it up, cradling it to your chest like a protective mother. Your look of disgust towards your two friends was completely ignored, overlooked by Scout’s cry of protest and Jude’s annoyed, but slightly amused, glare at the girl.

“That’s what you made me pause my game for?” He huffed, tugging his fingers through his dark tufts of hair.

She shrugged, a shit-eating grin on her face as she plopped her warm toned legs back onto his lap. “Y/n said it first, not me.”

You were mid-sip, a mouthful of bitter coffee coating your tongue when you squealed a close-mouthed noise of protest, widened eyes flickering between your friends. 

“I did not!” You cried once you’d successfully swallowed without choking. “I said that would be me if I didn’t finish my paper soon.”

“Lies,” Scout muttered.

Twisting your body to face her, the back of your hand smacked against her bare outer thigh, a loud and satisfying ‘smack!’ emitting from the harsh flesh on flesh contact. Your puppy dog eyes turned to Jude, bottom lip jutting out just slightly and he laughed, the action making his irises twinkle and scrunch closed.

“I’d never say that about you, J,” You said cutely.

He bumped his knee against your right shoulder lightly, jostling you to the side, and rolled his eyes but the tiny upwards lift to the corners of his mouth told you he was far from annoyed.

“Alright, alright, I believe you.” He groaned, quickly flicking his gaze back to the TV and unpausing his game. “Fuck you and your puppy eyes.”

Grinning triumphantly, you sipped your coffee happily and flopped back against the front of the couch. The sleeping computer screen on the coffee table immediately put a pin in your bubble of contentment, an instant frown replacing the bright smile on your lips. You set aside your half empty cup with a heavy sigh and swiped a finger along the smooth track-pad, waking it from its automatic sleep to tuck back into the four page book review for your U.S. History class. The cursor blinked approximately five or six times before you began to type, but you had barely written three words when the glass doors of the Learning Commons burst open and a group of rowdy boys piled through the entrance.

Well, you thought. Maybe just one more day of procrastinating won’t hurt.

A muffled groan sounded from Scout. “Great. Your frat brothers decided to grace us with their presence, J.”

Your fingers went slack over the lit up keys and you slouched defeatedly; at the rate you were going, the outcome of your paper was beginning to look more and more dim, but the fraternity boys couldn’t care less that some people were actually attempting to get their assignments done by their due dates. They joked and jostled each other and you kind of hoped they could feel the blazing burn of your laser-beam glare you shot their way, but their oblivious grins stuck a pin in your wishes. You watched them for a moment longer as they split off, some falling into the snack bar or coffee line while others drifted towards a vacant table or couch; you took that as your cue to pack up your things and traipse across campus to the library. (Why did you pick somewhere so loud to write a whole ass paper anyway?)

Scout managed to tear her attention from her phone long enough to notice you zipping up your bag and beginning to stand. 

She quirked a perfectly shaped brow and asked, “Where are you going? It’s only 10:30; our Psych class isn’t until 12.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I wasn’t aware that the class I’ve been going to every Friday for a month now doesn’t start until 12,” You bit back with the most deadpan tone you could muster.

Jude snorted without taking his eyes off the TV, his fingers never ceasing their rapid movements between buttons on the game controller. Scout responded with a swift kick to said controller (which earned her a string of expletives as he fumbled to retrieve it off the floor) and waggled a chipped nail-polished finger at you.

“First of all, the ‘tude is not appreciated and second, both of your friends are sitting right here so my question is very valid.”

“Okay, rude.” You pouted sulkily as you gathered your hair to tie it up into a bun with the velvety pink scrunchie on your wrist. “And if you must know, I’m going to the library because it’s way too loud in here to write a paper.”

“Ugh.” Scout groaned and threw her legs off the side of the couch, rolling off onto the floor in the most ungraceful maneuver you’d ever witnessed in your life. “I guess I’ll go with you. I still haven’t finished that Biology worksheet due today.”

“Really?” You inquired absentmindedly as you fiddled with your messy bun in the reflection on your darkened phone screen. (She was taking forever and you needed something to do so you didn’t look like a complete moron.) “I finished it like the day she handed it out last week.”

You didn’t even have to look over at the caramel-skinned girl to know that she had rolled her eyes hard enough to get stuck inside her head. “Literally no one asked,” She retorted.

“Mmm, and to think I was actually going to give you all the answers..”

Just as you watched her expression morph into a sickly sweet one, a shrill whistle cut through every conversation in the room. The loud chattering of college students died down to muted whispers until the only distinguishable sounds were the whirring of the old air conditioning unit in the building and the clambering of shoes against wood; once you turned away from Scout you saw that the latter had come from a blonde boy in basketball shorts standing on a table in the center of the room. Kappa Sigma was emblazoned proudly across the chest of the scarlet colored hoodie he wore and you fought the urge to roll your eyes because of course he was in a fraternity.

The blonde frat boy’s voice faintly resonated in your ears, but you turned away from his dramatic display anyway to latch onto the sleeve of Scout’s over-sized Harvard University t-shirt. You insistently tugged on the crimson colored material because you really just wanted to get a head-start on your paper. Instead of relenting and following you, she simply shrugged you off and it was then that you got distracted with one look at a stupidly attractive guy in a stupidly, tight t-shirt.

If you had ever seen someone who was truly poured into a shirt it was this guy. The gray material was stretched taut across his pectorals and abdomen, dipping and curling into each chiseled line on his body. The stitching around the short sleeves looked two seconds away from ripping open as his biceps bulged from the way he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. You didn’t think the view could get any better until your eyes slid further up to a jawline that could probably cut straight through glass and to top it off, a head full of effortless curls—your ultimate weakness. You were pretty sure you were gaping open-mouthed at him at that point, but it wasn’t everyday that you saw a real life fucking angel on campus.

So yes, you gaped at him. Proudly.

Until you were caught...which you were seconds later.

Your heart dipped dangerously low in your chest and for a moment it felt like the warm blood in your veins had turned to ice. That feeling of sudden panic from such a cute guy looking at you prompted you to swiftly turn away; the cold you had felt literal seconds prior shifted to an uncomfortable warmth as the shock of being caught staring shifted to embarrassment. Your brain raced almost as quickly as your heart and you tried to pretend to focus on the blonde guy standing on a table to calm down, but then you made the dumb decision to sneak another peek.

Big, big mistake on your part.

Insanely hot frat guy was still looking at you. Not only was he still staring, but the beginnings of a smirk were forming on his pink lips and maybe he was not-so-subtly flexing his biceps. Seeing the corded muscles ripple and bulge under his tan skin truly was entrancing and if Scout hadn’t grabbed you by the material of your sweatshirt you would’ve stood and stared for a little bit longer.

Fingers snapped in front of your face and you blinked once, twice, three times before she really came into focus. She shot you a funny look and asked, “Seriously, what were you staring at?” She followed your gaze when your eyes instinctively shot back towards the insanely hot frat guy—who had thankfully looked away. “What is wrong with y—ohhh.”

A shit-eating grin stretched across her face and you immediately groaned. “Don’t start, okay?” You grumbled and finally managed to pull her towards the glass double doors. “He’s stupid hot and I was respectfully looking.”

Scout snorted from behind you as you held the door for her, both of you stepping outside and beginning the trek across campus to the library.

“You were point two seconds away from drooling,” She teased, bumping your arm with her elbow.

You felt the heat tickling at your cheeks and ears again, so you quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway,” You said pointedly, shooting her a look that could kill. “What was that whole ‘getting on the table’ display about?”

“Right. I forgot you were a little... preoccupied.” She smirked and dodged your incoming fist, giggling like a maniac. “Okay, okay! There’s a party at the Kappa Sigma house tonight.”

Scrunching your nose up at the mention of a party, you tossed your empty cup of iced coffee in a trash bin as you passed.

“Well, I have a hot date with Doctor McDreamy and I can’t miss it. You know how much I love me some Derek Shepherd.”

Just as you reached for the door handle to the library, she smacked your hand away with a serious expression.

“C’mon!” She whined, her bottom lip jutting out like a child. “You’ve never been to a party with me. It’ll be fun!”

“My definition of ‘fun’ is very different from yours, Scout.”

A sly smile turned her full lips upwards again. “Tom will be there…”

Your brows furrowed as you wracked your brain to put a name to a face. Tom. Did you know a Tom?

“Um. Am I supposed to know who that is?” You asked cluelessly.

Scout groaned. “Tom Holland. The guy you were ogling in the LC,” She explained with a ‘duh’ tone in her voice.

Absentmindedly you fiddled with the strap of your shoulder bag. You were already growing tired of the conversation and wished she’d just drop it; if anyone knew your anxiety situation, it was her and you thought she’d learned by now that you would never set foot in a party. Attending a frat party of all things was sure to bring on a panic attack and you’d rather not hyperventilate in front of a bunch of testosterone-filled college guys. No way in hell.

Exhaling an exasperated sigh, you shifted on your feet tiredly and let your head fall back towards the sky.

“Is that supposed to convince me?” You shifted around your friend and managed to snag the door open before she could stop you. “Because it’s not working.”

Save for a girl lightly snoring on one of the couches and a guy wearing glasses slaving over his keyboard, the library was practically barren. You immediately felt comforted as you traipsed along the outskirts of the large room, like a warm hug after coming home from a long day; except it was barely after eleven in the morning and you were ashamed to admit that you already needed comforting. Whilst another large exhale huffed past your lips at the thought, you dropped your bag down on the worn cushions of a couch pushed under a window and plopped yourself next to it rather ungracefully.

A rather loud thump resounded through the room as Scout carelessly deposited her own things on the floor by a comfortable looking arm chair; she simply shrugged at your warning glance, mumbling “those two are dead to the world anyway” under her breath and turned to pull a black binder from her backpack.

Soon, the silence between you two was filled with the clicking of your fingers across the keys on your laptop and the scratching of her mechanical pencil on paper. It was nice—relaxing even—and you sunk further into the soft couch that hugged your body, your mind only filled with the words you needed to get down to finish your stupid book review.

What kind of history class has to write a book review anyway? This wasn’t English.

You should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

A small wad of balled up notebook paper hit your left cheek, bouncing off and into the crack between the cushions. Before you could retort, she was already whispering vehemently.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the party.” She stabbed her pencil in your direction as she spoke. “You’re going. Plus, I’ll be with you the whole night. Promise.”

Arguing with Scout was like arguing with a brick wall—pointless and you’d never win and you honestly just wanted her to shut up at this point; so even though the idea of standing in the Kappa Sigma frat house while the plaster walls vibrated and bodies jostled around you almost made you want to throw up, you reluctantly agreed to go with her. You tried to convince yourself it wouldn’t be so bad, that your best friend would be at your side the entire night, but you still couldn’t shake the butterflies in your belly the entire day.

Just as you’d expected, you were pretty sure you were this close to blowing chunks in Kappa Sigma’s bushes.

The lawn was crawling with college students bearing drinks and you were thrown into the middle of them, one hand clasped in Scout’s as she led you up to the porch and the other anxiously fiddling with the hem of your gingham printed shorts. You were hyper aware of everything happening around you: knocking shoulders with a short, blonde girl, the loud shouts over a game of flip cup, the bass of the song playing in your chest, and a putrid, skunk-like smell that caught in your lungs no matter what you did. Already you wanted to leave, but one look at your best friend’s excited face had you willing yourself to suck it up and try to have fun.

Clutching onto Scout’s hand like it was your only lifeline, she guided you through the foyer and an expansive dining room before reaching the kitchen and the pressure in your chest lifted enough to calm your racing heart; it was significantly less crowded, only inhabited by a small group of girls and a guy with his head stuck in the refrigerator. You watched as Scout paid none of them any mind and instead helped herself to two red solo cups, pointing the nozzle to the keg in one and letting it fill with the sepia toned beer before doing the same with the other cup.

You had just opened your mouth to protest, but the look she shot you had the words dying in your throat.

“Just trust me, alright?” She said and you let her shove the full cup into your hand. “It’ll help with your nerves.”

For a brief second your gaze flickered to the group of three girls seated at the kitchen island, all huddled together and speaking in low tones. It made your skin prickle and heat up and you wondered if they were talking about you—how out of place you seemed.

The white brim of your cup slotted between your glossed-up lips and you took a hefty swig. You immediately scrunched your face up in disgust at the bitter, watery taste of the ale but you were willing to down it if it drowned out your impending anxiety for the night.

“Ugh.” You cringed and peered at the frothy beer in distaste. “How do you drink this shit?”

Scout just grinned and raised her beer in the air.

“Cheers bitch,” She hummed and downed a gulp big enough to puff out her cheeks with the liquid. “Now drink up.”

So, you did cautiously while she retrieved her phone from her back pocket; you distantly heard her say the words “text” and “Jude” but you were more focused on the guy leaning against the counter a few steps away. It was the same guy who’d been rummaging in the fridge when you came in and it appeared he’d found what he wanted: a bottle of Michelob Ultra that he held by the neck. His other hand was occupied by his phone, his head tilted downwards as he scrolled with his thumb, but then he tipped it back to sip his drink and your heart plummeted.

You wasted no time grabbing Scout by her bicep to get her attention.

“Don’t look now but super hot frat guy, Tom, is literally right there,” You whispered frantically through gritted teeth and tugged her towards the exit.

Of course, she resisted. The “don’t look now” part of your sentence slipped in one ear and out the other because she turned back to glance at him with the subtlety of a hand grenade. Her small squeal had you yanking her back around, your stomach rolling with enough nerves to make you vomit for real this time.

“I literally just said—”

Just after the words left your mouth, Jude sauntered into the kitchen, loudly exclaiming: “Tom, man, how long does it take to get a drink?” Then, his six-foot-three hulking physique lumbered towards you and Scout—which effectively made Tom’s dark brown irises lock onto you. “And why have you guys not answered my texts? We’re about to start another round of flip cup.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes and you wished you were dead. You knew you should’ve stayed in the safety of your dorm with Meredith Grey and Derek Shepherd. Why didn’t you?

Maybe it was because you were the biggest pushover on campus?

Yeah, that had to be it.

“Sorry, mate.” Tom didn’t glance away from you as he spoke. You noticed a smirk playing at his thin lips before it was covered by the open top of his beer bottle when he took a drag. “I guess I got a little... distracted.”

His little jab at you didn’t go unnoticed.

Yep, he definitely recognized you from earlier in the day when you practically undressed him.

Deep down you knew he was just messing with you, but you couldn’t help feeling humiliated—like you were the center of a joke and not the kind of joke where he was laughing with you; suddenly overcome with a need to escape, you ignored his remark and turned to Scout and Jude instead.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom or step outside really quick.”

You barely heard her concerned voice asking if you wanted her to come with you before you were high-tailing it out of the room and up the dark wooden stairs in the foyer. You took them two at a time and in your haste to ascend them, the smelly beer in your still-full-to-the-brim cup sloshed over the rim and saturated the front of your black shirt and flowy shorts. Your face contorted in discomfort at the feeling of your wet clothes sticking to your skin as you slowed down, reaching the top floor at a more careful pace. The paranoid feeling that everyone was watching you make a fool of yourself began to set in and just as your breathing started to escalate, you ducked into the first bedroom you saw and quickly shut it with a click.

Absentmindedly, you sat your now half empty beer cup on the dresser by the door and slumped back against the wood. The cold doorknob pressed into the bottom of your spine but you didn’t care because all you could think about was the soaked fabric clinging to your front, Tom’s subtle mocking comment, and the feeling you’d felt coming up the steps.

In the back of your mind you knew how dramatic and blown out of proportion you were acting; your anxiety, however, didn’t get the memo. So there you were, panting and quivering in some random frat guy’s room with tears pooling at your lash line. You were beginning to feel nauseous lurches in your stomach and all you wanted was to go home.

You’d never wanted to be here in the first place.

An uncomfortable warmth bloomed in your chest around your heart—a feeling you were all too familiar with. If you had to guess, you assumed it was the way a heart attack might feel. You were panicking for absolutely no reason at all and all that you knew was that you needed to get out of here.

With shaky hands, you pulled your phone out of your bra and wiped away the sticky residue from the beer before composing a new text to Scout.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i feel sick. i think i’m gonna head back to our dorm

Then, feeling inexplicably guilty for not even trying, you typed again as your tears left splotches on your screen.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i’m really sorry

The click of your phone locking sounded like a blaring horn to your over-sensitized body and you slumped tiredly into a desk chair, shoving your phone somewhere on the desk carelessly. You were still shaking and you didn’t know if you were cold or hot and bile had started to burn your throat and in your hazy mind you swore you heard the doorknob turning but who knows?

“Uh, what the fuck are you doing in my room?”

If you thought you were going to throw up before then you definitely were now.

You grabbed the trash bin beside the desk and hung your head over it, the contents of the day emptying from your anxious stomach.

“Christ,” The guy grumbled in annoyance. Didn’t you know that voice from somewhere? “Of course. A drunk girl chooses my room to throw up in out of all the fuckin’ other rooms in this house.”

Shame crept up your neck and made you feel even hotter than you already were. You felt like such a mess—you reeked of alcohol, your hair was damp from a cold-sweat, and a stranger had just witnessed you puking your guts out. Great.

You couldn’t speak. All you could do was take shaky, staggered breaths and sniffle through your tears but you did manage to see who the mean guy in the room with you was. Just as your luck would have it, the guy whose bedroom you’d taken hostage in was none other than Tom Holland.

Your stomach twisted and again you ducked your head back in the bin to puke some more.

“Look. I’m sorry you feel like shit and drank too much but you’ve gotta get outta here.” You felt his large, strong hand curl around your bare bicep to tug you up out of his chair. “C’mon. Time to go.”

It was at that moment Tom finally noticed three things: that you were the girl from earlier in the LC, then again in the frat’s kitchen, that you were shaking like a leaf against him, and that you were struggling to breathe normally. It was clear to him you weren’t throwing up because you were drunk; you were throwing up because you were having a full-blown panic attack.

In his bedroom.

And he’d been nothing but a dick to you so far.

“Woah, hey, hey,” He murmured softly, his voice taking on a much gentler tone. Delicately, he brushed the sweaty hair from your warm cheeks and allowed one of his palms to meet the small of your back. “It’s okay. You’re alright, darlin’.”

You focused all your attention on the quiet hum of his voice in your right ear and the silver cross necklace rising and falling on his chest with each breath. You tried to sync your breaths with his even, steady ones and although it took awhile, you managed to calm yourself down to a non-hysterical state.

Tom’s fingers, however, never faltered in their dance along your spine. “Good girl,” He hummed soothingly.

Tingles tickled at each of your vertebrae.

Good girl. Was he trying to kill you?

Clearing your throat, you set the trash bin beside the desk where it lived and stood up to move closer to the door and away from Tom. You were pretty sure you’d embarrassed yourself in front of a hot guy enough for one day and didn’t want to do anything rash...like jump his bones for calling you a good girl.

You felt yourself getting hot again.

“I’m sorry.” You fiddled with the damp hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “I just...needed some air and then I spilt beer all over myself and—yeah.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” He shrugged like a girl having a panic attack in his room was normal, then gestured to your ruined outfit. “I’ve got some stuff you can borrow if you want.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay, really—”

“C’mon. That can’t be comfortable,” He said with a raised brow. He was already rummaging through his dresser drawers before you could protest anymore. “Let me help you out, alright? I’ve already been the biggest dick to you tonight.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you took the clean clothes from his outstretched hand and sent him an awkward smile.

“Thanks. I’ll, um, get these back to you. Sometime.”

He grinned at how awkward and fumbly you were. It was cute. He liked that he was the cause of it.

“Sounds like a pretty good plan to me,” He agreed cheekily, unable to hide the smile on his lips. “Gives me an excuse to see you again, huh, darlin’?”

Oh.

This boy was definitely trying to make you explode and you were two seconds away from doing so, sweat pooling even quicker in areas you didn’t even want to fathom.

Thankfully, before you had the chance to embarrass yourself any further, Tom turned his back on you, chuckling lowly under his breath and urged you to get changed.

As you toed out of your high-tops and peeled your sticky, black shirt from your torso, your attention wavered just as you reached for his heather grey t-shirt. You distractedly grasped the soft material to put it on, but you were too entranced by Tom’s back muscles through his own shirt to follow through.

The fabric was stretched taut over the expanse of his broad shoulders and every little movement allowed you to see the rippling muscle that was underneath it. Your fingers itched to slip under his shirt and feel his toned back for yourself, to lightly dig your n—

“Jude said your friend is waitin’ for you on the porch.” His English twang had you throwing the clean clothes on hastily before he turned back around. “I’ll walk you down.”

All you wanted was to get out of this frat house and into your shower as quickly as possible so you agreed even though you felt like your insides were on fire.

You gathered your dirty clothes and hooked your fingertips into the canvas backs of your shoes before you were ushered out into the corridor. The party seemed to have thinned out a considerable amount with only the occasional person loitering about on the second floor; the thought of someone seeing you with Tom’s baggy clothes on made your cheeks flush and you tilted your head down towards the floor, avoiding anyone’s curious eye. To your anxious mind, it felt like everyone was watching you and Tom descend the grand stairs in the fraternity’s house so you held your gaze with the dark hardwood floor the entire trek to the porch.

His warm palm met the small of your back for the second time that night and you cautiously glanced up into his dark brown irises. You were surprised to see the incredibly soft edge they had taken on and even more surprised by the way your spine instinctively arched against his hand.

A guy had never touched you like this before—it felt intimate and tender and you were a stranger to it.

“Hey.” He had to stoop down towards your ear so you could hear him over the still-blaring music. His breath tickled your neck and his bottom lip brushed the tip of your ear. You couldn’t stop from shivering. “Are you alright?”

No, you weren’t. He was really, really close and your heart was beating dangerously fast again.

“Yeah,” You breathed in reassurance, pushing what you hoped was a convincing smile. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

He didn’t look completely convinced. However, he didn’t push the subject further and you were grateful.

“Alright.” He nodded and it was silent for a split second until you both reached the front door. “You look beautiful in my clothes by the way.”

And then Tom was pushing open the door and there on the porch like he said was a worried Scout. Thankfully, she was way too preoccupied with hurtling questions of “are you okay?” and “what happened?” for her to notice the way your skin was flushed and how you couldn’t quite look anyone in the eye.

The weight of the fingers splayed along the base of your spine disappeared as Scout swept you away from Tom and into her crushing embrace.

“Oh my God!” She shrieked as she hugged you to her, your bundle of clothes and shoes between you digging into your stomach. “You scared the hell out of me. Did you fall in the toilet or something?”

For the first time in what felt like forever, a small snort of a laugh left your throat.

“I’m fine,” You reassured and tangled your digits with hers, tugging her down the porch stairs with you. “And no, I didn’t ‘fall in the toilet.’ I just want to go home and drown myself in the shower.”

“Good. You smell like shit.” Her nose wrinkled. “And please enlighten me on how you ended up in Tom fucking Holland’s bedroom.”

You laughed again and spared a glance over your shoulder.

Tom still stood on the porch, readjusting his backwards hat over his brunette curls. You caught the little smirk on his lips and you swore he winked before Scout was tugging you further up the sidewalk and you were forced to turn back around.

Every inch of your body tingled.

It wasn’t until you stood under the shower head’s chilly spray of water back in your residence hall that you realized you’d left your phone in Tom’s room.

TOM TAGLIST:

@xoxohollands​ ♡ @outshineallthestars​ ♡ @pcterparxer​ ♡ @worldoftom​ ♡ 

RETROGRADE ONLY TAGLIST:

@softholand​ ♡ @sushiinmidnight​ ♡ @stuckonspidey​ ♡