#been too getting caught up in how fun sting &co are to write to work towards this important characterization thing lol

[cospinol]

nano week one wrapup time! (*´꒳`*) frankly a slightly harrowing start, just in terms of spending 3-4 solid days doing nothing but moving the two parts of the intro chapter back and forth and back and forth and also completely overhauling the basic concepts of the meetcute and actual plot setup while I was at it. it’s still a pretty bad chapter (and I think a lot of the info in it is not even necessarily correct vis à vis current plot direction, idk that the description of naga’s actions in it makes sense so we might need another pass to take that out entirely… I was attached to him being the thing that motivates Hyou to take the job at all but since the rest of the setup has leaned into the whole situation being mere’s fault exclusively and naga doesn’t appear onscreen it might be better just to cut him entirely) and at some point I’ll probably go back to move the middle flashback section to the beginning again but At Least It’s Done Enough -_-b I was also hoping to make it to the first crime scene scene today and did not, but we at least got thru the last convo at the base and are on the way there, which is the last point we had to clear to be free of the absolutely minuscule ‘intro’ portion of the outline. large parts of the outline may still have to be rewritten if I keep feeling this iffy abt writing the stupid court martial scene though. bwaaa

[scenetocause]

unexpected girl!george/lando i have no memory of whatsoever?

Would love to hear about this! <3

so i have no idea what the real origins of this is and it's a bit angsty or at least, less straightforward than most things i write. basically george is a girl and lando and her are fucking, on a semi-casual basis but lando's clearly fallen for her quite hard because of who he is as a person. and she's a little bit in denial about how much she likes him because she's george and a control freak.

and idk why i wanted to write this but george ends up pregnant and it sends her nuts because she does not want to admit this has happened and especially not with lando but she's also george and a control freak and she doesn't want to get rid of it. or really have lando as a co-parent.

they kind of have to work it out from this vague situationship to something practical and manage both of their expectations and wants. especially when lando wants to protect her and she doesn't want anyone to find out it's his.

there's a lot of very formal sending him ultrasound pictures and getting sort of helpless semi-incoherent replies and george trying to make sure she'll be back straight away because antonelli isn't taking her seat. they don't magically fall into a happy ever after because they accidentally have a baby not-really-together but they explore what it means for them.

george eventually gets over how embarrassing it is she's let fucking lando knock her up and lando has to accept that how she wants to do this is in her hands, that they probably won't end up together and if he wants a nuclear family, it'll be with someone else. who'll have to tolerate that he also has a semi-secret child with a sort-of-colleague. and things aren't straightforward but they're ok, in the end.

She knows it’s not the best look, after all that hard work in the junior categories and when she was at Williams, that the second she got the Mercedes seat she started shagging a competitor. 

Well, not the very second. It was Australia, actually, which is weeks into the calendar. And they only got to second base, there, Lando’s warm palm cupping her right tit through her thermals while they made out behind the portaloos. Didn’t properly shag until Monaco, so no one can say she rushed into bed with him and anyway, it’s none of their business.

“Georgie, really?” Had been Alex’s response, laughing. 

“Well it’s not like I can go out with you, can I?” It’s a tiny little bit of a sting, that Alex chose Lily when George has always been right there. But maybe they could never have worked anyway, too settled in their friendship to have any real chemistry. 

Anyway, it was just a bit of fun. Because George had broken up with Ralf, some weird tension about them since he moved to running teams not driving for them. And Lando had been nursing his first ever heartbreak after fucking it up with she-who’d-seemed-perfectly-nice-but-George-prefers-not-to-think-about-now so it was good to have an understanding, not worried about either of them telling the Sun what they were like in bed or whatever. 

And Lando’s quite sweet, actually. Sort of romantic, acts a bit like they’re actually dating not just fucking after media day. George always makes sure they leave and arrive separately, can’t be caught together but he’s perfectly polite, as blokes go and trims his pubes and things, doesn’t make a fuss about trying to stick it up her arse like that kind-of fit guy from IWC.

Still, it does occasionally attract questions she’d rather not answer. 

“Lando, huh?” Lewis isn’t really how she’d expected him. He’s a bit - messy isn’t quite the right word but she always knows what’s going on with him, moods very visible and he’s not as strictly professional as she’d expected. 

Sometimes she thinks they could probably fuck, if she wanted. It’s a bit of a relief to her when she decides she doesn’t, can put that one well away. 

“What about him?” It’s endlessly frustrating that when she goes for nonchalant she always sounds a bit panicked, high pitch for some reason. 

Lewis narrows his eyes at her, half-laughing. “Oh, ok.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” George tries.

“Uh-huh, sure.” Lewis stretches in his seat, reaches for a fresh pile of cards to sign. “My room’s next to yours, by the way.”

[darkmulti]

hi, can you write yandere! bts reaction to you slapping them in an argument please?

⚠️: Yandere!BTS, slapping, implied smut, manipulation

-> sorry for any mistakes

»»———————————- ♔ -———————————««

Jin

Jin was once again, being narrow minded. “It was for work, Jin! I wasn’t working with him for fun, it’s our job. I can’t believe you punched him in the face. You embarrassed me in front of everyone!”

“Great! If you’re embarrassed, quit your job! So you never have to see them again!

“I’m not quitting! You can get that out of your head! I would leave you before quitting-” a hard slap cut you off. You instinctively covered your stinging cheek and took a step back. You were in a state of shock. Yes, you and Jin had petty arguments here and there but they never got physical. By the end of the day, you guys worked it out. However, after he laid his hand on you, you knew it was over. You looked up at him and slapped him right back. “Fuck you! We’re over.”

You turned around and ran upstairs to your shared bedroom. This house was under Jin’s name so it was you who has to go. You grabbed your suitcase and started packing all your clothes. Jin rushed into the shared room and pulled your suitcase away. He dumped all the clothes on the ground and threw the suitcase across the room.

“You’re not fucking leaving! Hang up all these clothes. Stop overreacting like a pathetic little bitch.”

You scoff and get off the floor. “I’m a ‘pathetic little bitch’?! Says my insecure husband.”

“You won’t be able to survive without me. No other man would be able to spoil you like I do. I’ve given you the high life, now obey me in return.”

“I’m not your slave, I don’t have to fucking listen to you.”

“Do you pay the bills in this house?! Do you buy the groceries?! Do you pay for insurance?! No? Then, shut up. You wouldn’t have anything if it weren’t for me. You’d probably be living on the streets if I didn’t take you in. I was the one who made sure you got that job because I knew it would make you happy. If it weren’t for me, those guys would’ve laughed in your face, Y/N. All you do is go to work, flirt with your co-workers and act all big shot around me. The least you could do is respect me and our relationship.” With that, he slammed the door shut, leaving you alone while you questioned your worth.

Yoongi

It started off as a calm and quiet evening but as soon as your phone vibrated, it quickly changed.

You began working for a new company and your new boss has been up your ass. He treats you like a personal assistant and it was pissing you off. You noticed that you were the only one who was being treated like this and it angered you. Once you’re clocked out, you don’t like to be disturbed unless it’s urgent. But your boss doesn’t seem to understand that and asks you to do work while your clocked out. You obviously refuse because why should you do work if you’re not getting paid?

Anyways, he’s always texting you about how to do different kinds of paper work, who’s working, who’s not working, how to hire people, ect — he should know how to do all of it because he’s the boss. When your off work, he’s texting you ever 10-15 minutes, asking for help. You’re tired of it, but can’t really do anything about it. You can’t quit just yet because you’re trying to prove to your boyfriend that you don’t need him to survive.

Yoongi has always underestimated you. Man literally thinks that you’re dumb. One night, you both got into a heated argument and he told you that you wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him. The very next day, you went to a bunch of job interviews and got hired on that same day.

It’s been two weeks at your new job and ever since, your phone is always blowing up thanks to your boss. Even at 10pm, your boss is texting you about work. Yoongi became annoyed because you were always on your phone. You guys got into another argument about this so now, you hide your phone from him so he can’t see the notifications.

Ever since then, things have been a little better. Tonight was movie night and you foolishly had your phone in your hand. Throughout the movie, your phone was lighting up and vibrating multiple times and a Yoongi was tired of it.

“Who the hell are you texting now?!” He snatched your phone out of your hands and when he saw that it was your boss, he threw your phone against the wall. “I told you to block that man! Yet, you go against me and continue to text him! Are you sleeping with him? Are you cheating on me with him?!” He screamed, making your heart leap out of your chest.

You didn’t say anything. Instead you ran to the door. You didn’t want to deal with him anymore. You deserved better. You tried to leave but he slammed the door on your fingers and pulled you back inside. You slapped his face and tried leaving again but he grabbed your hair and pulled you down to the basement.

“You made me do this to you. I warned you plenty of times to stay off your phone but do you listen to me? No. I’ve given you too much freedom and now you don’t know how to behave. That stops now.”

Hoseok

“Get up. Boss wants to see you.” The guards said, pulling you up by your arms and dragging you out of the cell. “Boss my asshole. Who does he think he is? Kidnapping me for no good reason. I just wanted coffee and now I’m god knows where!” The guard chuckles at your bratty behaviour. “Just a little advice, don’t talk to boss like that. He’ll blow your brains out.”

“Shut up, muscle head. Don’t tell me what to do.” The guard stops and aims a gun at your head. “Do it muscle head. Your boss will be so proud of you.” You said sarcastically. “Shut your mouth and keep walking. I may not be allowed to kill you but I can still still hurt you — really badly.”

“Are you threatening me muscle head?” You turn around, ready to scrap with the guard. He may be a lot bigger than you, but you’re a lot smarter and clever.

“Hey, hey, do we have a problem here?” A familiar voice interrupted. You turn around and your heart drops when you see his face. “No, boss. She’s just refusing to-”

“Hoseok?” You cut the guard off and step back. “Oh, so you still remember me?” He smirks and walks towards you but you keep walking back. “What do you want from me?”

“Isn’t the answer obvious? I want you back.”

“No! I broke up with you because you’re crazy. Leave me alone now. I’m a different person. I’m not the same Y/N that you manipulated and controlled. I left her behind. Now let me go!”

Hoseok cornered you. There was no where to run. “Are you sure that you left her behind? You’re claiming that you changed but you’re still very naive, darling.”

His words made your blood boil. Hoseok mentally and emotionally abused you. With the help of therapy, you were able to pick up and put your broken self together. You thought that you’ve become a stronger person, but as soon as you saw his face, your confidence was washed away.

“I- I told you, I’m different now!” You tried to sound brave, but your facial expression sold you out. Hoseok wasn’t dumb; he knew you were scared shitless. “So, show me that your a different person. How will you escape me this time, darling?” He traps you in between his arms and leans in close to your face. In a panic, you slapped him across the face and made a run for it.

You somehow managed to get out of his large mansion, but Hoseok was running after you the whole time. You tried losing him at sharp turns and big crowds, but he was right on your ass. You saw a security guard and bolted towards him. “Sir, sir! There’s a- a man...” you said, to catch your breath, “a man chasing me. He kidnapped me. Please, I need your help.”

“That’s enough darling.” Hoseok caught up to you and without a second thought, you hid behind the security guard. “Sir, please! Arrest this man! He kidnapped me!”

The security guard was ready to take action until he saw the man’s face. “M-mr. Jung?! Sir, I had no idea that she was running from you! Sir, I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” The guard grabbed your arm and pushed you to Hoseok.

The commotion had everyone watching. The security guard was on his knees with his hands interlocked together. “Please spare my family and I. Mr. Jung it was an honest mistake.”

“What the hell?” You quietly muttered. “You see that, darling. Everyone is afraid of me. So you can run all you want, but you can never ever hide from me.”

Namjoon

After a long week of work, your husband wanted to treat you to dinner. You’ve both been extremely busy due to your hectic schedule and it’s caused you both to drift apart. The only time you see Namjoon is in the morning and before going to bed.

It was Friday evening and you were getting ready for date night. You wore a gorgeous dress that was somewhat revealing but you were fine with it. You just wanted to look good for your husband.

You both agreed to meet at the restaurant and when Namjoon saw you, his jaw dropped. He possessively wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you to your private table. It was outside on a balcony. You guys had an ocean view, the weather was perfect and the stars were out. It was super romantic.

The date was perfect until the waiter started checking you out. Namjoon was visibly annoyed by the waiter but kept it to himself until he left. “Why did you have to wear that dress? Are you doing this on purpose? So other guys can check you out?” You were taken back by his questions. “No, I wore this dress for you, not for some random men.”

Namjoon scoffed and bit the inside of his cheek. “When will you stop lying?” He mumbled, but you were able to pick it up. “I’m not lying, Joon. And quite frankly, I’m hurt that you think I’m doing this for other men. You’re making me feel bad about myself.”

You got up and left but he followed behind. You walked out of the restaurant and got into your car. You drove back home without giving Namjoon a second glance. Once you arrived home, Namjoon pulled up next to your car. You both entered the house in silence.

Namjoon’s phone began ringing so, he went upstairs to answer it. After tidying the house, you went upstairs and overheard his conversation. “We could’ve had a wonderful night, but my wife doesn’t know how to dress.”

Now, he’s pissed you off. You slam open the room door, grab his phone and hang up. “Do you enjoy putting your own wife down?! Do you enjoy humiliating her?! I wore this dress for you! I wanted to look good for you! I wanted you to complement me and tell me I look pretty but instead you slut shame me!”

Out of anger, you slap him across the face. “I want a divorce. I’m not staying with someone who made me feel like complete shit. You can keep this house, I don’t want anything from you.”

Namjoon looked down and started to laugh. His laugh gradually got louder and it started to creep you out. You took a couple steps away from him but he noticed and grabbed your wrist. “You want a divorce? So you can go back to that restaurant and gets that waiters number? Over my dead body. You’re never leaving me. If I have to hurt you, I will.”

Jimin

“Jimin! Stop it! You’re overreacting!”

Jimin dragged you out of his friends house and pushed you into the car, creating a scene. Everyone was watching him degrade you for not wearing your wedding ring.

“You forgot?! What kind of wife do I have?! Are you dumb?! How could you forgot to wear your wedding ring?! That ring shows everyone that you’re mine!”

Jimin was full on screaming in your face and you couldn’t handle it. You broke down crying into your hands. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! It truly wasn’t my intention.” You were beyond terrified. You didn’t want to go home because you knew he would punish you. Even though he humiliated in front of everyone, you’d rather stay around people than go home and be alone with him.

You were about to go down on your knees until he slapped you and dragged you along. You tried getting out of his grip and in the process you accidentally slapped him. It wasn’t a hard slap or anything, you were just trying to get away. But of course, Jimin made it a big deal.

“First, you forgot your wedding ring; second, you flirted with all my friends and now, you slapped me?! Why don’t you want to leave, huh?! Who are you sleeping with?! Who are you trying to replace me with?!”

“No one! I didn’t mean to slap you! I’m sorry!” You were crying your eyes out. You’ve never seen Jimin this aggravated. You were afraid of what he might do to you so, you gave in because you didn’t want to worsen your punishment. He pushed you into the car and slammed the door shut. Throughout the car ride, his hand squeezed your thigh.

“You don’t even know what’s coming your way. Just wait till we get home” He muttered, causing your heart to drop into your stomach.

Taehyung

“Taehyung! Let me go! People are going to notice that I’m missing! You can’t keep me here forever!” You yelled, banging on the metal door.

It was your foolish mistake; trying to break up with him at his house. The moment you told him you want to part ways, he grabbed you and pushed you into the basement. Of course you fought back, but miserably lost against him. Now it was a game of waiting. Waiting for someone to notice your presence missing.

- 3 days later -

It been a couple days and you’re still locked in the basement. There was no clock or a window so you couldn’t keep track of time. Taehyung hadn’t come downstairs to check on you either. You were starving and living off the bathroom tap water. You were lying on the ground, looking lifeless when the heavy metal doors opened.

“Are you done playing your childish games?” Taehyung asked, crossing his arms. “You should be asking yourself that question, Taehyung. I’m not playing any games. I’m serious when I say I want out of this relationship.”

Taehyung closed the doors and walked towards you. He grabbed your shirt and pulled you close to his face. “All the years we spent together, you wanna throw it all away, angel?”

You turn your head away from him, avoiding his dark orbs. Taehyung noticed you avoiding his eyes so he pushed you against the wall and leaned in close to your face. “Look at me when I talk to you, angel. Or are you scared?” You were on the verge of tears but you didn’t want to appear weak in front of him. You looked him straight in the eyes and muttered, “get away from me.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, angel...” he grabbed your ear and tugged on it, “I’m your master. You listen to me.” His deep voice sent chills down your spine. You were close to dropping on your knees and submitting to him out of fear. But you didn’t. You couldn’t show him that you’re weak. “Taehyung, I’m serious! Get away from me!”

Taehyung frowned. You were really getting on his nerve. Was he not a good boyfriend? He spoiled you with gifts, spent all his time with you and he never cheated on you. What was he doing wrong? He thought to himself. “Why is my perfect, little, angel acting out? Look at me, angel. Tell me what I did wrong? Did you fall out of love? Did you find someone new?”

You look at him, dumbfounded. “Taehyung, you’re trying to control me! You’re making my decisions for me. I can’t go out alone, and if I do, you stalk me! Then you get possessive for no reason! You almost killed my bestfriend because he gave me a hug! You take things too far and you don’t trust me even after being together for years! You just want to control my life and feel like I’m suffocating when I’m with you.”

You could see fire in Taehyung’s eyes. He raised his hand, ready to slap you but before he could, you slapped him and ran for your life. You were light headed and weak, however if Taehyung finds you, you’ll face severe consequences.

Jungkook

Jungkook was going on and on about you going out with your male bestfriend.

You texted Jungkook last minute because you knew if you had told him earlier, he wouldn’t allow you to go. You simply messaged him, “I’m going out with Namjoon, I’ll be home by 6pm.”

Jungkook was livid. He called you multiple times but you were too scared to pick up. Finally, his 7th attempt was when you decided to pick up.

“Where the fuck are you?! I’m coming to pick you up right now.”

“Jungkook we just came to the restaurant, I’m not leaving.”

“Do you think it’s appropriate to go to a restaurant with another man?! What if people think you guys are dating, huh? You’re a fucking cheater. Tell me your location, now!”

“For the love of god, I’m not cheating on you! Namjoon and I have known each other since middle school. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you. We are nothing but friends.”

Jungkook was pissed. He hung up the phone and went home. He poured himself a glass of whiskey before sitting down on the couch. He was waiting for your arrival. It was 5:54pm when the front door opened. You were right on time.

“See, I told you I’d be back by 6pm. I don’t know why you have to make everything such a big deal.”

“While I’m working my ass off, you’re out with another man.” He said, putting the glass of whiskey down.

“I work too, Jungkook. And I’m a full time student. If you want to get even with me, go out with your female friends. I wouldn’t mind at all. As long as they remain friends.”

Jungkook stood up and starting walking towards you. “So, you can cheat, but I can’t?” A taunting smile took over his face.

“Again, Jungkook? I am not cheating on you! Namjoon is just my close friend. That’s all. Nothing more or less.” You said, crossing your arms and unconsciously stepping back.

“Stop lying. Just tell me now and maybe I’ll forgive you.” You scoff and roll your eyes. “I don’t have time to deal with you, Jungkook. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, because you were fucking around with Namjoon, right?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You turned around to leave but Jungkook pulled you back, harshly. Instinctively, your hand landed a heavy slap on his face. Unexpectedly, Jungkook slapped you right back — but a lot harder.

You winced as you held your warm cheek. Hot tears gliding down your face. Without thinking twice, you made a run for the door but Jungkook tackled you to the floor.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?!”

You can make your own ending:)

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's A Love Story, Baby

Summary: Secret relationships can be fun, but sometimes the love runs so deep that it’s just begging to get the spotlight. Love like that is difficult, but it’s the realest thing Spencer and Y/N have ever felt.

Pairing: Spencer Reid X GN Reader (this is my first time writing GN, so if anything seems to be gendered, PLEASE tell me)

Content Warning: Brief innuendo (like barely PG-13) but it's there if you think about it. Kissing...

I’m so so dumb. I forgot about the shower scene when I was writing the content warnings. I wrote 2 versions. So ugh. There’s a shower scene but it’s intimate and romantic rather than sexual.

Author’s Note: I don’t particularly like writing from a second person point of view, but please let me know what you think. I’m still learning & appreciate feedback.

Also..... this is my fic for @willowrose99 anniversary! so congrats!!

Word Count: 2.6

It's a Love Story, Baby

It was in the quiet moments in the early morning that always remind you of how much you love Spencer Reid. The morning light seemed to make him look even more beautiful than anyone could possibly be. You always marvel at how young he looks while he sleeps. His face isn’t contorted into a perplexed frown and his mind is at ease. You love every iteration of Spencer, but sleeping Spencer has to be your favorite.

It’s impossible, you know that, but still. You’ll tell yourself all these lies and will yourself to believe that it’s a Saturday. Any excuse to stay tangled in between the sheets with your chest pressed up to Spencer’s back and your arms hugging around his waist.

Reality, however, seems to have it out for the pair of you. The blaring alarm wakes you from your clandestine fairytale. It’s a signal that calls you and Spencer back to Earth. Even though it happens every morning, the crash from Paradise stings.

Spencer, his brown hair tousled and messy, groans as he puts his pillow over his head. You twist your body to turn off the alarm. For whatever reason, Spencer insisted that you use an old fashioned alarm clock; the kind that’s jarring and ridiculously loud.

“Y/N,” Spencer mumbles, his voice groggy and low. If you weren’t pressed for time, you’re sure that considering the way your name sounds from Spencer’s lips, you’d be spending more time in bed and less time sleeping.

“Spencer,” You tease back, dragging your hands under his pajama top. Spencer Reid has a lot of quirks, like the alarm clock, but the one you find most endearing is his affinity for matching pajama sets.

“Just stay a little longer, please. I can’t stand when you leave,” Spencer says, turning his head to look at you. You lay there in his bed, tempted to give into him. Tempted to stay in this little paradise that you carved out for yourselves.

“You know I’d love that more than anything,” You say, trying not to get swept up in the starry way Spencer gazes up at you, “but you promised me a picnic, Romeo and I want a picnic with my favorite person,”

“You brush your fingers across his face, committing him to memory for the days to come. Those sleepless nights where the only thing you want is to be in Spencer’s arms. Those dark moments on a case where you need to touch him, to touch something that’s so pure and good and kind. Those silent stares can only keep you at bay for so long.

He simply closes his eyes and swallows his words. Silently, he places a kiss on your forehead. It’s a light peck, but those are the ones that seem to be just dripping with love. But instead of his kiss leaving needing more, all you feel is guilt. Spencer doesn’t deserve to be loved in the shadows, but there you were kissing him with the guise of secrecy.

But maybe today was going to change that. Maybe you’ll be able to kiss Spencer in public and hold his hand. Or even stroke his hair as his head rests in your lap while he reads to you. All those normal couple activities were always just a grasp and a leap away. But the menacing foe of the FBI relationship rules proved to be a looming enemy.

“I’m going to shower,” Spencer says. His voice trails off, like he expects you to finish his sentence for him.

“Care if I join?” You ask, hoping that it’s what he wants too. His devilish grin is enough for you to stretch your back and scamper on into the bathroom with Spencer at your heels.

He likes undressing you more than any other man you’ve been with. He takes his time unbuttoning your pajama top. His fingers, though they look like they’d be rough and coarse, are soft and slip down to your hip bone, just grazing the skin. Spencer lets his fingers press a little harder, urging you to spin around so your back is up against his chest. He places wet kisses along the exposed skin of your shoulders; he’s more adventurous this morning. Spencer’s kisses are usually sweet, almost chaste. Usually the opposite of how his hands rank over your body or how his eyes look at you when you smile and writhe from his touch.

“I love when you steal my clothes, Y/N,” He says, his voice still a little husky and you don’t think it’s from the lack of sleep.

You close your eyes, as if eliminating one of your senses would heighten to ones that Spencer is letting on fire. Suddenly, his touch is gone and you feel a lot colder. He turns the water on in the shower and you take the opportunity to pay attention to him. He, much your disdain, dodges your kisses by getting under the warm water.

Spencer, gesturing for you to join him, lets his hands hover over your hips and up your arms. There’s isn’t a spot on your body that he hasn’t touched. Every piece of your being is open to Spencer’s love, but only in the quiet privacy of your apartments.

It’s hard to think about that, as he holds you in his arms. The warm water mixes with the way his chest presses up your back.

“What smell do you want?,” He asks, referring to the many bottles of shampoos, conditioners, and body washes. The citrus scents are yours while Spencer prefers this ridiculously expensive coconut and cinnonmen shampoo.

“Hmm, Meyer Lemon,” You day and Spencer grabs the shampoo and matching conditioner from the shower rack.

He squirts some shampoo on his hands and lathers it up before massaging it into your scalp. Spencer, if the BAU doesn’t pan out, should go into professional hair care. He’s got these long fingers that reach across the expanse of your scalp and come down to place pressure on your temples. You lay your head back, leaning against Spencer’s upper chest. You still marvel at how your head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck. It’s hard to feel bad for forcing him to love in private when his hands are all over your body, silently spilling his affections and feelings with every stroke against your back and every tender graze against your shoulder.

“Lean back to rinse,” He says quietly. Faithfully, you lean back and rinse your hair. Spencer’s fingers come to undo the knot and snags, his gentleness is indiscernible from his love.

Finally clean, you turn around to face Spencer. The water slaps against your back, it’s hot and stings but you don’t care. Spencer, so used to having to swallow his affection, tends to go a little overboard when he gets the chance to touch you and kiss you as you and him please. It’s like he’s making up for all the times when he wants to kiss you in the middle of the bullpen, but Emily's door is left open and she can hear everything from a mile away.

“Your turn, my dear,” you say, taking the opportunity to kiss Spencer's collarbones, up his neck, and over his jaw line. It’s a little absurd how pretty he is and totally unfair.

Spencer, not wanting to sacrifice a chance to kiss you, places needy kisses all over your face, except your lips. His goofy kisses send you into a fit of laughter. He seems so free like this, so unafraid to love.

Spencer turns around and crouches slightly, giving you full access to his hair. You lather up his shampoo and mirroring his actions, you massage the shampoo into his scalp. Early into your relationship, you found out that Spencer loves showers. It’s not surprising, he’s the cleanest person you know. But Spencer loves showering with you. There’s nothing sexual about it, even though the way his fingers dance around your naked body leave you wanting more. Showering with Spencer lets loose all those bottled up emotions from the cases. Your clandestine showering meetings are an intimate exercise where you remind each other that you're alive, you’re still breathing and still hanging on.

Maybe it could be like this all the time, only if you’re brave enough to say “yes”

You stand back as Spencer washes off the final suds that collected on his back. He shuts off the water and climbs out of the shower. You follow, but reach for two towels. Spencer wraps his towel around his waist and squeezes the water out of his hair into the bathtub. Drying yourself off, you sit on the bathroom counter and rub lotion on your legs.

The quiet moments of domesticity almost make you believe that this is your life with Spencer. It seems so real that at times you let yourself wonder what it’s like to love Spencer in public.

As it turns out, your little bliss is short-lived when a loud knock disrupts your quiet morning.

You shoot Spencer a terrified look; both of you can recognize that knock anywhere. Luke Alvez is here, and unfortunately you are too, but naked in your co-work/secret lover’s bathroom.

“Spencer! What the hell is he doing here?” You say, your voice raising with your fear of being caught.

“I don’t know Y/N. He was telling me the other day that he wants to take me out to you know,” Spencer says, letting his voice trail off.

“To what, Spencer?” You ask, growing annoyed at Luke’s unexpected arrival.

“To get me laid,” Spencer mumbles under his breath. His hands come up to hide his blush at the uncomfortable conversation that he remembers word for word with Luke.

“What? God. Did you tell him that, that um covered?” You say, hoping that Spencer would catch your meaning, but he shakes his head.

“Oh my God, Spencer. You need to go out there and fix this. Okay, I’m going to look for clothes,” You tell him, throwing a sweatshirt and a pair of boxers at him.

He puts on the boxers before opening the bathroom door. Luke’s loud knocking gets more insistent and Spencer manages to get his sweatshirt on before he swings the door open.

“Took you long enough,” Luke says, standing in the doorway.

“Yeah. Some of us like to sleep on days off. You should try it sometime,” Spencer responds, getting ready to shut the door in Luke’s face and return to Y/N in the bathroom.

“You’re hiding something, Reid,” Luke says, strong-arming his way into Spencer’s apartment.

“I have no clue what you're talking about, Luke. Everything is fine, I’m fine,” Spencer says. You listen from the bathroom with the door slightly ajar.

“You said you were sleeping?” Luke asks, and you internally cringe at what you know is to come.

“Yeah. Work has been exhausting and this is our only time to catch up on sleep. Actually, I was reading this study—”

“Reid. Don’t change the subject. Your hair is wet. And you’re wearing a sweatshirt to a college that you didn’t go to,” Luke surmises. Shit, you think. Luke Alvez, through all his brawn and muscle, is the most perceptive profiler, especially when it comes to Spencer.

“I just washed my hair and —” Spencer starts, but is silenced by Luke’s hand.

“If I remember correctly, Y/N went to Auburn,”

You can’t hear what Spencer says, but you only imagine him out there in his boxers in your college sweatshirt standing awkwardly in front of Luke Alvez. He picks at the embroidered scarlet “A” that’s sewn into the sweatshirt.

“You’re still holding out on that happening, aren’t you?” Luke asks.

“Um, I guess,” Spencer says, “you know I really do love Y/N. It’s not like it’s just a work crush or anything. Y/N is it for me. Even if I’m not it for Y/N,” Spencer says, and for some reason you think that his words aren’t for Luke.

“Come on dude, just let me get you laid. I know you’re hung up on Y/N but it seems like that is sailed. Spence, Y/N is seeing someone and it’s really serious. Penelope was telling me that Y/N mentioned something to her about this guy. I’m sorry, Spencer. But I don’t think that’s going to work out,” Luke says calmly.

“Oh yeah," Spencer says, trying to mask his smile at being Y/N's mystery man that Penelope gossips about, "but, really, uh. Luke, I’m not looking to uh get. I’m not in business of, uh?— ”

Unable to take it any longer, you swing open the bathroom door...

“I think what Spencer is trying to say, Luke is that uh, he, well really we got it covered,” You say, unable to watch the way that Spencer is utterly crumbling under Luke’s stare.

You pop out from the bathroom dressed in Spencer’s robe. Luke looks from Spencer to you and back to Spencer. You can see the cogs in his brain turning, trying to figure out if his friends are playing an elaborate practical joke that’s years in the making or if their longing stares and hidden smiles were evidence of something more.

“Y/N the guy you’re seeing is Spencer?” Luke asks, not fully believing his eyes.

“Yes, uh. You know we just wanted to keep things secret for a little bit because of Emily and the rules,” You answer, hoping he'd understand why you and Spencer were a secret.

“Huh, damn,” Luke says, still shocked that he missed all those obvious signs.

“Yes and I’d appreciate it if you stop insisting that Spencer get laid. I can assure you that that is taken care of. Thoroughly,” You say, sitting down next to Spencer on the couch.

“Oh my God, Y/N,” Spencer says, appalled that his partner is giving his friend very innocent details about his quite active sex life.

“What, Spence. I’ve decided that the team should know you're a genius in more ways than one. Besides, the cat has been let out the bag,” You reason, liking the way Spencer’s blush returns to the top of his nose and down his cheeks.

“I’ve heard enough, um. But don’t be surprised when your uh extracurricular activities are interrupted by Penny,” Luke says before dashing out the door, already getting Penelope on speed dial.

Spencer, still sitting on the edge of the couch, turns to face you. His face is contorted, like he’s trying, but struggling to read the emotions of the room.

“You’re okay, Y/N. With everyone knowing?” Spencer asks, his voice full of trepidation. He sounds so scared, like he feels guilty for you wanting to keep your relationship a secret.

“Spencer, look at me please,” You say, scooting a little closer on the couch so your knees touch. He refused to make eye contact with you, until you place your fingertips under his chin, directing his attention at you.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry. I messed this up, I --” Spencer went on. His lips could hardly keep up with how fast his brain seems to work.

“Spence, hon. Please relax. I’m not upset. We’ll make it out of this mess. This love might be difficult, sweetheart, but it’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt,” You tell him. Your fingers haven’t left his chin, but you do move them down towards the back of his neck.

“The best love stories were never easy,” Spencer says, enjoying the way your nimble fingers tangle themselves in his hair, tugging his head closer to yours.

You close the gap, and even though you’ve done this countless times, Spencer can still make your heart skip a beat or two.

“You still owe me a picnic, Romeo,"

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Thank you for reading! I hope that you enjoyed this and again happy one year to will!

I appreciate and love every single reblog, comment and like ❤️❤️

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@shemarmooresfedora

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[pufflocks]

Hello again Zen! First I just wanna say that you don’t need to apologize about what happened to the other fic. If you ever feel like you wanna reattempt it, just tell me and I’ll send it again. This request is also smut like the last one and I hope that’s ok!

So Bakugou, known by the public as the pro hero Dynamight, has been having it tough at work the past 2 weeks. He knew that technically it was partly his fault. You see, Bakugou is in a secret relationship with one of Japan’s most mischievous villains. Y/n L/n. (Male Reader) Y/n was in reality not necessarily a villain. He was seen as one, but he had never actually killed anybody. He was more the type to steal, start some fights/trouble and occasionally blow up some place. He was more mischievous than evil. Though Bakugou knew that Y/n wasn’t as bad as everyone thought, and he knew that Y/n did love him. He just had a bit of history.. With that being said: Bakugou had been having it rough lately because his secret boyfriend had been at it like crazy. He also knew that Y/n was intentionally making things difficult for him. So when he was on his patrol and got an emergency signal about trouble just a few blocks away, boy was he ready to hunt Y/n down! Once he saw him he immediately chased him into an alleyway. Y/n had escaped and ran into an abandoned apartment. He thought he was safe. But when he turned around, he wasn’t so lucky. Shit.. Bakugou was ready to completely ravage and take out all of his frustrations on Y/n, as he had him trapped with nowhere to run.

This one could be considered Revenge/Angry S*x. It’s not non-con since Y/n clearly knew what he was in for, and Bakugou wouldn’t do anything incase Y/n seriously stopped him. The request was kinda long, sorry about that lol. If you don’t feel like writing it then it’s fine, and if you’d like to switch some things up then feel free to do so! Also, don’t feel rushed and take your time. Have a nice day/night! :>

Summary: I'm not a dark blogger, but this req is honestly too amazing. I will change some things as to not make it exactly dark though— And thank you for being patient with me and the recent incident. 💛

Warnings: NFSW • proof read • Aged up • mild angst{?}

Cast: Villian!M!Reader x Pro hero!Bakugou

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Y/N L/N. A name that was a hassle to spit out. Your name was spoke like a horrid sickness spreading west to east. All you were was some mildly lowlife starting cat fights on the streets of Japan. It usually happens at night, and that's also when you strike 24 hour open corner stores. Quite fun to be honest. Your skill being up to par of a spy since your original outing clothing you were seen with was mostly black. Your hair was dyed a certain way after a long past incident though, kinda making you stick out overall you camflouged into the night.

Your pro hero, hot headed, stress filled, boyfriend however, was gold spoon in it's prime. A pro hero who was rich with fame. Oh god he had it all in your eyes. You sometimes cried with tears of joyfulness just at the mere slick thought you were dating him. Not no female who just as good looking, like Creati. No, none of that. It's not like he would change that spite his efforts of frustration with your recent activities these part two years.

The streets are terrific to you for these two years though. Everything is nearly breakable and easily fixed with community money. You would think it was community money atleast. All is good since you made sure to leave your mark with explosives.

Hence your love and passion for your lover, you would smuggle cheap fireworks and set them off at random areas of the late hours. The most recent one being pulled off near a school and and anyone could imagine how the headlines went. The news was erratic with wow and terror of where the explosion even came from, who set it off. Little did they obviously not know —

It was pro hero, Katsuki Bakugous boyfriend.

--

On to other things. Bakugou was in a meeting. Apparently he was being caught up with some warning of a manic villain roaming the streets and city alone.

"So what ?" The room was silent as all eyes transferred front to the back where he sat. Eye bags slightly visible of how stressed he really was after the news confirmed he was.

A co-worker of his, Kirishima raised his hand in apparent anxiousness. "Um", he coughed into his fist before speaking again. "Well, Bakubro he has been going at it for nearly 2 years. No one even know what he looks like, hell man." Starting to get his voice back he finally said, "We probably don't even know if he is a he !" The rooms tension was held up to a few more minutes before Bakugou just got up and walked out.

Another co-worker of his, Mina sparked up and said, "Where are you going !" Her words fell on deaf ears as he was already gone.

Heavy weighted footsteps of his boots were heard along the agency's hallways as people made sure to step out of his way. Grabbing his stuff most important for his next move being his car keys. His brain hurt of how fucking frustrating it is to be held back from work because of his delinquent boyfriend wants to treat the world as a damn playground. He couldn't take it! The stress and anxiety he kept for 2 years was just high enough for him to fuck one out. And he might just.

Just because those assholes didn't know where to find you, doesn't mean he can't. You were always close to a rundown apartment in an alleyway doctoring up a new firework of your own or anything remotely for distruction.

And there you were. In a damn corner completely unaware of the 6 foot presence behind you. Horny and exhausted was a nasty mix for anyone and Bakugou is a worse case as he grabbed you by your arm turning you around.

Alert entered your mind as you nearly, by a measly hair burnt him with a match you had. Why was here was all you could ask yourself, feeling his dramatic hot pants near your neck.

"Why-" No time for speaking when he was highly eager to ravage your ass. You knew how he was from time time since you've met him and because of this you have gotten the worst and the best of him. Sex and life alone was hot and dangerous between the both of you.

His lips marked yours up with a grunt of his own making it seem as if he was feasting on your chapped ones. The dryness making it sting sweetly only adding to the arousal you now felt for yourself. Kissing him. Him not taking his time as he will easily swallow his food without chewing.

"I'm fucking pissed." He snapped. This version of him was the only version you couldn't take. No type of convincing could make an outsider believe your actions to one another was not non consensual. His slightly bigger form compared to your own was trifling as it was pressed up to your chest.

After minutes of searching eachothers mouths with fever and rush he finally stripped himself from his pants. You caught a rare glimpse of how hard he really was. Now this was irritating you at this point. You were no sore loser, but if someone ever took something from you like candy it would easily be endgame.

"Stop fucking pouting. I just got out of a meeting early", he adjusted his position a bit. "To fuck your meddling ass." He closed the space between you two as his cologne and natural scenticked your senses. A shiver went down your spine like a fresh cold drop of sweat as you backed away into the corner. He followed that and smirked. You couldn't be serious.

"Turn around. I wanna see it." He huffed, impatiently. You obviously did what you were told. No time in making him even more pissed. He admired your obedience when it came to your relationship. Only if you could follow that up in turning yourself in. Sadly you were too prideful, probably why you both have an odd ball bond with eachother.

Like lightning your pants were down just like his as he slapped your ass with a strikingly heavy hand. Watching your arse slightly move was guilty enjoyment of his own.

"Ah !" You covered your mouth quickly in fear of his scolding. Number 1 rule of him when frustrated was that on all accounts. Don't. Fucking. Make. A. Peep. That reminder did not fail to make you turn back with pleading eyes with him looking back at you with pliant disbelief.

"Yer' really trying to fuckin' test me, yeah ?" He asked. Not loud how he usually is, but a lower octave with a nonchalant expression. He was tired. Tired of your prideful denial of going to jail. Tired of these late damn meetings at the agency. Tired of his parents calling him because he was doing this to himself. He was fucking exhausted of it all. His top tier was you especially.

☆

That's completely fine though. He can sex all of this out on his handsome villain boyfriend.

Y/N fucking L/N.

I hope this is fine, again I'm not a dark blog so if I wrote this along with the req it would get a bit dark. { I love dark blogs so it would be a whole series 💀. }

[touyasdoll]

Some Dom!Hawks x Unfortunate!Reader for ya. Was supposed to write Miruko, but nah. Hawks decided to show up instead. 😅🙄 Needy bastard~

- IR

You had wanted to be a good girl today, but you really, really just couldn’t. You had promised Keigo you would behave if he took you to the office with him, but it seemed like everything in the world was conspiring against you.

You tried to keep calm, counting down and up, naming 5 things and all sorts of little tricks as you went about your day, helping deliver things for your husband and occasionally others. You intended to hang out with some of the analysts or other members of the Support Department for a while, and kept that in mind as the morning went on, but life was not kind to you. By lunch you were done.

People had been snippy, co-workers and civilians alike, coffee was spilt down your shirt when you turned around and crashed into a hovering member of the PR department — she yelled, you bit your lip and apologized, the strap on your favorite pair of shoes broke causing you to collide into a sidekick, gaining the attention of everyone nearby as he “politely scolded” you for “recklessly running around like that”, you were told off by a secretary who wrongly saw you as an intern for going barefoot, you were told off by several people for going barefoot, as if you had a choice when the office was all the way at the other side of the Aerie. All in all, the morning was horrid and as you finally reached his office, you opened the door and threw yourself down on the couch.

“Well, now~ I’ve heard someone’s been a naughty girl today~”

You froze up at your husband’s words and peered over the pillow you were clutching. You couldn’t help the glare that came to your face as you met his eyes, taking in the sharp look. How could he just…

“Fuck you!” you growled out before burying your face in the pillow and turning your back to him. How dare he assume you were causing trouble?! You had promised and done your best to keep it, even with everyone being terrible! You felt hot tears well up, but stubbornly refused to cry.

“‘Fuck me’?” he bummed out the question in a calm, even tone and you knew you had messed up at hearing it. You should just apologize and explain, prove you were being good all day, but you were too angry to be good. Too hurt. You clutched the pillow tighter, stress gripping it. “Not with that attitude. I don’t tolerate bad little girls who break promises, you know, yet here you are. I suppose we should do something about that.”

You stilled as your heard him stand. Your quick, stealthy husband, making noise as he slowly walked to you, doing a very good job at psyching you out, making the air heavier, tenser, in the room. You felt like prey, not a predator as your Quirk, Kestrel, dubbed you. You didn’t give in to the atmosphere of the room, the aura your husband was putting off as he walked over to you.

“Stand up.”Keigo spoke easily, but there was warning and order in his words. You were on thin ice, but you didn’t care. You had been trying to be a good girl and he didn’t care! If he didn’t care, then you might as well be a bad girl!

“No!” You refused, hunkering down.

“Stand up.”

“No!”

But it did nothing as you were easily plucked from the couch and stood on the floor. You didn’t know what else to do but refuse him, yet Keigo didn’t say a thing else. He carefully removed the pillow from your grip, ignoring your pouting, your glare. You made to walk away but he easily caught you by the wrist and dragged you down, over his lap as he fast down on the couch.

“I don’t tolerate bad little girls who break promises, acting like little brats who can’t have their way.”,he stated lazily, a hand on the back of your neck as another stroked down your spine, over your rear end.

“I was—“

His hand squeezed the back of your neck and you shut up.

“I didn’t say you could talk,”he warned, tone still casual. “And I didn’t teach you bad manners. Did I?” The pressure of him stroking down your spine came again and something within you just suddenly dropped the rest of the way.

You gave off an annoyed little growl, emotions still high. Even if you now used your manners.

“No, Daddy.”

“That’s right. I didn’t teach you bad manners. I also didn’t teach you to misbehave,” His voice pierced something in you and you started to squirm in his hold, trying to stand up. It was fruitless as his arms are tightened around you. He repeated his words from earlier, “Yet here we are. I suppose we should do something about that.”

You gulped, internally cursing your decision to even get out of bed today. Your stomach tightened as you felt a hand tug your pants and panties down. The cool air hitting your bare skin felt like a sting all its own

“And would you look at that~? I have plenty of time. right. now.”

Smack! The first strike came so quick it took you by surprise, despite knowing this was to happen, and you yelped. “No no no! I wasn’t being bad today!”, you cried, squirming in place. “Please, Daddy! I wasn’t being bad!”

“Oh, even if you were good earlier, you definitely haven’t been nice any since you came back here,” he reminded, giving another quick smack and then another. And another. It stung and you knew he wasn’t near done. Kei— Daddy was many things, thorough being one of them.

He was going to punish you and good, mark you up and make you remember who was in charge. He had taken the rest of the afternoon off, hoping to have some fun, but really. Who cared if he spent it tanning your hide and then admiring the view as he worked?

You ended up propped up on the couch, your hands bound since you squirmed so much, face down on that pillow you had gripped, with your ass in the air facing your Daddy, red with the marks and signs of his strikes. He was rather proud of his work, his efforts in teaching you well and making it stick. It had taken you a while to remember to count, making him start all over again. He wasn’t pleased, which is why you had a plug in you after all of that, stretching your sore ass and keeping you open with not nearly enough to clench onto. It was also the reason your neglected pussy was throbbing with need. You whimpered as your body shifted. You were not going to be a brat in Daddy’s office ever again!

Hawks smirked to himself as he went over some submitted paperwork. Maybe when he was done with all his things you would of learnt your lesson and stopped being such a little terror (he knew it wasn’t all your fault, but then you had come in with the attitude…). Then he could remind you how good girls were treated when they behaved for Daddy, starting with that wet cunt, dripping onto his nice clean couch. He was… hmm.

Maybe he has to remind you a little early. He really hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast… He stood up, stretching his wings and arms.

“Babygirl, spread those legs some more. C’mon, open up. That’s right, good girl. Daddy missed lunch.”

— End

Oh shit 😳 that last line fucking took me OUT

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter One. Welcome to Sweetland

the scene is set in 1956, a young man moved to Hollywood to follow his dreams of becoming an actor. But with little money and a struggle to keep his apartment, he is approached by a man who offers him a job at Sweetland

a/n: THE FIRST CHAPTER IS FINALLY HERE! this story is loosely based on the Netflix series ‘Hollywood’. just the general concept of it and ofc adding my own twist to it. I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it! happy reading <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAGLIST | chapter word count: 8.3k

LETS TALK ABOUT CN! share all of your thoughts, questions, and comments!

please rb to share <3

The familiar click of his boots onto the tiled shiny floor is what Harry looked forward to all the time.

He found motivation as he walked down the hall as he passed by locals pacing back and forth with their fingernails in their mouths or sitting on chairs against the wall as they nervously chatted with one another. Some of the girls glanced at him seductively as he walked, making his confidence shoot up a bit. Harry took each and every single one of them in; telling himself to not let their anxiousness get the better of him because he was better than them, he was more good looking than them, and he was a better actor than them. At least that’s what his self affirmations tell himself every morning.

The bright light shining from above him as he takes each step made him feel like a spotlight. He put on his best game face and walked confidently as he wore a white crisp button down shirt with a yellow polka vest, blue flared jeans, and red boots. It was his lucky outfit and one of his favorites. It was a stuffy outfit for the hot weather in Hollywood, but he needed to look dashing. Plus they were all a steal in the clearance section!

“Harry! Over here!” He saw Mikey waving over at him at the end of the hall. Harry waved back at him as he hurriedly walked towards him.

“Hey, Mikey. How is it in there?” He asked as they tried peeking into the room everyone has been waiting to have a chance to get into.

“Man, it’s crazy. Everyone in there is so intimidating!” Mikey shook his head as he looked up at Harry. He was a tad bit shorter than Harry, but he was humorous and the camera always loved a funny person.

Harry and Mikey met in front of the gates at Paramount Studios almost a year ago. They were both standing right next to each other amongst the hundreds of people waving their hands up in the air as they tried to get the attention of the casting directors. But in the midst of it all the chaos, Harry had accidentally elbowed Mikey’s head, which caused him to get infuriated and led them to a fight.

“Think you can go fucking around elbowing people, huh?” Failed punches were being thrown at one another as they tackled each other to the ground; a crowd had circled around him. Despite Mikey’s height, he was underestimated. He was feisty, tough and can pretty much handle anyone.

But that fight had been broken up by security, and somehow and some way, the casting directors found that entertaining and picked the both of them to be an extra. They were both ecstatic, not knowing a so-called fist fight would lead them to being an extra on set. Of course, it was hard to work with one another after the fight they had caused. But after throwing looks at one another, they figured it was best to get along and work together.

And they found out they had many things in common and respected each other’s dislikes. Since then, they’ve been by each other’s side.

“I’m sure you did great. Don’t sweat it,” Harry patted Mikey’s shoulder, reassuring him from his audition.

“Oh, oh! They’re coming! Get ready!”

Two older women walked out of the doors of the room that was frightening but exhilarating all at once. Everyone rushed to the entrance of the door, putting on their best smiles and mystery looks as the two women looked around to find their perfect face. Harry stood still, not putting on his best look as a way to tell them he was trying too hard.

“Alright, here’s how this is going to work,” one of the women screamed out to the eager crowd. She was tough as she wore an all black dress that stopped below her knees and 2 inch heels. Her expression was stern, giving everyone a hard look as they listened to her. “I’m going to choose two of you to walk inside with us and you will be given a chance to audition. We want to see the best actors and actresses to give us the performance of a lifetime.”

“Everyone ready?” The other woman in purple said and everyone nodded their heads. “Please get into two lines on both sides of the wall.” The crowd did so. Harry being the first one in the line since Mikey saved him a spot. Nervous was an understatement for Harry. He wanted to be chosen and this can finally be the start of the career he’s been dreaming of.

The two women glanced at everyone as they walked between the lines, looking at everyone’s smiles and anxious looks. Everyone’s heads turned as they walked passed by them, frowns present on their faces as they didn’t get chosen.

After a few minutes, Harry heard their heels clicking onto the floor as they were walking back. He turned his head and saw a girl walking behind them as she beamed in excitement. A small frown was placed on his face, feeling as his hopes have been crushed.

Suddenly, he felt their presence stop walking and stopped in front of him. His head immediately was brought back up to look at them, frown was replaced by a small smile.

“You’re good looking,” the lady in black said with no emotion. Her stare was intimidating, making Harry stutter.

“T-Thank you,” he cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said again more clearly.

“Can you smile for me?” She asked. Harry gave her his best smile. The one that wasn’t too bright nor the one that wasn’t too small. But he gave his charming smile, making his dimples pop out. She looked at him for a few seconds as she stared into his eyes before she said, “Okay, come with me.” And she walked off into the room followed by the other director and the girl that they picked.

Harry couldn’t believe that they actually picked him. He turned towards Mikey and he was smiling so big, giving him a big thumbs up and a pat on his shoulder.

“Go get ‘em kid!” He lightly pushed him towards the door as Harry felt his feet were stuck to the ground from the shock.

Entering the room, he was met by the eyes of three other producers sitting at a long table. They had their coffees in front of them and a notepad with a pen, looking through a list of actors and actresses they’ve come across.

“Okay, just wait here as we prepare. Names?” the lady in purple positioned Harry and the other girl in the center of the room in front of the table of people that would dictate his future as she got their names before walking back to the table.

The room was freezing and Harry shook as he got shivers down his spine.

“Nervous?” The girl said next to him.

“Yeah, a bit. You?”

“Eh, I’m doing okay. Not my first audition,” she said in a bragging tone, and Harry just simply nodded. She was a small petite girl with long hair as she wore a pink pleated skirt with a pink striped top. Her hair was short as it curled up towards the end of it, giving her a more girly and preppy look. “I’m Brandy,” she introduced herself.

“Harry.” They softly and quickly shook hands.

“Say, Harry, how about we have a little fun after this audition?” Harry looked down at her and she gave him a brow raise with a teasing smirk.

“Uh-” Harry hesitated and luckily, they were interrupted.

“Okay, you two. Since we planned on not doing any scripts for this audition, you’re going to need to improvise. Show us your true and natural talent. I’ll set the scene: you two are at a party and are about to break up. Okay? Ready? Action!” One of the producers told them hurriedly, giving them no time to take it all in.

Harry and Brandy turned towards each other, and Harry’s face was immediately met with the palm of Brandy’s hand, giving him a hard and loud slap to his cheek. Harry’s head whipped to the side, covering the sting with his hand.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked in shock.

“How dare you break up with me! You don’t get to break up with me,” Brandy’s eyes were immediately filled with tears, and Harry wondered how she was so quick to make herself cry like that.

“I-I’m sorry. But it’s not my fault I caught you fucking some other guy!” Harry retorted back. Brandy’s tears had fallen onto her face, and Harry’s face remained annoyed.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything. I promise I won’t do it again,” she grabbed his hands as she pleaded.

“No,” Harry started softly, feeling sympathy for his co-partner. “This has to end. It’s for the best-”

“CUT!” One of the men screamed out, interrupting their scene.

“Great, great job guys. That’s all we need. Brandy, come see us. Harry, you’re free to go.”

Brandy squealed beside him, walking towards the table to possibly talk about a contract and a part in a film while Harry slowly walked back to the entrance that was now his exit, feeling completely gutted. He thought he did fairly well; if they had given them more time, he would’ve been able to continue on and show them what they’re really missing. But that was their decision, and Harry had no choice but to try again the next time.

As he exited the room, he was immediately met by Mikey waiting for him with a big and hopeful smile.

“Well? Got that contract you wanted?” He asked.

Harry shook his head in defeat. “Gonna try again the next time. Didn’t fully get to show my talent y’know?” He said as the two friends walked towards the exit of the building. Mikey put his arm around Harry’s body, hand resting on top of his shoulder.

“There will be plenty of more auditions to come. Don’t worry,” Mikey reassured his friend as they walked out the door to be met with the bright shining light of the California sun.

“S’alright. Gotta keep goin’,” Harry said, convincing himself not to give up as he places a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up.

“That’s the spirit! But listen, I gotta get going. The family needs me, but I’ll see you at the next audition! Be there!” Mikey bid him goodbye as he was walking away from him. Harry waved at him, watching his friend walk home to his family.

And Harry needed a drink.

He found himself at a bar close to his apartment. It was midday so no one was really at the bar except about four other people, chatting and playing pool. He was drinking whiskey, downing glass after glass, needing something stronger than a beer as he had a tough and long day.

“Long day, kid?” A man with a full head of grey hair and grey mustache asked. He was very attractive for an old man. Looked very classy and proper, probably had a good job because he just looked fucking rich; while Harry is struggling to find a stable job to pay off his bills.

Harry scoffed, “You have no idea.” He called for the bartender, getting his attention. “Can I get another one of these please?” The bartender sighed, shaking to himself while getting Harry another drink; his fifth one in just 10 minutes. Once the bartender set his drink down, Harry simply picked it up and threw it down his throat as if it was mouthwash.

“What’s got you like this?” The man asked curiously. Harry turned towards him, giving him a look up and down. He’s usually very polite with meeting new people and is usually shy, but with the alcohol in his system on top of the horrible day he had, it was like he was a different person. He’s usually the soft and cuddly type when he’s buzzed or drunk, but again, he just had a bad day.

“Ya wanna know?” He didn’t wait for the man’s answer, but he nodded anyway. “Well, for starters, got a fuckin’ audition earlier because y’know, that’s what I do. I’m an actor. Anyways, I do the audition that they picked me out of, like, 50 people, and this girl who bragged about having plenty of auditions. And when we start, not even 5 minutes as we start actin’, they stop us! Thought they were lovin’ what we were doin’ that’s why they stopped us, but she told that Brandy girl to meet them after and dismissed me, like for fuck sakes!” Harry was seething as he was telling the story, and practically everyone was listening in since he was talking so loudly.

“Sorry about that, kid. But that’s what you do huh? You act?” The man asked, placing his cigar in his mouth.

“Yeah. Tryin’ to make a fuckin’ living and I’ve been struggling keeping my apartment,” he rolled his eyes, trying to remember the next due date was for his rent and electricity bill.

“It’s a tough world out there. But hey, what do you say you work for me?” The man offered and Harry’s brows furrowed.

“Don’t even know your name.”

“Well if you must know, like you didn’t just tell me your whole life story, I’m Daren,” he offered a hand to shake, and Harry takes it.

“Harry. So what exactly do you do?” Harry wondered.

“I work for a candy store,” he simply stated.

“A candy store…” Harry repeated and Daren nodded. “What the fuck am I gonna do at a candy store?”

“Simple. It’s like a self-serve candy store, but my workers serve them instead. Just grab a bag and they tell you what they want, and you get it. Simple as that,” he explained. “You’re an attractive man! Got the face and everything, and considering you’re tall, bet you’re packing down there too,” Daren said nonchalantly.

“Are you offering me a job or you’re gonna compliment my cock?” He wondered why the sudden mention of his cock came to play, but brushed it off. Harry hadn’t realized that he would be working at a candy store when he moved to Hollywood. He had big dreams, and he wanted to follow his dreams by getting as many auditions as he can and be in front of the camera, not work in candyland.

“Both. Just think about it. You’d be making a lot of money working there—hell of a lot more than minimum wage. And I’m talking about starting at $30 for an entire day. You can’t pass that deal up! And you just said it yourself that you can’t afford to keep your apartment. I mean, let’s face it. When are you going to get another audition? You’ve already gotten rejected from the one today!” Harry was breathing out of his nose, practically huffing at him as Daren mentioned the rejection. He knew that what Daren said was right, but Harry was hard headed and didn’t want to believe him.

“Sorry, mate,” he stood from his chair, grabbing his wallet from his back pocket as he set out a $10 bill on the counter. “Thank, but no thanks,” he told Daren, pride getting in the way.

“Well, my offer is still on the table. I’m located on Sunset, so you know where to find me once you get what I said through your ass,” he said louder than usual as Harry was walking away with no look back, exiting the bar and walking home.

When he reached the front of his door, he was met by paper taped to it that read ‘LATE RENT SECOND NOTICE’. Harry sighed, ripping the paper off the door before unlocking it and heading inside. He briskly threw the notice on the table and he sat down on his couch, rolling out his neck and closed his eyes for a moment. His shoulder and neck felt tight—his overall body felt tense, like he couldn’t relax for a tad bit.

He was stressed. The dream of becoming an actor was made when he was a teenager. From auditioning for one of his school plays in comprehensive school and getting the lead role, he felt the rush of being on stage when he was only sixteen. From then on, he wanted to take that dream to the next step, and he was talking about being on camera, on billboard, stepping on stage when he wins and collecting his Oscar. Harry reaches for big dreams, and he was determined to make his dreams come true.

In his state of pondering about lifelong dreams of making it in the industry, the electricity had gone out. It was like he was so in his head about becoming a famous actor that he felt like he was in the clouds and nothing was limiting him, but the harsh reality of his source of light going out had brought him back to the ground.

A groan from Harry’s mouth was heard between the walls of his tiny apartment, frustrated that he can’t seem to find money just to save him from getting evicted from his home. He took a deep breath as his body was stretched across the couch, hands on his face as he debated what to do.

He thought about getting more auditions, which he will eventually try for because again, that was his lifelong dream, but how many auditions did he have to do for anyone to see him other than a pretty face. Let’s face it, Harry knew he was attractive and having a nice face helped him get auditions, although he’s only had two in his lifetime. But he wanted to be seen more than that. He wanted to be seen for his talent, his ability to act, and being the person the camera loves.

Harry then thought about the offer Daren from the bar made him. It was quite random how someone badly wanted him to work for some candy shop when there are so many people who are looking for a side job. Of course he didn’t want to work there, but he did remember Daren saying that he was willing to pay a lot. But who in the world has that kind of money to pay $30 for working at a simple candy store?

Hell if Harry knew, but he knew that he needed to make some sacrifices.

You were sat in the beige booth across from your two friends, waiting on your food as Alice was reapplying her lip gloss and Frances was talking to you nonstop about a boy she had met from class.

It was your usual Friday afternoon as the three of you met up at Mel’s Drive In to have weekly breakfast for lunches. It was a ritual ever since you were in high school.

Having met them your freshman year of high school when you three were in the same dance class, you girls were inseparable. You’ve been through breakups, crushes, and gossip with them; and they were like your sisters. Sisters who talk about anything and everything with no limits or shame.

And now you three were dance teachers at the academy school you all danced at. It honestly worked very well; when a dancer hits eighteen, they graduate and that’s their farewell from growing up and continuously dancing at the studio. A year before you three graduated from college, your ballet instructor, Sally, had told you three that her and the rest of the staff always loved your techniques and stability. And you were all very excited for the journey.

“I swear to god, I was gonna jump him right then and there,” Frances said waving her hand as if she was fanning herself.

“Wait, he did what now?” Alice asked, pausing from putting on her lip gloss. She did it all the time, but you had no idea as to why she was doing that when you were about to eat. But Alice is Alice.

“If you can take one second not eating your lip gloss, then you would have heard me,” Frances turned to her right to face Alice, a frustrated look on her face. It was the same old annoyed look Frances gave Alice and to others, it looked like she was about to start a fight, but to the three of you, it was just pure bickering and humorously messing with each other.

“Anyways, tell us more,” you said, reaching over to Frances, and she excitedly turned back towards you, happy someone was paying attention.

“He just kept flirting with me! Kept saying I looked so pretty and said he wanted to take me out, which I think he’s gonna ask me out the next time I see him because he kept hinting at it, and I’m just so excited! Although I wasn’t sure if I wanted to date another dancer, let alone a coworker, but I don’t care anymore!” She squealed in excitement, and told her how happy you were for her.

“What about you?” Alice asked suddenly.

“What about me?” You asked back, leaning back on the leather cushion. Before Alice was about to answer, their food had arrived and was placed in front of you,

“Any guys or girls you’ve been into lately?” You thought about it, and shook your head truthfully as you dug into your pancakes. “C’mon! There isn’t anyone at all?” You shook your head again, taking a bite. “Not even that Tyler guy?” You rolled your eyes, waiting to swallow your bite before you answered.

“No, no, and no. I don’t know. It’s hard for me to get out there y’know?” You slightly frowned, realizing that you had been missing the affection and attention you wanted.

“Oh, whatever! You’re just saying because you’re too shy and proper to say that you haven’t been fucked in forever,” Frances said too loudly for your liking. You looked around your table to see if anyone had any lingering eyes on the three of you, but everyone seemed to be only paying attention to their business. “Face it, the last time you’ve been touched was Chris—and hell if he did the job.”

“And we know you can get out there. You’re pretty, smart, funny, and you’re a rich bitch! So many guys go after you in the passing!” Alice added.

“Yeah, only cause they want to get to my dad, remember?” You raised your eyebrows at them, and they went silent for a bit, remembering that ordeal.

“Well, those fuckers don’t know what they’re missing,” Frances said back.

“Since when have you used such language?” You faked a dramatic gasp, teasing her as she laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Please, ever since you told us about your kinkful night of sex that one time our freshman year of college, knew you weren’t an angel yourself,” Frances smirked, and a gasp was heard from Alice.

“Oh god, I remember that! It was with that junior Lance Mills! I want to hear that story over again. It was like listening to a sex film.” Alice put her hands under her chin as they both eagerly waited for you to tell the story again.

“Maybe next time. Y’know when we’re alone and I’m not about to devour this pancake,” you promised and they nodded excitedly.

The three of you ate your food as Johnny Cash was playing from the jukebox. You and Frances were minding your own businesses, thinking the subject prior was far gone and over with until Alice spoke up again.

“Y’know…I know something that’ll help you with the whole…” she started waving her hand around you like she was casting a spell, and you were utterly confused.

Your brows furrowed, “With what?”

“Your whole dry spell of not being able to get some,” her brows raised, and your mouth slightly opened.

“I am not on a dry spell!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms once you were finished with your pancakes, but felt satisfied, knowing Mel’s pancakes were the best you’ve ever had.

“Please. It’s been what? A year since you’ve had sex? Unacceptable.” You rolled your eyes at Frances’ statement. “You have everything you want except a good orgasm. Can you believe that?” She turned her head towards Alice in disbelief; the two of them shaking their heads.

“Ugh! I don’t need to have sex to complete my life! I am perfectly fine with pleasing myself and not having someone do it for me, and I am perfectly fine with not having sex… at the moment,” you added the last part in case the universe had some weird way of working, making your dry spell even longer. Frances and Alice laughed, knowing you all too well that you loved having sex and someone to hook up with.

It was like you were contradicting yourself in your head--thinking you were okay with yourself, but wanting someone else. But you honestly were fine with doing the job yourself--you didn’t mind that at the very least, but it is always nice to have someone to do it for you. What you were thinking was: yes, you could do it and reach an orgasm yourself, but you didn’t need someone to do it for you. If someone comes your way and helps you out, great. If someone doesn’t, also great, you’d do it yourself.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Alice spoke up. “One of the girls was talking about some shop that always has hot guys working there and they’re always hiring hot guys.”

Frances turned her body towards her, “Ooh, tell me more.”

“You are about to get asked out by some other guy. Don’t be greedy, this is for her!” You chuckled at them as they fought like a married couple. “Well, she was saying how she met this one guy there and they fucked in her car! She would not stop talking about orgasm after orgasm! And she also said all the other workers there are hot too, so you can go down there and check it out for yourself,” Alice explained. “You can just do it once too--get all that stress out of your system.”

You thought about how long your dry spell has been going for. It hasn’t been too long that you were deprived from having good sex, and you would love to look at handsome men even if that means you wouldn’t get any since you were tired of looking at the boys in your class as you thought none of them were really all that attractive to you. So, you nodded in agreement and Alice perked up.

“Where is this shop at?” You asked curiously.

“It’s a candy shop on sunset. But you need a code to get in.”

You confusingly asked, “A code? Why would you need a code?”

“Don’t know. Probably for some identity reason. But they also serve celebrities as well, so that could possibly be a reason,” Alice said.

“Okay…What’s the code?” You asked slowly.

Frances squealed, “You’re really gonna do this?” You shrugged your shoulders but nodded your head.

“So, the code?” You asked Alice again to see her and Frances smirking at one another. Probably because you agreed to doing this and admitting that you wanted to get laid.

“Cloud nine.”

Harry found himself in front of ‘Sweetland’ at 12 in the afternoon on Sunday.

After much debate, he realized he really needed the money when he was in the midst of a shower and the water had turned off. Just as he got soap in his eyes, he figured he would put his pride aside and take up on Daren’s offer. Because what could be so bad working at a candy store? People have to start somewhere in their life in order to make it.

He had a night’s long of pondering, telling himself that an audition is not just going to pop up out of nowhere, but he couldn’t lose hope just yet. And besides, he probably wouldn’t even get paid that much if he wasn’t under a contract with a big agency. So the candy shop would have to do it for now.

Walking through the door, he was met with a few pairs of eyes from men who perked up thinking he was a customer, but quickly put their heads down.

“Ah, so I see you decided to work for me,” Daren said as he noticed Harry at the entrance of the shop, a smirk placed on his face.

“Yeah. Just really need the money,” Harry replied honestly.

“Well, welcome to your first day, boy! Here is your uniform, restrooms are over there,” Daren handed Harry clothes and slightly pushed towards the restroom to get changed.

Once he finished changing and got out of the restroom, he noticed he was matching with the other workers; wearing a blue sparkly blouse with a pussybow and white trousers. He had to admit that he loved the outfit, but wished everyone had different outfits so he could stand out.

“Everyone! This is Harry. He will be joining our team and will be along with this journey of ours.” He noticed Daren smirk as he introduced him to everyone with a hand on his shoulder. There were about five other guys working at the shop that day, and everyone waved, greeting him.

Everyone working were guys and Harry noticed how good looking everyone was, and there were no women working at all, which confused him at the very least.

“Alright, so your job is to basically serve customers. Easy as that. You’ll just grab a bag,” Daren does so as he speaks, “and whatever you want, just fill it up to however they desire. Simple.” Harry didn’t miss his sexual innuendo, even if it was innocent as candy, but he chuckled, amusing Daren. “Got it?”

“Yeah. Seems pretty easy-”

“That’s the spirit! But first, I’m going to need you to stock some of the candy containers in the back,” Daren grabbed a couple of empty jars that were out on display, and Harry nodded as he followed Daren to the back where all the candy was stocked in large containers. “These have the labels on them, so just fill them with the right ones.”

“Alright,” Harry responded, and Daren pats his back before walking towards the exit. “Hey, Daren.” He stopped him before he was able to walk out. He turned around and Harry gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. Y’know, for the job. I really mean it.”

Daren smiled back, “Don’t thank me yet, kid.” And with that, he walked out as Harry filled the empty containers with more candy.

After 30 minutes of filling jars and sweeping the floor, Daren called him to the front of the store. It was more busy than usual but enough for all the workers to be occupied.

“Ready for your first customer?” Harry perked up, and nodded his head eagerly as he was finally going to help a customer out and serve them. “There she is. Remember to smile, and if they say cloud nine, do as they say.”

“Wait, what’s cloud-”

“Go get ‘em.” With a slight push, Harry was lurched forward, walking towards the woman waiting by the door.

“Hello, how can I help you?” Harry asked with a shy smile on his face.

“Just a bag of candy, please,” the lady said as she looked around the store.

“Sure thing,” Harry grabbed a candy bag and followed her around the store as he waited for her to tell her what kind of candy she wanted.

“Can you put these in there?” She said, pointing to the container of gumballs and Harry grabbed the metal spoon, filling it before dropping it in the bag. “That’s all I want,” she said, and Harry ties the bag up.

“Okay. Anything else?” He asked.

“Yeah. Cloud nine?” Harry was utterly confused when she said the phrase; he didn’t know what to do at this point because Daren didn’t take the time to explain it to him.

The woman slapped a few quarters onto the counter before grabbing the bag of gumballs from Harry’s hands and walking out of the store. He turned around and looked at Daren raising two thumbs up at him and Harry was quick to follow her out.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you want me to do,” he said, still confused on what he was supposed to do. She stopped walking, stopping right in front of her white car, and turned around.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said straightforwardly, and Harry’s eyes widened. The woman was about in her forties with a diamond ring on her finger, flashing in his face from how bright the diamond is and how it clashes with the sun.

“P-Pardon?” He stuttered as his face turned red. The lady’s brows raised and Harry could tell that she was getting frustrated mentally and sexually.

“Isn’t that what you guys do? Fuck your customers when they want to?” She crossed her arms impatiently, and Harry’s mouth opened slightly but nothing came out from it, truly speechless at her words.

“I-I’m sorry…I don’t-”

“Ugh, never mind. Forget it,” the lady scoffed and walked to the driver side of her car and got in quickly before driving away, leaving Harry with an unsatisfied customer, a frustrated him, and possibly an angry boss.

With slow steps, Harry walked towards the entrance as he gave himself a 30 second pep talk before he had to go through the door, hoping he wouldn’t get fired on his first day.

He opened the door, the bell from above ringing from the movement of the door. The first thing that his eyes landed on was Daren’s confused face, and Harry frowned, nerves boiling through his veins.

“The fuck you still doing here?” Daren asked with his hands up. Harry scratched the back of his neck, feeling his blouse getting too tight for his own good.

“I, uh-”

“I sure hope to god you’re about to say you made her orgasm in two minutes. And you better not that you lasted two minutes,” his hands are now on his hips, waiting for his answer. “Well? Gonna give me a straight answer or are you gonna just stand there?” Harry’s brows furrowed in anger; from frustration and desperation of making money.

“You never told me what to fuckin’ do. Just expected me to hear a phrase and fuck someone? A little heads up would’ve been nice!” He snapped, his voice louder than he would like, but figured it’s necessary.

“Thought you already figured it out when I was talking about your cock back at the bar!” Daren retorted back, grabbing Harry’s arm and bringing him to the back, away from the other workers.

Harry yanked his arm back when they were both away from the rest, “The least you could’ve done was tell me straight up.”

“I didn’t think you’d care! You’re a good looking guy that probably wants to get laid. When was the last time you fucked someone anyways?” Harry looked at him and rolled his eyes, not answering his question. “I’m assuming it’s been a while…” he paused, eyes widened as if he made a realization. “Unless you’re a virgin because I’m not sure this is the right job for you—well, it might be depending how you look at it-”

“Yes, it’s been a while and no, I’m not a virgin. Not like there’s anything wrong with that,” Harry interrupted just to simply shut him up.

“Look kid, I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear on what this job offered, that was my fault,” Daren placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, how about the rest of the day, you just work with the candy. You don’t have to deal with customers today, and you can decide if you still want to work here. If you do, then you start tomorrow— actually start tomorrow this time. How does that sound?” Harry took a deep breath and nodded slowly, figuring he has about 3 hours to decide what he wants to do. “Great. There’s a few containers that need restocking and some unboxing in the back.”

Harry got to work immediately, but he took his time to make time somehow go by faster as he was surrounded by sour candies, chocolate, and bubblegum. And he was also thinking on how this whole thing will end up. It was only his first day so he wouldn’t get paid, but if Daren was true to his word when he said he would start out at $40, he may as well end up staying here. Because where else is he going to get that type of money in one day? No where. He’d have to work at least two weeks to get a whole $30 when he can make so much more if he were to stay at Sweetland.

Time did go by faster as his brain was scrambled with thought and his mouth felt like he’s eaten every piece of candy. He threw out all the boxes and stored the candy in its right container before washing his hands to see the rest of the workers cleaning up. He wanted to help out, even though he’s done enough, and grabbed a rag before wiping down the counter and the spaces between the candy containers.

“Hey,” Harry said to the guy, whose name tag read Pete, as he was sweeping the floor of sugar and dropped candy.

Pete looked up and smiled, “How did you like your first day?”

“It was unexpected.” Harry chuckled.

“It is, isn’t it?” Pete smiled, and Harry nodded.

“That’s how he dropped the bomb on all of us. Didn’t say much of what we do besides what we do with the actual candy, but just threw us into the pack of wolves and fed us alive.”

“That’s…descriptive.” Pete laughed. “I mean, is it worth it?”

“If you’re desperate for money, then yeah. The reason why we all stayed was mainly because of that, but we’ve grown to like it a lot, and that’s not because we get to have sex everyday. But because Daren is actually really fun and cool, and we’ve all made friends with each other. It’s an experience, for sure.” Harry nodded, taking everything in. He knew his answer before talking to Pete, but he just needed some reassurance, guidance.

Daren came to view when Harry looked up, walking towards him, obviously for one reason. “So, boy, what do you say?”

Harry thought for the last time. Quickly going over his decisions, and having a full on debate in his head as he imagined pros and cons lists. The pros out weighted the cons, and there was really no question about it. The pros were: lots of money, sex, nice coworkers, and good candy. The cons list was: nothing.

He didn’t think he’d end up like this. Working for a fake candy store, but in the sense it’s not fake because it sells real candy, and getting sex this way.

But again, he needed to make sacrifices in order to keep his place and practically live.

“I’ll stay.”

Your muscles were strained from the amount of hours you were on your feet--more like years since you’ve been dancing ever since you were little. From teaching your students a plie to releve to saute; always making sure yours and their toes are always pointed. Your muscles were aching and you were tired, physically and mentally.

It wasn’t like you didn’t love to dance--you’ve been doing it for years, hell, you were teaching it. But it was the long hours during the day where some days, you had to teach and rehearse for at least 12 hours a day. So, needless to say, you were exhausted.

But that wasn’t even the worst of them all. At the end of the day, you had to go home and deal with your family. They were supportive, but not in the sense where you want them to be. They were supportive in what they want for you, not what you want for yourself. It was something you had to live with--you don’t remember a time you got what you wanted, except when you suggested you wanted to do dance when you were younger.

It didn’t take long for them to agree for them to sign you up for dance classes, but only signing you up for classical ballet.

“Sweetheart, it’s just more elegant. You’ll learn how to be more flexible and fix that god awful posture of yours,” your mother had said when you suggested you wanted to do something like tap dance. You had nodded your seven-year-old head as you sulked back to your room, figuring ballet was better than nothing when you asked to take some dance classes.

Your mother, Jane, wasn’t always so harsh with you. In fact, her attitude towards you had gotten better as you got older, but that was probably because she found your dad, Richard, cheating on her with another woman. And she thought you didn’t know a thing, hence why her attitude changed towards you, but you knew everything.

But you were all Jane had, and it was when you were sixteen, she suggested a girls day with you; talking to you with a soft tone and not making any remarks towards how you look. But you were happy for the change; it bettered and strengthened your relationship with your mother and she sides with you with almost everything once your father comes at you for something so little.

Walking through the large doors of your home, you threw your bags on the floor, the heaviness was making your back and shoulders hurt even more, immediately walking towards the kitchen as you stretched out your limbs and joints.

It was almost 10 p.m and you realized you had so many things to do still. Between coming up with a routine and some new ways to warm up, you were filled with overwhelmingness, and you just wanted to have a decent meal in silence.

But sadly, you didn’t get that--either of that. Instead of silence, laughs were heard from the dining room, and once you walked into the room to see what all the noise was about, the thought of a decent meal was lost from your appetite at the sight in front of you.

It was your father laughing with your ex boyfriend, Chris. The sight was unbearable and you wanted to run out of the room, but first, you wanted to know what the actual fuck is Chris doing here.

“Ah, darling, so glad you could join us. Was just having a laugh here with your dear boyfriend, Chris,” Richard had said once he saw you, calming down from his laughter. Chris was looking at you with a smile, and you never wanted to slap a smile off someone’s face before him.

“Ex boyfriend,” you said clearly, making sure they both heard you right.

“Oh, tomato, tomahto. Same shit. Won’t be long until you get back together with him,” Richard chuckled, thinking he was right. But he was far from right; you have no plans whatsoever getting back together with him nor do you have plans ever associating yourself with him, so the fact that he’s in your house right now is just boiling your blood.

“Father, Chris and I are never getting back together. I mean it,” you tell your father, but looking at Chris as you say so, hoping to get your words engrained to his skull. But all Chris did was smirk at like you were wrong, but you rolled your eyes, not amusing him.

“Sure, whatever you say. How about you sit and join us.” Richard points his hands towards the empty chair next to Chris.

“I’d rather not,” you sighed.

“Not asking you, darling,” Richard gives you a disapproving look as if he’s trying not to lash out in front of his ‘perfect’ guest like he’s a ‘perfect’ host.

“Well, I’m telling you I don’t want to. Besides, I have schoolwork to do.” You told him sternly, completely over this conversation. As you were about to walk away, his voice raised slightly.

“Darling. Sit. Now,” he demanded. He was angry, that’s for sure, and the vein on his forehead looked like it was about to pop from you not cooperating.

Giving him the point, you sighed as you took a seat next to Chris, but left a chair between you two, not wanting to be anywhere close to him. You wouldn’t be in this position if you hadn’t walked in on your father and Chris being buddies, and you wished that you had just ignored the laughter because your night would’ve been much nicer than sitting at a table with the two of them together.

But you were rather proud of yourself for sticking up for yourself. Some parents may call it talking back, but that was nowhere near talking back. You grew a thick skin around him throughout the years. From the countless times of crying in your bedroom because Richard would call you names or tell you that you weren’t good enough, you had to grow that kind of toughness around him. Sometimes you had to fight back for yourself; you weren’t going to let him or anyone walk all over you. Seeing your father do that to your mother just broke your heart, but you told yourself that no one will ever treat you like that.

“So, Chris and I were talking about your futures together-”

You raised a hand up only for it to be smacked onto the table causing the table to make a loud sound. “What did I just say? I am never going to have a future with him.”

“Not after what he planned for us,” Chris pitched in.

“Well, you can shove that plan up your ass if you think I’m gonna let you plan my future!” You said, turning towards your father. You were on the edge of your seat, close to getting up and raising your voice even louder or completely walking out of the room as anger flushed through you.

“Do not speak to me that way! Who gave you the right to even use those words?” Richard’s eyes furrowed as he pointed a finger at you, obviously angry, and not giving a fuck if he had a guest hear his anger.

“Gave me the right? You did when you decided to be an absolute dick to mom and I!” You were fully standing up, hands planted on the table.

“Language! You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“But I do, don’t I? Right, father? I know everything,” you gave him a challenging look, which he was not amused with.

“I’m gonna give you five seconds-”

“Don’t bother,” you scooted your chair back, and walked out of the dining room and up the stairs. You just wanted a peaceful and relaxing night, but you got the exact opposite.

You were headed up the stairs, quickly, furious and frustrated at your father. Stomps on the hard floor were heard that you didn’t even hear the footsteps following behind you.

“Hey,” the voice you recognized was Chris’, and you felt your arm slightly being yanked by him, causing you to stop walking. You turned around, immediately taking your arm out of his hold.

“Don’t touch me or ever grab me like that,” you said, and he thinks it’s the most serious tone he’s ever heard out of you.

“Chill, I was gonna see if you were okay after that-”

“Well, don’t! I never asked for you to check up on me, and stop grabbing me like that--I’ve told you a million times. It’s annoying, not cute,” you rolled your eyes. You were right in front of your bedroom door and you just wanted to go inside and be over with the day, but of course, Chris keeps talking.

“Would you stop being a bitch for once? I don’t understand why we can’t be civil with each other, I’m working with your father,” he said, voice slightly raised, but you don’t let it get to you.

“The only reason why I can’t be civil with you is because I can’t stand being around you. And guess who messed that up? You did,” you pointed at him. “You’re just like him. Can’t have one person satisfy you. Always wanna sleep around and think you’re forgiven,” you shook your head in disbelief, trying not to let the tears cloud your eyes.

It wasn’t like you were still hung up on the situation, but the thought of being that heartbroken again did not make you feel the best. The feeling of your heart sinking into your stomach was something you did not want to feel again. And you didn’t think you were wrong for wanting to protect your fragile heart. You were strong on the outside; not taking shit from anyone, and you think that’s a strong quality to have. But deep down, you still had your guard up. Physically, you were fine connecting with people, but emotionally, it was necessary to protect yourself.

“C’mon, baby, it was one time,” you cringed at the name.

“First, don’t call me baby. I mean it. Second, one time was enough. I’ve witnessed it--still witnessing it with my mother staying with my father when he cheats time and time again. That ‘one time’ shouldn’t have even happened. Now, leave me alone and get out of my house.” You walked into your room, but before you were about to shut the door, he placed a hand on it, stopping you from closing it.

“Y’know, maybe we can just have a little fun. Hate fuck all the anger out of each other. Maybe it’ll help get that stick out of your ass,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes in disgust and annoyance.

“Don’t worry, I have better places to go other than you.”

With that you slammed the door in his face, knowing exactly where you could go to destress.

just a glimpse of what their lives look like! CHAPTER TWO IS COMING ON AUGUST 21!

taglist babies: @froggystyles @outofsstyles @whoschantel @4592222 @groovybaybee @bfharry @wellbafineline @tfonty @bfilipa52 @afire-hes @thorsangel @brrilliant-harry @apples2019

[jae-canikeepyou]

| closer | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: au + idol!jae & choreographer/dancer!yn

a/n: this request is long overdue but here it is! :) i’m sorry for the long wait ;-; it’s challenging to write since i’m not a dancer so my explanation’s a lil’ suckish. also! i had to edit a song remix for this oneshot, so the dance and imagination’s clearly up to you *wink wink* enjoy reading! ~j

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though you lost count of the frequent, unexplainable somersaults you experienced in your stomach, you weren’t sure whether this always happen whenever you were told to join other dancers to monitor a routine for a group. perhaps it was just you, that today felt entirely different compared to when you first started.

as far as your career went, this was the only time you felt so stressed. and by ‘stressed’, it didn’t mean that the boys’ couldn’t get the steps right— they were fast learners and the choreography you helped co-create wouldn’t be a problem to them.

nct 127’s rehearsals were at a spacious backstage for straight two days now. in those short days, there was a certain air that lingered and you couldn’t fathom it properly. with you around, the boys would suddenly crowd in a circle, anywhere in the area, and began to utter out whispers you hoped your ears were able to hear. maybe if you were reincarnated, you’d choose an animal with great hearing to be able to hear what they were saying.

and honestly it got you wanting to pull your hair out because.. what if?

what if they disliked how you were a person of few words during practice? or that they preferred if you gave more feedbacks toward their dance like other choreographers who came before you? there weren’t any hints leading to the source of action and really, if this was an actual investigation you’d be removed from the team for not having quick-wits.

taeyong immediately became your close friend right when you were introduced to them by your seniors. he had this you-can-tell-me-anything aura all over him and was the only person you always conversed with among the boys. given that you were part of the choreo team since kick-it era, the boys welcomed you; like so much. but in those greetings, a gut feeling kept bothering you that you would be pulled into something.. perhaps something you might not be able to handle? you wouldn’t know. it was a gut feeling anyway, fifty percent of your intuition were always proven wrong.

you stared at the widespread mirror, arms up to record them while examining their moves and rhythms to the beat. they were tired, you could tell with the way they swayed and continuously wipe off the sweat rolling down their temples. so you decided to give them a break after three hours of practice.

replaying the video over and over to check if they got the timing right, taeyong went to sit by your side gulping and squeezing the water bottle. “relax y/n. you’ll get more wrinkles if you keep doing that.” he nudged you gently to catch your full atttention from the phone.

“do what, exactly?” you looked at him, eyebrows furrowed tiredly above your death-gazing eyes.

he poked you with the butt of the cold bottle he held, where beads from it soaked your forehead. “this.” he lectured you again, almost annoying to the ears. “it’s not at all attractive.”

“we both agreed you have better brows than me but ouch that’s rude. i think i’m quite pretty and you know it.” you return a playful poke that had him nearly trampling backwards, a slight sting felt by your ankle once you regained balance.

per usual, you disregarded his innocent comment and continued to monitor the practice via phone. he didn’t mean it and you knew that. taeyong kept bugging you to cool off from work and hang out with them since you were all good friends to begin with. of course that development happened in a span of few months to be able for you all to reach that certain relationship.

however, was it possible to attain the level of intimacy when recently, all you felt from the other guys was the weird gap? you couldn’t even describe the awkward distance. taeyong shook both of his sleeves into sweaterpaws to rub the droplets on your forehead.

“quite pretty? you’re beautiful! you’re like a cool princess every guy wants and i’d honestly date you if what we are isn’t platonic.” he danced in a wave effect with his arm. you gently hit his chest for being very vocal even if it just was the two of you.

“aww, you always know how to make me feel better! thanks.” you sweetly compliment him for a second before your smile turned into a frown.

at the corners of your peripheral, johnny, jungwoo, mark, donghyuck and yuta all averted your scrutiny. the action was obvious and quick, but what made it more suspicious was that it happened respectively like falling dominos. although they did typical and cliché gestures of escapism from your response, still they pretended to ignore you either with their hands shoved in pockets or whistles of their own song.

a surrendering huff caught taeyong’s attention. you never sighed nor show any emotions of distress before and this was a little concerning to him. “what’s wrong y/n?” he turned around to see the others minding their own business despite taeyong already realising the edginess they showed.

“can you help me figure something out with them?” you begged as you tilted your gently slightly to the side. “it’s been weeks and i have no idea why they’re acting this way. am i that unapproachable compared to my seniors?”

taeyong suddenly pursed his lips to a small circle as if he was hiding some top secret information that was ‘exclusive for members only’. “oh- y’know.” he nodded quite repetitively but with hesitating breaks in between. he knew what you were going to ask him since it hasn’t been the first time. he usually could dodge your curiosity and wondered why he couldn’t now. “they’re p-probably just chilling.. like always.. yep.” he popped the ‘p’ and stood. “i’m sure it’s because they’re tired from rehearsals!”

things couldn’t just get any weirder. you squinted your eyes as you scooted in closer to him. “you’re stuttering. you never do that.” you pointed out, observing his wavering eyes. “do you know something-”

he stammered and gently pushed you away a little like it would stop you from asking further. “i-i don’t know what you’re talking a-about.”

“hm you sure about that?” you hummed and he mouthed a ‘yes’. “you don’t know what’s coming after you if i figure it out buddy.”

“i’m sure, y/n. stop being a worrywart.” taeyong pinched your cheeks. “i’ll let know you right away if i hear anything out of the ordinary.”

“uh-huh. jaehyun’s the one i think who’s ’out of the ordinary’. we never talked. just hi’s and bye’s and he doesn’t smile at me.” you commented as you spotted him at the entrance door. “bummer, i really find him good-looking..” your phone buzzed a message from your leader. technically he wasn’t, but a person in-charge of your schedules to teach other idol groups.

somehow you felt a wave of relief that you would be out of the venue for the day. it would be assuring to not be around 127 for a while when they behaved like they did. who knew thinking too much would bring exhaustion? this was more tiring than dancing. a lot more. you swung your phone to taeyong, telling him that you were going to leave. “i gotta go, see you.”

“oh, alright. take care.” taeyong waved subtly, confused as to why you suddenly spoke of jaehyun out of the blue.

you let out a long sigh and exited the venue with thoughts of wonder; they were good people and most definitely you were the approachable type, so why were they keeping distance besides taeyong? johnny, yuta and donghyuck were super friendly, and it’s unlike them to suddenly keep quiet. mark and jungwoo were fun to tease; seeing the expressions they usually don’t put on around you was really fishy. taeil and doyoung have similar affection for you because you were like a little sister and.. jaehyun?

well.. jaehyun’s jaehyun, and among them, he was the far-fetched one. that was what you felt from him,

from the beginning.

because every single time you crossed paths, he would look away right when you locked eyes with him. there was no smile, no expression.

nothing at all.

maybe it pinched your heart a little. and maybe there would be a right time for this. just maybe not today. hopefully that wouldn’t extend for another month. hopefully you would get to talk to him like you did with the rest of them. it was a challenging to be patient when you’ve kind of taken a liking on jaehyun despite the inexplainable treatment. he was.. cute.

once you were out of the group’s sight, jaehyun came in with a duffle bag and a beanie— that basically made his hair in a frenzy- along with taeil & doyoung. he had his arms frantically shaking as if he was trying to reason out. “i can’t hold a normal conversation without tensing up.” he dropped his belongings and joined the crowd, not noticing the growing smirks slowly coming into view from his friends.

“and you think choosing to freeze and stare would make her talk to you?” taeil asked straight up. “that’s called cowardice bro.”

jaehyun combed his hair back and wore his beanie again when the focus was shifted to him. “no it’s not. it’s called being shy.. i guess.” he crossed his arm, unsure of his answer as well.

mark took a sip of watermelon juice, later eyeing a bowl sitting peacefully on one side of the table for seconds. “hyung, do you expect to get closer to y/n if you act like that though?” he gave johnny a side-eye as he hid his smile behind the cup, to whom the latter responded the same.

“all of us are trying to keep quiet of your ecstasy towards her like you asked us to.” jungwoo implored because what was done has to be said eventually. “and now she thinks we’re hiding something from her, i can feel her suspicions for the past weeks.”

“did you make it obvious?” jaehyun hissed a little. “i warned you to act natural-”

johnny wrapped the young man in his arms, earning laughs from the others. “the one who’s not acting natural is you. i thought you’re a straight-forward kind of guy. this should be a piece of cake for you.”

“everyone, please come to the center.” their manager called them to gather up, informing details regarding the next schedule for the week.

sm town concert was just a week away and they’ve been practicing nonstop for it. the exhaustion on their faces fled when the manager said something that would make the fans see them in a different light. some staff giggled at their reactions, some told them to go with it, the rest just wanted to see how it would turn out to be. the boys weren’t expecting it, not at a sudden time like this when they’ve gotten the rundown memorised already.

normally they complied and no arguments were brought forwards. now they managed to scream all vocabularies to reason out that another dance routine would make them more exhausted than before. “we’re not pulling a prank nor a hidden camera if that’s what you’re thinking. anyway, the added part is around a minute interlude.. it’s before the actual track. only one of you will dance it.”

yeses and cheers of relief made majority of the staff exchange looks because they weren’t finish with the information they received. “this interlude is by volunteer, so whoever wants to do it just raise your hand or come up front.” the manager instructed as he wrote down the minutes, later both of his brows arched high forasmuch to his surprise, the decision was quickly decided; it would usually take the boys a while. “oh! thanks for being cooperative, jaehyun! the rehearsal starts tomorrow...”

jaehyun’s head never shot up as fast as it did just now. he didn’t pay attention to the short meeting and since all of the voices were indistinct to him, he was astonished with hearing his name being said. he wondered why they concluded with him doing the interlude. in his head a second ago, he was coming up with plans to finally— and normally— conversate with you. and upon turning around, his friends failed to keep their snickers in. they all simultaneously took a step back, leaving the dimpled boy remain standing in his position.

“...and take ten, then we’ll proceed to the last two songs for today.” the manager left the boys for a break.

wheezing breaths and heavy falls on the floor were soon followed by exploding laughters. they were like fireworks, jolting the nerves out of jaehyun and he rolled his eyes at his friends’ intentions to tease him. “that’s not fair, you guys plotted against me.” he pinched the bridge of his nose when a flush of betrayal finally covered his entire conscience.

they laughed since it was a reaction they expected, but more so when he missed out the most crucial information. “oh my g- he doesn’t know! hahaha!” haechan and jungwoo clung onto each other for support. it was too much to handle.

yuta scooted close to johnny, who had his phone up the whole time. “that was on record, yeah?” he asked and the latter grinned devilishly.

“rgha!” jaehyun growled, soon accepting the role that was predestined to him. “i swear john if you-”

“he didn’t really hear it!” mark cut him off and joined the younger ones, hitting each other and as they couldn’t believe that jaehyun, could be this dense. “wow this is insane!”

jaehyun’s ears turned faint pink. he didn’t like the excessive attention he was getting from his friends, and he has no idea what the sudden outbursts were all about. “hear what, exactly?” he had a petulant expression and shifted his weight on one leg as he waited for the answer.

taeyong choked a giggle at his question. it was similar with yours when you innocently asked earlier. “jaehyun, he said the other half of the remix duet is y/n. you’ll dance with her tomorrow, and until the concert.”

his heart pumped so fast that he didn’t know how to react; whether it was due to obvious fact that he would see you again for the third time this week, or it was your name and his.. in the same sentence.

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if there was something you didn’t like to experience again in your life, that would be spraying your nose in public. good grief, and it had to happen nearby the boys. you shut your eyes closed at the sprinkly yet piercing shock rising up from the nostrils to your head. after few seconds of calming down, youngjoon pat your head as if that would bring you comfort. not really.

“i thought hana’s doing the nct dance duet?” you rubbed the small tears from the corners of your eyes, the striking pain still lingered around your senses a little.

he shrugged that his shoulders the action made you think he has something to do with the sudden change of plans. but assuming too much would ruin your mood and affect the way you dance later, so you let it slide for today.

“i’m your senior. you’ll do what i decided on,” he gave you his phone; the title of the track was one that you were told to choreograph. “it’s about time your monitoring days are over. anyway, you’ll dance with..” youngjoon trailed off himself.

you scanned the spacious venue to figure who he was referring to. none came into your mind until jaehyun walked past by you, and youngjoon pulled him close. “ah! with him!”

oh great, i’m dancing with mr. far-fetched.

staring off into space, taeyong appeared briefly in your peripheral, mouthing that jaehyun ‘volunteered’ for the interlude— which didn’t really add up why he would decide to do this performance when he hasn’t talked to you at all.

it was funny how friendly and warm jaehyun was to your fellow choreographers. he would smile freely and offer spare bottles or snacks. however, he looked stiff now and you craved for answers for strange his behaviour. still, you would be lying to yourself if you said he somehow made you.. squirmy, in a good way.

“let’s work well.” he heard you speak as you began to walk to the centre of the venue, jaehyun soon following you from behind.

he noticed the boys sitting on bleachers for a break, secretly snapping pictures to tease him later on. they mouthed and told him to talk— he was leaving you hanging and making a lady wait for a response was not a gentleman thing to do. he was stunned with your natural beauty and to think you were before him, just made him realise that this was the chance,

to get closer.

because remembering what taeyong told him yesterday, his friends told him to step up his game after it was revealed you found him good-looking. that alone should be enough for jaehyun to have the courage to hold a conversation with you. soon jaehyun cleared his throat, pulled his t-shirt collar and bit his inner gums. “yeah, likewise.” jaehyun cleared his throat. “this should be easy. where should we begin?”

“this is the track we’re dancing to.” you fished out your phone to let him listen to the new version, noticing how youngjoon nod at you.

the said man approached, whispering words that had you wanting to facepalm. a gasp escaped your lips and jaehyun raised a brow in curiosity. “i’m gonna kill her-” your face bubbled up in subtle anger.

jaehyun couldn’t hear much, the volume of the interlude was loud enough to make your voices inaudible. he wasn’t good at lip reading too, but he felt different when his eyes met with yours. a smile you wore earlier flattened, your positivity was still there, yet little did he know the changes made on the spot. youngjoon walked back to the mixer and made jaehyun’s hair a mess.

oh how the gods and goddesses of love must’ve liked shooting arrows continuously at his barely-comprehending mind. he almost ran out of breath hearing those words come out of your mouth and he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy for him.

because to him you were a beautiful distraction.

he recalled how you first met in the practice room during kick-it era; comfy clothes, a chill person with light make-up colours and pretty much his friends instantly introduced themselves. he wished that he was close to you as taeyong was. hopefully by the time the whole concert video was out, fans wouldn’t make a meme out of him given the fact that they did when mc-ing for broadcasts, he unknowingly created a gap between himself and other girl groups.

half an hour had passed and perhaps at this minute, you decided to take back what you said; that they were fast learners. proven you wrong, again. some of them were but jaehyun kept messing up and you were close to losing your patience. he couldn’t get things right. whenever you asked him if he was alright, he claimed to have gotten the hang of the steps taught earlier.

what a lie that was. so far he has stepped your shoes, bumped you though they were minor, and missed some moves. what made you teeth grit was that he looked like he wasn’t aware he did those at all.

ugh look at him. he can do better than this. if he doesn’t catch up, i’m requesting for another member to dance with me.

although he quickly memorised his solo part before dancing with you, the one second break in between have already made him forget the next step. he wasn’t in the right mind, he knew that much and was continuously questioned himself why he lost concentration. dancing with naeun was an exemption. she was a fellow mc, and even then he was shy to hold her hand. but this? this was different. this was more than just holding hands. this included skinship he has never done before, let alone executing intimate movements.

“pretend you’re pulling a lever as she flicks her hips side and back the second time. your hands should be by her hips.” youngjoon instructed, observing jaehyun’s shaky movements at the mirror reflection with reference from the video you sent him before. “good. jae, body wave to the left. y/n to the right and both swing your shoulders outwards..”

but if he wasn’t in the right mind, you were slowly getting there too. the more you were faced with jaehyun, the more you head became fuzzy. you could feel yourself heating up and this wasn’t due to the dance at all. “y/n, caress his jaw and grab him close.”

jaehyun gulped, trying not mind his friends and focus on the routine. “oi, step in closer.” your senior said, nudging the boy at the back. “i said closer like you’re hugging her- ah.” youngjoon realised he made a mistake. the boy froze again and his figure hovered you, the lights above blocked by his shocked expression.

you were falling back.

at this rate, both of you might cause the other an embarrassment of a lifetime. you braced for impact and it was written on your face. jaehyun saw how you shut your eyes. he was afraid of injuring you and somehow did the unthinkable; not even his friends expected that from him and were worried the big guy might crush you. he flipped you around the moment you both were inches above the ground, landing on him instead. “mfgh. ow.” you heard him groan, followed by few gasps and shocked voices.

hesitantly, you opened an eye and felt his palms around your torso. he too had a sour face from the fall. “that was close.” jaehyun squinted you take a peek of you and let out a sigh, which already brought guilt showering over you. “glad you’re not injured-”

“are you two alright?” hana with concern, asked as others repeated the same question.

you got up to sit on your calves in apology but soon spotted hana and youngjoon grinning like their plan worked. so they did have something to do with this. “are you an idiot??” you sighed with a drumming heart, taking jaehyun aback. “you’re performing in two days and it’s best if i’m injured than you are.”

“hey, you’re dancing too..” jaehyun chuckled though was surprised with your sudden fits and tone of your voice, standing up to lend a hand. “..so it’s best if you’re not injured.”

he waited for you to respond to his offer and as you took it, you felt a painful throb at the left ankle. tsk, must’ve twisted a bit it when we fell. dammit jaehyun. you cleared your throat loudly. it came out more of a growl in an annoyed tone. “look, i don’t think you get it. you have two days to practice and there‘s only one you. there are many dancers who can replace me-”

“no, i don’t think you get it. you’re the only one who knows the choreography. you’re basically irreplaceable.”

perhaps if this was told to you in a different sight, you would be squirmy and walking on flowers now. but this was nothing of it. you had to remain professional and set your personal feelings aside.

“not unless if another dancer perfects the dance in two days..” you trailed off.

“okay okay, stop the talking and continue where you both left off. a fall like that shouldn’t be a reason why you’re quarrelling.” youngjoon clapped his hands, moving you in front of jaehyun to start from the top.

when you said that, jaehyun was unsure why you were suddenly irritated. he held his position for the duet before speaking words that had you all fluttery again. “well, i’m dancing with you and staff said it’s final.”

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the following day, your ankle swelled overnight and informed that you would teach jaehyun and yeri, whom you’ve chosen to be his dance partner— the only idol available prior to nct 127’s performance. you crossed arms, observing how she got the steps quicker than jaehyun. “i want you to pop your hips a little more and match the timing with jaehyun. look at him intently before he holds your hand and you letting go.”

a pout then was seen on her face, hesitant and shy to do what you instructed. “i know it’s weird but i’d like you to think what you’re doing is art..” you tried to sound encouraging and later saw jaehyun taking a break at the far end of the stage. “just expressed in forms of movements.”

yeri stifled a laugh, feeling a lot better now she saw how you looked at her fellow label-mate. “yeah that’s not how jaehyun sees it-” she hushed immediately for speaking her thoughts. “y/n, how has he not learned his part yet? didn’t you teach him yesterday?”

“trust me i did! jaehyun’s a great artist but he just doesn’t seemed focused like i imagined him to be.” you took a bite from your sandwich, and yeri giggled that you unconsciously ignored the first half of her sentence. “i mean his solo was a 15-second one. i don’t see why he would forget the rest of the 35-seconds.”

she pursed her lips and took sight of taeyong winking at her, hinting your density with these situations. “well i think he actually got the steps now.” she arched her brows, pointing at the direction where jaehyun was at. “i heard he works hard alone- not that i’m offending you! you’re a great teacher and dancer!”

you smiled as you crumpled the plastic wrap and tossed it in the bin. “none taken, i kinda understand why he would be nervous around me.”

her ears perked up and pulled you to the side. “ooh ooh you do? what is it? i’m in for the tea!”

“i pull a resting face while i monitor them. probably why he found it hard to approach me. he thinks i’m the kind who doesn’t want to be disturbed.” you and yeri walked further off the stage to sit at the very front.

she held her chest hearing how awful you might’ve felt from him. “aw that’s bitter tea! y/n i’m sure he doesn’t think that way! it just takes time, might be longer than the other guys but you���ll get there.”

“get to where?”

“to being friends, and not only the professional level.”

at another side of it, taeyong and the rest heard the whole conversation. they shared looks knowing that they had to relay the news to jaehyun, who was staring at you giggling away with yeri. he met eyes with them and had a thin lipped smile, walking towards his friends. “you guys are weird, quit the creepy smiles.”

doyoung smacked the boy’s head for the density his currently possessed. “do you know the impression she has on you?”

“who? yeri?”

now it was taeil’s turn to smack his head. “y/n, you dimwit.” he sighed, looking at your silhouette under dimmed light then onto jaehyun. “she thinks you’re great..”

“but what you do around her seems to have shown you’re not interested in her.” jungwoo completed his sentence.

jaehyun never felt so attacked by both from them and the facts thrown upon him. “what? no! i am interested in her!”

“then tell her that. it isn’t that hard to say you’re interested in being friends.” haechan bent to release the tension in his muscles.

they wanted to encourage him a little more yet were then called to stand-by for another practice, with the interlude as the beginning. the signal from the staff have ordered for the lightings and music to be queued and readied.

mark nudged him in a strength that nearly made him fall. “hey, it’s about the right time you get closer to her,” he said in a low voice, highkey referring to your ruptured ligament on your ankle yet jaehyun seemed to have missed the point. “or else there’ll be no development.”

jaehyun chugged on his bottle in silence. “what do you mean?”

“youngjoon hyung said she’ll be on leave for weeks. i don’t know how long but if you don’t do anything now, you’ll continue to live up to the impression without even talking to her.” he explained and cringed afterwards feeling taeyong and johnny’s presence among them.

“show her that what she choreographed for us is not in vain, okay?” johnny made his hair a mess, before leaving the stage to go to where you were. the stage director said his count down. you cheered on yeri with a thumbs up and the music started its tune.

a/n: can’t seem to add song in between texts, so here’s a link instead ;-; let me know if it doesn’t work :3

it was your choreography up there, that was soon to be shown to the world, recorded to be part of the rundown and later burnt in c.d’s. you felt nervous at the fact if they would really execute what you wanted to show— the form of art you put your sweat upon even if it were just 50 seconds. when jaehyun began taking yeri’s hand after his solo part, leading her then mirroring her movements, your heart squeezed for no reason. they should be able to nail this part until the last beat of the song.

but as you clenched your chest to prevent your hands from shaking, taeyong saw your expression, convincing him enough that your reaction towards this said otherwise.

the boys usually held a small dinner a day prior to the concert, for a good show and performance. yuta decided to invite you to a japanese restaurant nearby so you wouldn’t feel left out or feel a lot distant than you already were with them.

you prepared your essentials before meeting them, the tapes of your ankle band came loose and you reached to adjust it as discomfort was all you felt for a while. jaehyun knelt down to sit across you, licking his dry lips to simmer the nervousness he felt inside. “do you need help?” he asked when you looked up to notice his presence. “or is there anything i can do to help?”

“y-yeah. it needs a proper tightness to it.” you gave a faint nod. he smiled and held your left leg to rest it on his thigh.

silence was slowly killing him, he had to admit that at least. now that you both conversed, what then? would this just be another acquaintance talk like yesterday, where it was only a mere one? nothing else to it? nothing happened?

jaehyun wanted to set the professionalism to the side, heed to his friends’ words and actually become close to you. perhaps put his feelings for you behind him for the meantime. “sorry.” he conceded, which made you confused for a second. “i’m sorry.”

“from the fall yesterday?” you stretched back that your palms were your support as he taped the band around. jaehyun shook his head, making you more confused. “then what are you apologising for?”

“for making you feel like i didn’t want to talk to you since you arrived.”

you stared at him, lips parting when you finally grasped his purpose. “oh.. that! it’s okay. i’m not expecting to be that level of friends immediately.” you chuckled awkwardly because it was a bit of a lie. i mean it took a while to be good friends with the others-”

“i’m sorry that i chose not to talk to you and it might have given you a bad impression of me.” he took your shoe so you could wear and head to the restaurant. “i guess it really is difficult to when i admire you a lot. heck i even asked my groupmates to tone down their knowledge about that because they have plans to embarrass-”

he jolted at the drop of your phone and your sigh, eyes wandering and wavering at it then looking to you. he helped you stand up and when he did too, you sighed heavier, flattened lips and a smile. “my anxiety convinced me that you hated me.” you confessed, finally letting out the worry that has been bothering you for months.

you shyly looked back at him and noticed how he was fidgety as you were. you couldn’t handle the visuals he has— even more now that he was close to you. so ethereal and magnetising.

maybe this was what the somersaults you’ve been feeling all the time. the unexplainable gut feeling that you’d be pulled into something you couldn’t handle?

it was him.

jaehyun panicked at the word. “h-hate? i don’t! not even a bit. i really like you!” he sputtered, then waving his hands to deny his feelings. “i mean like as in like you as person and your dedication to all this.”

“heh..” you both turned to the voice and taeyong smirked what he heard. “just tell her already, jae.” he pointed out, and you were left clueless as they shared the same brain cell. jaehyun’s eyes grew, hoping that his friend wouldn’t expose him, but taeyong answered him with his eyes, as if his voice was almost telepathic.

‘not confessing! you’re not at that intimacy level yet! tell y/n that you wanna hang with her!’

“i-i just wanna get closer to you?” he pondered, scratching his neck from the tornado of feelings whirling inside. “as friends, not as workmates or anything.” he waited for your response, staring in your magnetising orbs that lured him into something deeper.

“we would’ve been if we talked earlier on.” you smiled, hinting that you didn’t mind taking that step with him too. “but yeah, same here, jaehyun.”

jaehyun smiled genuinely at you for the first time, no awkwardness nor forcing himself to. “yes!” he had his fists up with ecstasy that you said his name, only to panic at the time. the dinner was already starting.

taeyong exhaled and swung his arms to let the blood flow normally. “ah, now that’s settled. let’s get to the restaurant too.”

you punched his arm and he flinched at the impact and hissed that it came out more of a question than a reaction you expected. “what you get for lying that you didn’t know anything.” you stuck a tongue out.

“and i’m supposed to pay the price for it?” he rubbed to sooth the pain. “not fair.”

walking to the backstage, you slowly lifted your foot to head down the stairs. “don’t worry, they’ll get their punches from me real soon.” you whistled.

jaehyun took your hand, supporting your weight at the same time. he couldn’t rush you in the state you’re in.

“what about jaehyun? he’s the one who did all this, and had the rest of us included.” taeyong jut his lips to point to the boy, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jackets. “he should get a punch too.”

“i’m not punching someone who wants to be closer to me. it’s not a good.. first impression.” you hid a laugh with flattened lips, jaehyun mirrored you and gave a flirty wink.

with that, he managed to magnetise you, just to make his gap with you,

closer.

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Competition

note: I just felt like writing some angry, jealous Chris...enjoy :)

words: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, alcohol, unprotected sex

"I am Chris Cuomo, live from New York with my collegue Y/N Y/L/N, keeping you updated on this 2020 presidential election all through the night.”

The camera switched to you as you greeted the viewers before handing it over to Phil on the magic wall, right in time so the giant yawn you had to let out wasn’t caught live.

"Pull yourself together, Y/L/N.“ Chris whispered across the anchor desk and discreetly slid a cup of coffee your way.

You rolled your eyes at him, that was easier said than done. It was the second night of the election coverage and you ran on nothing but naps and caffeine for two days now. You spent all your time off air preparing your nightly coverage, doing panels for the day shift, keeping track with the incoming numbers and doing calculations. It was exhausting, and you had no idea how Chris managed to not only be wide awake, but also look impeccable doing so.

It was the first major event the two of you had covered as co-anchors, you had never worked with him before and maybe that was for the better. Because while he was a brilliant journalist and you had already learned a lot from him, he also was a huge pain in the ass, and the fact that he teased you all the time was only made worse by the surge of heat that went through you every time he stared at you with those damn blue eyes.

Yes, you had a slight crush on him, but you blamed it entirely on sleep deprivation and would never even dream about acting on it. You had this big event to cover, and that’s where all you focus was, or at least should be.

The camera swayed back to you right in time for you to announce a key race alert, calling the next state for Biden. A good way to start the night.

+++

"And that’s it from us in New York, I’m Chris Cuomo and I’m now handing over to my colleagues in Washington, our live coverage on CNN continues after a short break. Thanks for spending your night with us.”

“Fuck me.“ you murmured, slumping your head down into the anchor desk as soon as the cameras were off.

You were absolutely bone tired, and you only had about a 10 hour break before preparations for the next night started, because there was no chance the race was going to be called in the next hours.

“Y/N?” one of the producers called your way. “Washington asks if they can have you up for a panel discussion at 10, and maybe another one in the afternoon?”

You groaned and just gave a thumbs up, it wasn’t like you had planned on going home anyways.

Deciding to squeeze in a nap in your office, you got up from your chair to at least get a couple hours of sleep. You walked through the hallways like a zombie, and didn’t pay any attention to where you were going until you ran right into a huge body, colliding with the persons chest with a huff.

“Come on, Y/L/N, too tired to keep your eyes open?” Someone chuckled, and you groaned internally. Cuomo was one of the last people you wanted to see now.

“Sorry, We can’t all be super humans who don’t need sleep.” You muttered, and tried to keep walking, but a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“You’re staying here until tonight?” Chris asked, and you just nodded tiredly in response.

"Join me in my office for a drink then?” He asked, and your eyebrows shot up.

“You keep alcohol here, Cuomo?”

“Of course.” He chuckled. “Emergency use only, but the craziness of those past hours calls for it, and you really look like you could use one.”

He was right, a drink sounded like heaven, and you were way too tired to be rational right now.

+++

“Shit, this is good.” You sighted, taking another sip of the scotch Chris had poured you, your head slumping back on the backrest of his comfortable leather couch.

Chris had already downed his drink and was now watching you from an armchair across from you.

“You need to toughen up.”he suddenly said.

“You’re doing a good job, you’re driven and intelligent. But you let stuff get to you too quickly. You need to stay focused 24/7, even under pressure like tonight, or the job will break you at some point.”

You blushed furiously, what he said hadn’t sounded mean or condescending at all, but you still got defensive.

“I didn’t have one single slip those past two days, cut me some slack, Cuomo, were all tired.” you snapped.

Chris face stayed as calm as his voice.

“I’m tired, yes, but you don’t see me yawning in front of the camera. You looked cute, don’t get me wrong, but I doubt the bosses will see it the same way.” He chuckled, and you couldn’t believe your ears.

“I am not cute, I’m an anchor just as you are.” You hissed, your fists clenched in your lap. You got up from his couch. “I’m leaving now, I don’t need your condescending shit.”

Before you even reached the door, Chris had already caught your arm, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, holding you back.

“Hey, no need to be cross, I was joking.”

He took a step closer to you, and you got a whiff of his aftershave mixed with the whiskey he just had. He smelled like heaven, and looked so stupidly good, even in his wrinkled dress shirt and with circles under his eyes, you hated him a bit for it.

You took a step back, hitting the office door behind you. Chris was so close now, watching you with dark eyes and a curious expression on his face.

“Well it wasn’t funny.“ you whispered, unable to come up with a better response. Your brain was fuzzy with alcohol and sleep deprivation, and couldn’t handle the situation.

"Or maybe you just need to loosen up a bit.“ Chris grinned, cocking his head to the side.

Looking back, you weren’t sure what made you do what you did next, maybe it was the whisky, or the lack of proper sleep, or both, but grabbed the fabric of Chris dress shirt and yanked him down, crashing your mouth onto his.

He appeared suprised and didn’t move for a second, but then his hands grabbed your arms and pressed you back against the door. He deepened the kiss, but just as you tried to reach out to bury your hand in his hair, he suddenly took a huge step back.

"You need to leave.“ he pressed out, even if his body language clearly said the opposite.

"What’s gotten into you?“ you asked, confused and slightly irritated.

“There’s no way in hell we’re doing this. Not here, not now, not ever.”

“But you just-“

“Look, I’m m sorry if I sent you the wrong signal, but we can’t do this. I know, we’re both tired and we had a drink and everything. But we’re working together. This isn’t right.” He let out a deep breath, before his face hardened. “I really think it would be best if you leave now. I’ll see you later, once we’re back on air.”

You felt absolutely mortified, you had been convinced that Chris had wanted the same thing, had you really been reading him so wrong?

You didn’t want to be in that situation any longer, already feeling the embarrassing sting of rejection manifesting itself with a giant flush creeping onto your face.

So you did the only thing you could come up with, you ran, locking yourself in your office and dreading facing Chris again.

+++

The joy and relief over the Biden victory had erased most of the exhaustion and pent up frustration you and the whole CNN team had felt during that election week. The guy who hated your network and the way each of you did their job was finally out of the White House, and that was a definitely reason to celebrate.

You were currently all gathered in the main office space where the bosses had thrown together a party, their way of appreciating your hard work during election week. There was music, amazing food and, much to your delight, an open bar.

It would’ve been a great evening if it wasn’t for the almost unbearable tension still hanging in the air between you and Chris. Looking back, you had no idea how you had managed to keep it so professional during the coverage following your encounter in his office.

Of course, being serious journalists, you didn’t let it show that there was any animosity between the two of you, but as soon as the cameras were off, Chris either completely ignored you or fled the room as fast as he could.

You tried not to take it personally, but it still hurt, and even talking to him on air without showing that was incredibly difficult for you.

Now, you hadn’t spoken to him at all in the three days since the election was over, and you had finally decided that he wasn’t worth the many thoughts you had spent on him.

You wanted to have some fun tonight, have a chat and some drinks with your colleagues and not think about Chris Cuomo.

Which was pretty hard, considering that his huge frame was almost impossible to miss in the crowd, and you had felt his eyes on you more than once.

But you stood your ground, trying your best to appear unimpressed as you joked around with some blokes from the production team. One of them, a guy called Jim, seemed a bit into you, and you decided some harmless flirting wouldn’t hurt. The last days had been physically and emotionally exhausting, so some light banter was just what you needed.

You were in the midsts of laughing about a story Jim had just told, when your eyes caught Chris staring at you from across the room. And for some reason, he looked really mad.

You just raised your eyebrows at him and turned your attention back to your colleague. But you were only listening with half an ear, your thoughts were circling around Chris again.

What was the matter with him? It was when Jim put his hand on your arm and you saw Chris throwing another murderous stare your way that you realized what was happening.

Time for some fun, you thought, and leaned closer to your admirer to whisper into his ear.

“Would you be a dear and get us some more drinks?“

You laughed theatrically when he agreed, just for the effect, hoping Chris would see it. But when you looked up, he was nowhere to be found.

Jim was making his way to the bar now, so you decided to use the restroom real quick. You were just walking through the hallway, when suddenly, someone roughly grabbed your arm from behind you.

“You’re coming with me.” Chris growled and dragged you into the closest room, which did just happen to be his office.

As soon as the door slammed behind you, he had backed you up against it, his huge frame towering over you.

“Cuomo, what the fuck are you doing?” You spat, trying to get away, but his arms were on either side of your head, effectively trapping you. Your heart was beating like crazy, a sign of your treacherous body reacting to Chris’ closeness.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?” Chris growled, “You like playing games with me?”

You were really annoyed now, he had no right to just treat you this way. But you couldn’t deny the the burn of arousal in your lower stomach at seeing him so worked up.

“Games? What’s your fucking problem, Cuomo? you can’t just drag me in here like that.”

“What were you doing with that asshole out there? That your new boyfriend?”

“Oh my god, are you serious?” You yelled back. “You were the one who basically kicked me out of your office the other day, and now you’re actually asking me-“

Before you could finish, Chris kissed you, pressing you against the door with his body. The kiss was almost brutal, his teeth clashing against yours, he bit your lip and his tongue plunged into your mouth.

It had you clawing your hands into his shirt, your arousal kickstarting as a noticeable bulge pressed against your stomach.

Your need for the man, that you had carefully bottled up for about a week now, was now hitting you with full force.

“What are you doing?” You gasped between kissed, your breath already rigged from arousal. You wanted him so bad, your whole body screaming to be touched by the man in front of you.

“Shut up.” Chris growled, his huge hands sliding under your dress to squeeze your ass. You moaned into his mouth, palming his rock hard erection through his trousers before starting to work on his belt buckle.

The groan Chris let out against the skin of your neck he was currently kissing sent a pool of wetness between your legs, and you doubled your efforts to finally get him out of his clothes.

When his huge cock finally sprung free, you couldn’t suppress a moan at the thought of feeling him inside you. It earned you a smug chuckle from Chris.

“Stop laughing and fuck me.”you whined, and he grabbed your panties, effortlessly tearing the thin lace from your body, bunching up your dress around your hips in the process, leaving your dripping core completely bare.

“Those were my favorites, Cuomo.” You growled, but he just gave you a sharp slap to your ass.

“I don’t fucking care, baby.”Chris replied, and before you could come up with a snarky remark, a huge finger slowly got pushed into you, making you throw your head back as you let out a needy whine.

“More, please.” You whispered.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, baby, I’ll give you everything you want.” Chris replied, withdrawing his fingers.

He picked you up and pushed you against the door with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs. You didn’t care. He gave you one last hard stare before he slammed you down onto his cock without warning.

“Fuck.”You cried out , biting your fist to stop yourself from making any more noise, the office walls were thin.

“You like that baby? You think that damn boy out there could ever fuck you like that?”Chris pressed out, his hips thrusting in and out of you in a relentless pace. His brows were furrowed, teeth bared. He looked feral, aggressive, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs hard enough to bruise. You were transfixed by his face, your eyes locked on his as he pounded into you harder and harder.

“I asked you a fucking question, could he ever fuck you like that?”

“No, never.” You cried out, your voice almost breaking.

“Shit, Chris, don’t stop, please.” you pleaded, throwing your head back against the door with each of his thrusts. You were not above begging, there was that raw possessiveness in his voice and the way he manhandled you, and it drove you wild. You had fully succumbed to him by now, going limp in his arms as your body shook with every hard snap of his hips.

“Look at me.” Chris snarled, delivering a particularly forceful slam, making your head snap up, your eyes meeting his.

“That fucking punk won’t ever touch you again.“ Chris accentuated his words by grabbing you even more roughly.

“You’re being ridic-shiiit.” You groaned, as Chris pressed you down onto his cock, hitting that sweet spot. He was so deep inside you, and when he dug his nails into the flesh of your tights, the sweet flash of pain pushed you right over the edge.

All the built up tension of the last days left your body as you clenched around Chris cock, trying to muffle your cries by burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“That’s it, fucking squeeze my cock, baby.” He breathed into your ear, giving a few more sloppy thrusts before he tensed up and spilled inside you.

He lowered you back onto your feet and you slumped back against the door before Chris carefully maneuvered you over to his couch, sitting down beside you.

“Where the hell did that come from?”You broke the silence. You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around what just had happened, but there was no denying that you had enjoyed the hell out of it. Your body was still tingling with the afterglow of your orgasm.

“I did some thinking, and decided that I need to stop being an asshole and go for what I want.“ Chris shrugged. "I wanted to apologize and talk to you first. But when I saw this jerk putting his hands on you, I just snapped.“

“Glad you finally came to your senses, you were acting like a total idiot” you said, seriously at first, before a grin took over your face. “But I forgive you, we have a party to get back to, my bathroom break is already taking way too long. But how does dinner tomorrow night sound?”

“Great, actually.” Chris replied, giving you the first sincere smile that evening, and maybe the most sincere you had ever seen from him. "But stay away from that guy, or I’ll drag you in here again.“

[ya-girl-mc]

Hammered

Character: Tsukishima Kei × Fem Reader

Concept: Y/N joins Tsukishima and his colleagues for a night of drinking, but ends up embarrassing him as she gets wasted

A/N: Cause I miss getting drunk and doing stupid shit, hence this fic feat. our salty boi ✌ it was rly fun to write this so,, hope u enjoy it too!!

☆☆ A Haikyuu!! Fanfiction ☆☆

Light filtered through the window blinds, rousing Y/N from her slumber as she pried her eyes open, cursing to herself as she felt a stinging pain in her temples. She was hungover, pretty badly at that, and as much as she wracked her brain to try and recall the events that transpired the night before, it only made her headache much worse.

Shit...I don't feel so good.

As her eyes darted around, she was immediately relieved knowing that she was lying down on the couch in her and Tsukishima's living room, managing to deduce - despite her muddled state-of-mind - that someone must have taken care of her in her drunken stupor.

Gritting her teeth, Y/N tried to sit up slowly, wincing as her temples prickled with pain with every movement. In her peripheral vision, however, was her livid-looking boyfriend with probably the deepest scowl she's ever seen as he stared her down from where he sat.

"Kei...?"

"Did you sleep well?" While the inquiry was meant to be out of concern, Tsukishima delivered it in a monotonous, yet utterly chilling manner which only meant one thing: he was pissed.

"What happened? And what's got you frowning so early in the morning?" She carefully questioned, eager yet dreading to find out how she must have royally screwed up the night before to get him this upset. Her curiosity only infuriated Tsukishima more and Y/N could have almost sworn seeing a blackish aura swirl around him.

"You...you really don't remember a damn thing, do you?"

*****

Fridays were usually the most anticipated day of the week for most members of the working class; however, in Tsukishima's case, he was dreading this Friday in particular.

After a strenuous week at the office, his boss suggested the entire team go drinking to reward themselves for their hard work and as a means to de-stress. But, Tsukishima wasn't keen on partaking in such nights of revelry especially after a long week at work as he'd rather spend his Friday nights and weekends relaxing at home with Y/N. The only reason that he decided to tag along is due to her persistence for him to do so.

Sighing deeply to himself, Tsukishima followed his colleagues as they entered the izakaya, chattering excitedly as they settled in at a long table at the far back. Amongst the clientele for that night, one of them in particular caught his attention, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Y/N?"

She was sat on one of the stools overlooking the kitchen. At the sound of her name, she turned towards its source and grinned widely. "Kei! Fancy running into you here and I see that you're also with your team. Good boy!"

He subtly rolled his eyes and sat down on the stool next to hers, unable to fight off a smile that made its way to his face. "Yeah yeah, if I didn't join them I'd never hear the end of it from you. Anyway, are you here alone?"

"Yeah, just stopped by on the way home from work to pick up some gyoza and katsudon for dinner. But wait, maybe I should have gotten takoyaki, too? Or maybe another serving of gyoza-" Y/N rambled as she grabbed the menu, her eyes scanning rapidly over the items.

He just gazed at her in amusement, completely oblivious to the inquisitive stares his co-workers shot their way. Tsukishima in the workplace was usually placid, reserved, and mostly impassive; seeing his relaxed and pleasant demeanor as he interacted with Y/N was especially intriguing to them, wondering amongst themselves just who that woman was in Tsukishima's life.

Keen on finding out the answer, one of his senpais called him over to their table. It suddenly dawned on him that there was no other choice than to formally introduce Y/N to them. And, he definitely was not looking forward to it as he'd never hear the end of their relentless teasing. "Y/N, would you mind coming along with me for a bit?"

Discreetly straightening her clothes and smoothening her hair, Y/N nodded and followed him to where his co-workers sat, anxious to make a good first impression. At their arrival, they immediately trained their gazes on her, just as eager to find out who she was. "Everyone, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. We live together," Tsukishima stated nonchalantly.

The shock on their faces was borderline comical as they stared back at him, their jaws hanging open in disbelief. "Girlfriend?!"

He sighed, already dreading the uproar they're about to cause. Tsukishima was a private person and rarely talked about his personal life as he maintained a firm work-life boundary. It was not like he was embarrassed to introduce his girlfriend to them; he just perceived the entire ordeal to be troublesome as his colleagues would jump at any chance to find something to tease him about.

Y/N straightened herself and bowed. "Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N. Thank you very much for taking care of Kei - I mean - Tsukishima all this time."

"I can't believe this!" One of his kouhais wailed. "To think that an office drone like Tsukishima-senpai has a girlfriend, and a very pretty one at that. So what the hell am I exactly doing wrong?"

"Believe me, I could tell you everything that you need to hear," Tsukishima retorted and shot his kouhai a dagger-like glare.

One of his senpais, a man who looked to be in his late 30's, leaned over and flicked his kouhai on the forehead as he winced in response. "Stop bad-mouthing Tsukishima when his girlfriend's literally standing in front of you. Anyway, nice to meet you, Y/N!"

They instantaneously began bombarding her with questions such as "how did you two meet", "how long have you been together", "what do you do for a living", and "of all men, why Tsukishima." Unable to keep up with what almost seemed like an interrogation by his colleagues, Y/N smiled sheepishly and shot Tsukishima a pleading look, silently begging him to bail her out.

"That's enough, all of you. You're creeping the poor lady out." Y/N turned to the man that sat at the head of the table; he exuded authority which practically gives himself away as the boss. Bringing up a cup of sake to his lips, he took a sip and eyed his subordinates sternly, yet the amusement in his gaze was palpable as he shifted his attention to Y/N. "Sorry about that, we just didn't expect our lone wolf Tsukishima to have a girlfriend, so we're all excited to meet you. If you don't mind, maybe you can join us, Y/N?"

"Sir-" Tsukishima began to protest as he felt the work-life boundary he stubbornly maintained begin to crumble; but to his surprise, Y/N seemed keen on accepting the invitation, a bashful smile on her face.

"I'd be happy to, but I wouldn't want to impose-"

"You won't, don't worry about it!" He assured dismissively and proceeded to order another round of drinks and accompanying snacks. "It's a pleasure of ours to get to know you and finally get a glimpse of Tsukishima's life outside of work."

Flattered and amused at how especially eager they seemed to know more about their enigmatic colleague and his girlfriend, Y/N gratefully accepted the invitation. "Alright, a few drinks wouldn't hurt."

*****

"Okay, I remember that much...but it still doesn't explain why you're so pissed," Y/N mused, listening earnestly to Tsukishima as he filled her in on what seemed like a disastrous night of revelry caused by her drunken antics.

He sighed and took off his glasses to rub his temples, the events that transpired the night before seemingly traumatizing him. "That's because you got carried away, you idiot."

*****

A couple of shots was all it needed for Y/N to become fully accustomed with Tsukishima's colleagues and pretty soon, they were chattering away like long-time friends while he fixated his gaze on her, his eyebrows furrowing in mild displeasure.

Aren't they becoming a little bit too friendly with her? And Y/N's just two shots in and she's already starting to get tipsy. Geez, this is so troublesome.

"Hey, one at a time please! I'll answer your questions one by one," Y/N instructed quite giddily, Tsukishima gazing at her in concern as she downed her third shot. He didn't want to be a buzzkill especially when she seemed to genuinely enjoy his colleagues' company and vice versa; however, her alcohol tolerance was remarkably low and it didn't take much for her to become fully inebriated. He decided to keep a watchful eye on her instead to prevent any incident from occurring due to her drunken antics.

"So, how and when did you two meet?"

"Kei and I go way back in high school," Y/N began as everyone at the table listened to her attentively. "He was part of our school's volleyball team and looked so cool as he played! That's when I started to have a crush on him, but it was one-sided though."

And there goes her filter, Tsukishima thought to himself, concealing his exasperation by downing his cup of sake, trying as best as he can to drown out the uproar his colleagues caused at her revelation.

"No way! Tsukishima-senpai was a volleyball player? I just can't imagine that!" One of his kouhais exclaimed, completely perplexed at the thought.

Tsukishima was about to reply with another snide remark, but Y/N was quick to interject. "Hell yeah he was, and he's such a great middle blocker to boot. He played so calmly as he read his opponent's moves...ahhh that composure of his is what makes him so cool!"

While he appreciated her attempt to defend his honor, it only increased everyone's amusement as she fawned over him, much to his chagrin. "So Y/N-" One of his senpais grinned sneakily, and Tsukishima pretty much figured out what the next inquiry will be about. "-who confessed to whom?"

"Oh, that takes me way back!" She mused, leaning against the man in question who sat right next to her. "I didn't have the courage to confess since he seemed so unapproachable and indifferent, so I thought about giving up on him. But as we became seniors, we ended up in the same class and became quite close. Eventually, during our graduation ceremony, Kei pulled me aside and confessed! I was so shocked that I started crying and...well, the rest is history."

"So it was Tsukishima here who confessed!" One of his senpais beamed and threw an arm around his shoulder, clinking his sake cup with his. "The revelations just keep on coming and coming."

"But that's amazing though," their boss remarked, completely engrossed in the conversation as much as his subordinates were. "You've been together for such a long time now. It's pretty rare for high school sweethearts to last that long."

Y/N nodded earnestly and downed her fourth shot before Tsukishima had the chance to snatch it away from her hands. "I agree, but Kei is such a caring and thoughtful boyfriend! He may seem like a sour puss on the outside but he's reaaaaaally sweet and very very clingy! But shhhhh...don't tell him I said that, though."

Ugh great, now she's done it. Tsukishima almost had to cover his ears as everyone at the table guffawed, unable to stomach the idea of their placid colleague and the clingy boyfriend Y/N described being the same person. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping and praying for the evening to be over.

*****

Y/N cringed as Tsukishima helped her recall the things she had blurted out amid her inebriated state, starting to slowly understand the reason why he was so livid in the first place. "Okay...first of all, I am so sorry - with every fiber of my being - for embarrassing you like that-"

"That's not all you did," Tsukishima interjected quite menacingly and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to keep his temper in-check. "As if that wasn't humiliating enough, you managed to exceed my expectations."

*****

A couple more shots later, Y/N was too far gone. She was completely wasted, and Tsukishima couldn't bear to look at his co-workers as they shot each other uneasy looks, the concern palpable in their wordless exchanges. He was utterly embarrassed yet frustrated at himself since she somehow managed to surpass her drinking limit despite being under his watchful eye.

"Heyyyyy, owner! Anotha' round of sake for this table right here, and put it on my tab!"

As Y/N made an attempt to leave the table, she accidentally knocked over a half-empty glass of water, the liquid spilling all over the table as a result. Giggling to herself while Tsukishima's colleagues scrambled to remove their belongings from the table, she attempted to grab a bottle of sake, but he swiftly withheld her attempt to do so, yanking it out of her reach.

"Okay, enough is enough," he reprimanded firmly, setting the bottle down on the table and bringing his face close in an attempt to get through to her. "Y/N, for the love of God, please get ahold of yourself."

"Tsukkiiii...you're hereee!" It was futile, Y/N's glassy eyes an indicator that she was in no condition to listen to reason. She smiled goofily and threw herself into his arms, the sheer force causing Tsukishima to stumble, his arm accidentally knocking over a glass to the floor as it completely shattered as a result.

"Shit! I'm so sorry, did anyone get hurt?" He exclaimed in a state of uncharacteristic panic, his arms struggling to support his drunken mess of a lover as she began mumbling unintelligibly to herself.

"We're good, Tsukishima. Don't worry about it," his boss assured. "But, I think it's best if you take her home, she doesn't look too good."

Yes, good call, that's one way to put it. Goddammit, this is too fucking embarrassing.

Pretty soon, the izakaya's owner approached the group amid the commotion, and with Tsukishima sincerely apologizing and swearing to pay for the damages, he also insisted on paying for the entire group's bill to compensate, but they turned down his offer, advising him and Y/N to get themselves home safely.

Tsukishima thought that the nightmare had ended; apparently, Y/N had more in store as she tapped his boss' shoulder, staring down at him in an attempt to look stern. "Hey sirrrr...can you lay off Tsukki sometimes? 'Cuzzzz...he comes home waaayyyy too late and we barely have enough time to get down and dir-"

"NOOO!" Tsukishima cried out in horror, completely and utterly humiliated as he scrambled to clamp his hand over Y/N's mouth in an attempt to salvage what's left of both of their dignities. However, the force caused her to stagger, her unruly arm knocking over a bottle of sake atop the table. Tsukishima was unable to do anything as he hopelessly watched it topple over, the liquid spilling and trickling down on his boss' lap as he felt every ounce of his life force drain out of his body.

God, if you're listening, then please...I don't care how you do it, but I beg of you...just kill me now.

*****

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" Y/N wailed and buried her face in a pillow, unable to bring herself to look at Tsukishima as he unveiled the horrific experience he and his co-workers went through due to her drunken stupor. To say that she was embarrassed was a complete understatement; she was mortified, and it definitely was not an ideal first impression as she mourned for her long gone dignity. "Just kill me, please!"

Tsukishima was practically seething with rage at this point, wishing that the night before had just been a nightmare, yet it was nothing but a cruel reality. "You're embarrassed? How the hell do you think I feel? I lost count of the number of times I had to apologize before I hauled your drunken self home! You literally went crazy, Y/N! How careless, especially knowing that you can't handle alcohol well!"

She deserved to be scolded. Y/N lifted her head from the pillow and looked up at him, her eyes prickling with tears as she wallowed in her shame. "Kei...I'm so sorry. You're right, I was careless and I embarrassed you in front of your co-workers. I really didn't mean to! Oh my god...what if you got fired-" It must have been the after-effects of her hangover that made her an emotional mess as she felt tears running down her face, berating herself for acting in such a distasteful manner - in public and in front of his colleagues, at that.

Tsukishima deeply sighed to regain his composure. He settled down next to his lover on the couch, his hand rubbing across her back as he tried to calm her down. "Don't be ridiculous. I won't get fired over something like that, the boss isn't that shallow. He even called me up as soon as we got home to ask how you were doing."

At his gesture, Y/N bawled even harder, the tears streaming endlessly down her face. "I'm really sorry for ruining your night. I promise that I won't do it again."

"Y/N," Tsukishima began and tipped up her chin, locking his golden eyes with her puffy ones. "Look, I'm even more upset that you weren't being careful. I won't stop you from drinking, but you've got to be more aware of your own limitations. What if I wasn't there with you? What if you were alone and there was no one you trusted to take care of you?"

He's right, I'm such an idiot. I sure as hell won't be drinking anytime soon especially after last night's debacle!

She only managed a nod, sniffing profusely as she fished out her handkerchief to wipe her tear-stained face. "I'm so sorry, Kei. I swear that I'll be careful next time."

"You better be, you drunkard," he playfully retorted, the corners of his mouth subtly twitching upwards at how undeniably adorable she was being.

"So...you're not mad anymore?" Y/N inquired softly, looking up at Tsukishima with pleading eyes. While his earlier rage was now long gone, he did go through quite an ordeal, and he wasn't keen on letting her off the hook that easy as he wickedly grinned at her.

Oh, shit. I don't like that look.

"Sorry Y/N, but you're not getting off that easy. You did humiliate the both of us after all," he stated deviously, his smile widening at the uneasy expression on her face. "So for the next two weeks, you'll be doing all the household chores, and you're on bathroom cleaning duty for the entire month."

She sighed and nodded defeatedly. It was definitely a pain, but Y/N was resolute on serving her punishment to atone for what she did. However, she couldn't help but feel relieved since she had expected something way worse; doing all the household chores seemed quite tame in comparison to what she had imagined.

But then again, this was Tsukishima, and as he sensed her apparent relief, he laid out the pinnacle of her punishment, unable to fight off the sadistic grin on his face. "And, as soon as you're not hungover anymore, we'll be paying each of my colleagues a visit so you can sincerely apologize for what you did."

Y/N gawked at him, her heart dropping to her stomach. "C-come again?" He's not serious. He can't be...right? Right?!

"You heard me." Tsukishima was dead serious. She knew that something was amiss with his household chores punishment; he may be her boyfriend, but he definitely was a sadistic bastard if he needed to be.

"NOOO!" She wailed, completely mortified at the prospect as she began hitting him with the pillow, her hangover being the least of her concerns. "Please Kei, anything but that! I'd rather not meet them again for the rest of my living days, so please!"

Tsukishima chuckled and stilled her movements, staring her down to show just how serious he was. "Well, that just means that this punishment is befitting, right? At least now you'll think twice before letting yourself get wasted again. This will be a good learning experience for you."

Y/N knew that there was no other way to escape from her upcoming predicament. Completely at a loss, she only managed to shoot Tsukishima the harshest glare that she could muster. "Fine. If it will make you happy, you sadistic bastard."

Knowing that he had emerged victorious for this round, he let out a carefree laugh and planted an affectionate kiss atop her disheveled hair. "I appreciate it. Now, let's get that hangover treated real quick."

[elareine]

the song better place by rachel platten and jay/dick or maybe just some jay-centric bat fam. hope this prompt works for you. love your fics <3

Thank you <3 That’s a very JayDick song, but I love writing batfam, too, so... have both. 

Steph took one look at Jason’s old-new room and pronounced: “You need to redecorate.”

“No shit.”

“Let’s go.”

Which was how Jason found himself in Ikea of all places. She even dragged a flustered-looking Tim with her, who proved to be supremely unhelpful when it came to curtain color (“I don’t think either red or purple will look good with those walls,” bullshit) but very willing to hand over his credit card. It was… fun. The room felt less like a tomb when Steph was done with it, which was great.

He told her that.

“Well, duh.” She grinned. “No one in this house knows how to decorate for shit. You should see what Tim did with his bedroom…”

Jason spent a minute considering his options. “Anime girls?”

“Nope.”

“Superman posters.”

“Nope, but I like the way you’re thinking.”

“Bad Picasso replicas.”

“Nooo,”

“I give up.”

“He did…” Steph paused dramatically. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. It still looks like it did in the eighties.”

Jason laughed, and she looked gratified. “Sounds terrible.”

They kept working on the bookshelf. Ikea was great for those; that’s why they went there in the first place. Well, that and the look on Bruce’s face when he saw the boxes.  

After a minute, Jason asked: “So… are you seeing a lot of Tim’s bedroom, then?”

“Yeah. So what?” She glared at him, which he was starting to realize was a sure sign that she was embarrassed.

“So nothing. Didn’t know that was happening again, that’s all.”

It took her a minute, but she softened. “Yeah. I… guess we’re giving it a second chance.”

“That’s cool,” he told her sincerely. “I mean, you could clearly do better, but he damn well knows what he’s got now.”

“Hmm.” Steph was hiding behind the shelf she was holding up, but he could still tell she was pleased. “So how about your own second chance, huh?”

…damn, he’d walked right into that one. “Shut up.”

—

“Home invasion in sector 6R. Three 1Cs, suspected armed. Neighbors reporting shots, five people in the house. Hood, you’re closest.”

Jason had already changed course. “I’m on it.”

He waited—this was the point where Batman would send a Robin or two after him, maybe even Nightwing or himself, “just as back-up.” There was no way they would let him operate as part of the team without close supervision for at least a year. Jason was determined to grit his teeth and bear it, even if he wasn’t sure for how long he could. He was chafing already, running like this with the others when he’d been on his own for so long.  

However, Bruce only confirmed that he’d heard him, and then the line went silent.

Huh.

—

There was no better time to be awake in the manor than the early morning in Jason’s opinion. The light fell softly into the kitchen as he entered, barefoot and in his pajamas.

Alfred was there, of course. “Good morning, Jason.”

It was their private ritual; had been even before Jason had moved back into the fold. Six a.m., tea and sandwiches. The only difference was that now, Jason hadn’t vanished by the time Damian stomped into the kitchen, glowering at them for being awake and having the audacity to send him to school.

It was kinda adorable, not that Jason would ever tell him that. Instead, he watched Damian make his way through his own breakfast and nodded toward the packed lunch waiting for him. “I see you’re not taking advantage of the school cafeteria, then?”

“Them?” The amount of scorn Damian managed to pack into a single word would have weighed down a ship or two. “They would not know good food if it chased after them with a sword.”

“Let me guess—still only three spices, and these are salt, pepper, and ketchup?” Jason asked.

“I believe there is a fourth one now—they have a particularly intolerable mixture that they like to label ‘Chinese.’” Damian’s whole face scrunched up with distaste. “It tastes nothing like what Mother used to cook.”

“While I am sorry to hear that,” Alfred inserted, “we will be late if we don’t leave soon.”

Damian grumbled but hopped off his chair. Jason glanced at the clock — seven a.m. Dick would get up soon. Might as well make him a sandwich, too.

He pulled the ingredients closer, already compiling a list of recipes in his head. Talia had shown him how to make most of Damian’s favorites. He could teach those to Alfred, no problem.

—

“Hood. Stop it right now.” Dick looked at him with big eyes, or so Jason assumed, considering they were both wearing their masks.

“No, continue.” Barbara sounded choked, audibly forcing down laugher.

And, hey. Love was one thing, but Jason knew who gave him the best intel night after night. “So big bird and B decide that they have to infiltrate this organization, right? Only… they’re all swingers…”

Her laughter was brighter than the streetlights.

—

Jason stepped into the corridor and silently closed the door behind him.

God, but it had taken a long time to get Dick tired and ready to sleep. Jason himself was still feeling too wired to pass out, but then he wasn’t operating on a 40-hour sleep deficit, so it was totally not the same thing.

He decided to wander down to the cave. Bruce was still up, of course, acknowledging Jason’s presence with a grunt. The only other person present was Tim, who was bent over some files.

…like, really bent over them. One could almost think…yup, he’d fallen asleep at the table.

Jason gently poked him. Then he harshly poked him. When nothing happened, he sighed and moved one arm under Tim’s legs, the other gripping his shoulders. The kid would fuck up his back if he stayed like that. It took a bit of effort, but they were soon making their way up the stairs, Tim cradled securely in Jason’s arms.

They’d almost made it upstairs when Tim stirred, blue eyes opening halfway and looking at him.

Heart in his throat, Jason waited. This family had a bad habit of coming awake swinging, and with Jason hovering over them… well, it wouldn’t be entirely unjustified, wouldn’t it? Especially in Tim’s case.

Tim grumbled and went right back to sleep.

—

Jason pinched his nose. Or tried to, but he was wearing his helmet, so he basically poked himself in the face. Judging from Duke’s expression, that wasn’t helping his point.

“So you decided to buy us time by…”

“Ninja traps,” Cassie finished for him. Looking as if that made total sense.

“Ninja traps.”

“Well, it was more of an obstacle course, really,” Duke added helpfully.

“Okay, that’s a weird-ass move, but I can respect that. Then why did that warehouse explode?”

“Fire.” Cassie’s expression gave nothing away.

Jason looked to Duke. “What she said.”

“And the fire was there because…?”

“Fire is an obstacle.”

Jason groaned. “I cannot believe I’m the responsible person here,” he lamented. “Is this how you feel most of the time, D?”

There was laughter over the com. “Oh, Nightwing has finally acquired a co-parent,” Steph commented, followed by Tim’s: “About time.”

(Everyone ignored Bruce’s “Hey!”.)  

—

“Jason.”

Bruce was hovering. He probably didn’t intend to it; it just came naturally. Jason still felt that nervous lurch in his stomach whenever Bruce did that, but he was trying to get over it, so he just asked: “Yeah?”

“Let me show you something.”

They went into one of the rooms behind Bruce’s office that Jason had always assumed held nothing but files. He was very wrong.

“After you… left, I found myself reading books and thinking—he would’ve loved that.”

The walls were lined with bookcases. There were special editions of Jane Austen reprints, thick sci-fi novels, and nineteenth-century murder mysteries. It was eclectic and weird and precisely what Jason liked. What they both liked.

“I kept collecting them,” Bruce told him, voice too even. “Just… in case, I suppose.”

Jason stared at the shelves and shelves full of books, all read exactly once. His eyes were stinging because the glass display downstairs—that was bullshit. That uniform was about and for Bruce, and the new Robins, not Jason.

But this?

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Bruce almost-smiled, relief written across his face. “You’re welcome. Uh. I’ll leave you to it.”

Jason let him take two steps, then he said: “Bruce. If there was ever a time for a hug, this is it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Jason let Bruce pull him into an embrace—hugged back just as fiercely and told him: “It’s okay. You can stop grieving now. I’m here.”

If Bruce’s shoulders were shaking, neither of them mentioned it.

—

It was a total accident. Jason had felt like holding Dick’s hand, so he did. It was only when he looked up and caught Tim’s eye that he remembered—right. They were surrounded by Dick’s family. Their family.

Tim winked. The conversation didn’t stop. No one else commented or even gave them a second glance.

Something in Jason exhaled.

Dick squeezed his hand, smiling at something Damian was saying, and ugh, sometimes Jason was so full of feelings, he didn’t know what to do with it. Dick was just so—so—

Yeah. Jason was so fucking gone for him. All he could think about was how it would feel if there was a ring, there, pressing against his own.

He leaned back, adding a sarcastic comment or two to the conversation just to bask in the sunshine of Dick’s laughter. That thought warranted some serious consideration, not to mention talking to Dick, but—just the idea that he could have that? That he trusted himself, and Dick, and their family, enough to have that?

It was more than enough.

—

(Three days before Jason moved into the manor, Dick called a family gathering.

“Why is Jason not here, then?” Tim asked, frowning. “If it’s a family matter, it concerns him, too.”

Dick could kiss him for that. Instead he said: “Because it’s about him. I’m gonna lay down some ground rules, okay?”

Jason letting Dick convince him to move back in with them… that was huge. And dangerous. Dick had figured out long ago that Jay and Bruce had no idea how to handle each other anymore. Neither did the rest. That didn’t mean they didn’t want to. Dick was hopeful.

It was just… Jay was the best thing in Dick’s world; his support, his light, his conscience. He just made everything better. And Dick had no intentions of letting their family or anyone else fuck that up.)

(I’m taking prompts.)

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, light smut w/ more to come - college!au

wordcount ~ 1.7k

warnings ~ light smut, drinking/partying, mentions of dick?, basically just making out, feat. long hair jk :)))))

a/n ~ this is my first time posting a fic!!! costume idea inspired by @ddaenggtan‘s iconic weeb-ass jk in chasing butterflies lol, and I got the idea to write this in general from wondering what a scenario like @joonbird​‘s literally flawless fic passionfruit would be like from the opposite perspective bc I kept reading it (and rereading it...and rereading it...) and loving the connection but I’m much more like joon in that au than the reader oooop. anyway thank you to all the writers on here whose work i have loved and my friends who have encouraged me and made me bold enough to embrace such a fun new creative outlet xxx u know who u are :’)

next: chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!) 

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 1 ~ dress up

You never intended to end up at this Halloween party. You didn't even know who to expect to see here, other than your roommate's friend from high school, the host, who had invited y'all as a package deal even though she knew you didn't really do parties. At least not ones like hers, where every bedroom ended up occupied by the end of the night and nearly no one went home alone. Thrilled to break out of your lame group of friends for a taste of flirtation and fun, you tried to relax into the scene but the unspoken expectation of casual sex intimidated you the tiniest bit.

Speaking of casual sex, there was Jungkook.

Used to admiring him from afar in your "14 Films To See Before You Graduate" class, you paused to take in the sight of him in what you supposed was a more natural habitat. Everyone knew Jungkook got girls, thanks to the rumor his first freshman-year hookup had started about his seriously impressive dick. He had a beautiful body too, carefully crafted muscles obvious even beneath his usual baggy black clothes, so as the more intimate rumors spread and various co-signers confirmed every detail from length to curve to (you had always hated this word, but...) girth, getting a piece of all that became a badge of honor among the girls in your grade. You had never really understood how the awkward boy who hid manga under his desk in class could supposedly be such a sex symbol, but you almost felt bad for him. That kind of reputation following you around everywhere couldn't be all fun and games. If anything, though, it had intrigued you even more about the rest of him, all his little weeb quirks and the way he debated your points in the discussion boards like he actually cared. He wasn't exactly studious in general, but he clearly loved film and you enjoyed speaking up in class just to see how he would jump off of your observations. You hadn't really talked to him other than that, but he didn't seem to be talking to anyone else tonight either. From the corner, you let yourself appreciate the way his nervous hands tugged at the skinny black tie of his costume, freeing more of his throat from a thin yellow button-down shirt.

At least you no longer felt overdressed in your Nancy Drew outfit. The retro headband, brown loafers, and bookish plaid knee-length skirt set a much more sophisticated tone than most other ensembles you'd seen, but Jungkook's weeb ass had basically worn a full suit to channel Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop. With his grown-out hair tousled and a navy pinstripe jacket cinched tight with two strips of electrical tape over his tiny waist, you couldn't deny that he rocked it. He leaned against a long plastic table left in the hallway, bobbing his head to the music in the next room and adjusting the too-slim suit pants around his thick thighs. His translucent cup stayed hidden behind a hip until he raised it quickly to his face for another sip of...red wine? Probably Franzia, knowing tonight's crowd, but anything was better than beer. You made a beeline for the one boy with taste at this party, your sole mission now to get wine drunk, sneak some Usher throwbacks on this playlist, and drop it low enough to leave some dude hard on the dance floor. #wastehistime2019, yknow.

"Hey!" You got his attention, grabbing the hand with the cup before he could lower it out of view again. His eyes grew comically wide and his mouth formed an "o" in shock before you demanded "Where is the wine?" and he pressed his lips back into a line, stuttering.

"I-I-I'm sorry, I just brought a bottle because the beer here sucks but I think it's all gone by now, I tried to hide it but yeah anyway you can have the rest of this one if you want though." Wincing at his own ramble, he ruffled the retro pouf of his hair with one hand and proffered the plastic cup in another. Both actions highlighted how pretty his hands were and you were just slightly tipsy enough to thread your fingers over his in the also-pretty black waves falling over his yep-still-just-as-pretty cheekbones.

"Aw, it's okay, I don't want to take your wine. No more liquid courage for me," you grinned, dotting the lightest kiss on his nose. It was an innocent gesture, but as your face naturally lowered so your noses touched, leaving your lips centimeters away from each other, something snapped—in him.

His wine discarded on the table, a hand curled around to clutch your ass and you practically felt his tongue before you felt his lips. Slamming your body abruptly into his, he nudged a thigh between your legs to grind it up on your center and as your arm got caught between your bodies, the tension you sensed filling his frame gave you pause. You pushed him away gently but firmly with the hand already flattened against his rock-solid abs. Looking down at the slight space restored between y'all, you removed his hands from his hair and your ass and laced them in yours to guide him back against the wall.

"I...what was that?" you almost giggled. You definitely weren't trying to laugh at him, but you couldn't hide your surprise at this first potential proof of his fuckboy reputation.

"I'm—" his whole face crumpled, both from the simple sting of your seeming rejection and the possibility that he had broken a boundary or forced himself on you against your wishes, which made him so sick he could barely face you. Squirming under your light hold but not quite resisting, he rambled again: "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to force myself on you or anything, don't worry I would never try anything if you didn't want to, I just figured we might as well get to the point if you did because, uh...when girls touch me like that or even talk to me at these things it's pretty much always just because they...want to."

"Jungkook," you breathed, pulsing your hands over his in reassurance. He squeezed his eyes shut, still distraught, and when they opened, you had craned your neck to meet his averted gaze.

"I never said I didn't want to."

His eyes widened again. "Uh...uh...then..." he trailed off, never having needed to directly proposition a girl like this before. He really had been inexperienced before the rapid escalation of college, and was at a loss for how to get to the good stuff from here via anything more eloquent than a rushed "Wanna fuck?" You shook your head silently, nose grazing his again, and let go of one hand to cup his face with care, like he was something precious you were scared of breaking.

"What? You want to get right to fucking me?" you murmured into his ear. He shivered at hearing you curse for the first time, freed from the constraints of class discussions and closer than he ever guessed you'd get to him. "Is that really what you want? Or is it what you think I do? Because if it's alright, I think I want something better. For you."

You pressed a new kiss to his nose, only slightly stronger than the one that had started all this. He held his breath and his untouched, open mouth trembled as you scattered soft introductions of your lips across his forehead, to his temples, over the scar that sliced his cheekbone. Finally inhaling a skittery heave of your shared air as you passed closer to his lips, he forced it back out in frustration when you ducked away to nudge under his jaw instead. Returning your hand to his hair, you grinned, enjoying the spike in his pulse under your thumb and skipping the tip of your tongue lightly over his neck right up to the earlobe. You lifted the choppy ends of his waves away from the dangly silver hoop they hid, tensing the strands just slightly between your fingers in an inability to hide your glee. Something told you this was going to drive him crazy.

Taking a slight detour to suck his pierced lobe between your lips, you responded to Jungkook’s low moan of surprise by wedging your tongue through the first oversized hole and letting your teeth clatter over multiple rings of metal. He was trying so hard to stay pliant under you, but the tease of slight pain in a new and unusual spot made him want your mouth more, anywhere he could get it. No one had ever spent this much time tracing so few inches of skin.

And so many girls had buried his face in their necks, craving evidence of an encounter with the Jeon Jungkook, that a strange kind of empathy caught him off guard when you showed him how good it could feel to receive. You connected your lips to the hollow right under his ear, feeling the tendons stretch as his head lolled away from you. Working him through a cascade of light gasps, you stepped away satisfied once you had sucked a dark bloom to the surface. He watched you leave with his mouth agape and chest heaving, unable to believe you could just walk away with a wave and a "See you in class!"

But you did, and he would.

"Shit!" he swore, a shaky hand darting straight to the spot. Now he had to keep his hair long for at least another two or three days. If he showed up to discussion on Monday and had to watch you admiring your work on his skin, he would probably just die on the spot. And that would not be very Spike Spiegel of him.

next chapter

[peakatseven]

MICHAAAA CONGRATULATIONS

🌕 broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor

andddd

🎸 haunted

this bitch really came for me asking for a story AND a cover of such a hard song to sing. okay thanks i guess.

nah im just kidding babe i had so much fun writing this! i feel like it’s the first time in years that i’m posting proper fanfiction? kind of? idk i was trying to find another name for the mc but i kept picturing frat boy harry so here we go:

Concentration is impossible when the silence is loud and the work is important. The worst part is when one starts thinking about the need of being concentrated, rather than the actual work that needs to be done. As a university student, Harry was no different than most: his anxiety about school and his future co-existed with the emotional backlash of relationships and the need to "experience the best years of your life". There were few people with whom he wouldn't worry about meeting some kind of expectation. But she had been silent with him for the better part of a year. Images of Caro kept coming back to him, a trauma he couldn't let go off. Granted, it was the one painful brake up he'd experienced, one that was never truly over. Even now, uncountable names in between him and her, he still couldn't get her blue eyes off of his mind. The thought of her porcelain skin over his sun-kissed body came to him every single one of his one-night-stands. And at that moment, sitting on his desk, trying to get his homework done, the memory of her laughter drowned every sentence he tried to compose. He forced everything out with a loud grunt, grabbing his head with both hands and pulling on his hair. "The results show that 73.3% of patients responded positively to the treatment." He voiced out loud, trying to silence Caro's laughter in his mind. "No, that's bullshit." After a few moments staring at the cursor beeping at the end of his last sentence, he finally shut the laptop down. On an impulse, he unlocked his phone and opened a conversation from three days prior. He should've answered it when he got the text, but he wasn't in the mood at the time. "Hey, babe, wanna go for a beer rn?" He wasn't even done changing when the phone buzzed on the table. Two happy emojis popped up, and then a "Meet you there in 10". He kept the speed up as he rode off campus, through a park and then into the city. He was glad for the chill air against his face, numbing it to the point where it was the only thing he was able to think about. Finally some peace of mind. It wasn't dark yet when he got to the bar, but the sun had already set behind the buildings. There was one single tree, barely taller than him but strong enough to hold his bike. As he secured it, a red leaf fell to his knee. It was autumn when he got to kiss Caro for the first time, and it was also autumn when he kissed her last. "Nope. Something else, think of something else." he thought to himself. Incapable of coming up with anything, he brought out a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Somewhere inside him, there was a bit of guilt about what he was trying to do. But it'd been so long since he started that it no longer bothered him. His new game was called Darren. The younger guy looked like a model, straight silver hair and pale skin that Harry couldn't wait to leave marks on. All he could think about when Darren was around was the things he wanted to do to him. It was purely sensual, and that was pretty clear from the start. Or at least that's what he told himself. That Darren was on the same page as him- no strings attached, just fun and games. But the way his phone had been buzzing ever since he got on the bike, there was clearly more interest from one side. But instead of doing the right thing, and not stringing him along, Harry was about to sleep with him again and leave with a lame excuse to not spend the night. And then it was back to emotionless texts, conversations on the verge of ghosting him just in case he'd be in the mood again. But it was okay, Darren was playing the same game. He had the same dynamic with a lot of people lately. None knew of each other. They didn't have to, and they didn't ask either. He was no monster, though. Harry would tell that to himself constantly. That because no one had explicitly asked for exclusivity, it was implied they weren't obliged to it. The only one who did, what was her name again? Odella... no, that's not right... Ornella, maybe? He laughed dryly at himself. He'd become one of those guys that didn't even remember the names of all of his

partners. But he was no dougebag, when Ornella asked to be exclusive, he straight up told her no and then never bothered her again. They weren't on the same page anymore, so no more games. He wondered if that would ever happen with Darren too. There was not much time to think about this, because he was soon greeting the guy with a half hug and a gentle kiss just beside his lips. "You smell nice." Darren said, hands in his pockets and scarf almost over his mouth. "You just like the smell of tabacco." Harry smirked and put the unfinished cigarette down. "Let's get in, you're freezing." The night went exactly how Harry planned it. All his jokes were welcomed by Darren, and he let the young boy win at pull- he was cute when he bragged about his skills. But the best feeling was whenever Harry would approach Darren. A stroke of the lower back, a smirk from the other side of the table, a kiss when no one was near... Darren accepted any and everything Harry was willing to give him. The power high that it gave him to have someone be so devoted to him was indescribable. But the night was fully set and he was growing impatient. "Let's get out of here." He whispered to Darren's ear right before his turn. Darren had already started pulling Harry's bike for him when the phone on his pocket buzzed again. Harry walked alongside his date, though his eyes were on his phone. He had a lost call that he hadn't noticed while inside. The number wasn't saved to his phone anymore, but he hadn't managed to erase it from his own memory yet. "Oh, shit." He whispered. "I... Sorry, man, I have to go. There's a- um, it's a family thing." Harry was on his bike before his date could answer. He didn't even look at Darren's eyes before leaving. There was a sting of guilt building up, and maybe he'd feel disgusted by himself if it wasn't for the sheer adrenaline running through his veins. Maybe the alcohol had a bit to do with it too. This had only happened a few times before, and the outcome was always the same. Still, Harry couldn't keep himself from falling to his knees when it came to her. As he rode his bike as fast as he could go, a cynical smile crept on his lips. How ironic. Darren was probably feeling the same way about Harry just a few hours prior. Whenever Caro was in town, she stayed at her best friend's apartment- all the way on the other side of the city. So it was past midnight already when he got to the building. There was a party on the roof, maybe they could sneak in for more drinks. She had some catching up to do, as Harry was already tipsy. Still, he didn't have to check the phone to know which floor to go to and which door to knock. Just like everything else about Caro, he had it indefinitely memorized. 409, the doorknocker was a silver seagull. A very heavy, silver seagull. At first, Harry didn't feel it when his finger got caught in between the door and the seagull, but by the third time he knocked, it started changing colour. "Hm." He said to himself as he examined the swollen-red finger. He put it in his mouth and kept on knocking to the beat of the music coming from above. Why did they have the music so loud? Harry could barely hear his own thoughts, so the neighbours had to be furious about this noise. Carolina was probably waiting for Harry, who was already late due to how far he was when she texted him. "Fuck!" He said, taking his phone out of his pocket again. He hadn't answered. Dumb ass. "im herre" He sent the text before reading the ones Caro had sent before. One was a laughing emoji and the other was a voice note. There were people laughing on the background, and someone turned the music down a bit for Caro to speak into her phone. "I'm so sorry, ignore that, it was a dare." She half said, half laughed. Harry didn't understand, so he played it again. Again. Again. And again one more time. Was she talking about the lost call? or was it about her being in town? Had he really fallen for such a stupid trap? Harry fell to the floor, phone glued to his ear as the voice note played over and over again. His chest was about to

explode, face red and throat dry. He knocked on the door again, now with his fist. The inevitable tear fell down his cheek, though it was impossible to know if it was sadness or anger that caused it. "Oh, god." Someone said behind him. But when he turned around, the stairs were empty and someone on hills was running up the stairs. He got up and ran after them, but he was too intoxicated to keep up. He fell halfway up the stairs, having to crawl for a few steps before getting up. On the rooftop, there were too many people in heels to know which one had seen him. "Great." He sight. Might as well look around. He walked around the place, inhaling the cold air of the night and trying to calm down, make sense of what had just happened. He was about to light up his last cigarette when someone took it from him. She had long purple nails and her skin glowed under the moonlight. She smirked as the cigarette reached her mouth. He lit it up for her. "I didn't think you'd actually come." She said. Her smirk turned into a sincere smile. "You told me to." "Yes, but I also said you should ignore that." "Well I didn't." He took the cigarette from her fingers and smoked himself before speaking again. "Should I go?" He wanted to seem as cool with the situation as she appeared to be, hide the fact that he had just been played like a puppet for a fucking drinking game dare. "What happened to you finger?" She shouted, stepping closer to him. "I- I don't remember." Harry lied. There was still a bit of dignity to be salvaged. And there it was, but this time it was real. Her laugh, once again, drowned every thought on his mind. There was no music and no people around them anymore, it was just him and her, together again, laughing in the middle of the night. "You know I meant to call you, right?" Caro said, a hand tenderly rubbing his arm. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he knew it too. "I'm sure you did." He said. "I did!" She pushed him a little, both cracking a knowing smile. "I promise I did, it's just that-" "Shut the fuck up." He felt more stable now that he'd taken some air and the alcohol effect had cooled down. "It's okay, Caro. Let's just have fun tonight and see what happens." "Sounds fun." She leaned in and kissed him on his cheek, the kiss lingering just a second too long. He instinctively put a hand on her hip, but she walked away swiftly after the kiss. The pain on his chest came back, and the little composure he had gained crumbled. She wasn't coming back to him. This time it was definitive, and it had been for a while now. But the worst realization that came to him that night, was how much power she had over him. How much hope, urge, love, anger and pain she could cause in just a matter of hours. She had him at her mercy, like a puppet she could toy with however she wanted. They were both the same kind of wicked, using others for validation, feasting on their adoration. But as much pain as it caused him to know he was at the other end of his own game, it also sparked joy to know he could provide that for her.

[lynnkn]

Get It In Writing

Here’s my Pynch Secret Santa for @betterwithoutsense. One of the prompts was non-magic au. Hope you enjoy!

@pynchpromptweek

Read it on ao3!

Ronan was always an outdoorsy type. His mind moved faster when the world around him moved slower. He liked New York, but it was never meant to be his home.

He had come up with the idea to move back home, drunk out of his mind on a Tuesday, after weeks of trying and failing to churn out so much as a short story, let alone a novel. He hadn’t had an original idea since he was fifteen. It made perfect sense if he didn’t think about it too much. At fifteen, he’d created some of his most original ideas, he crafted plots so intricate they made his adult self weep with jealousy. Characters had come to him like dreams. Nothing he’d written since Declan swept him and Matthew off to Alexandria had come close to the stuff he’d scribbled in frayed notebooks between lessons.

If he did let himself think about it, he’d wonder if it had less to do with the change in locale and more to do with his parents’ deaths.

He’d called Blue the next morning. She offered him the couch at her mother’s house while he looked for a place. He calls her again just as the plane lands.

“Don’t hate me,” are the first words out of her mouth.

“Oh, I love when you start conversations like that.”

“I’m stuck at work.” There’s a shuffling and a crash from the other end of the line, followed by voices. At least three of them are yelling out for Blue. “We’re understaffed. Three people quit last week and I’m the only manager left.”

He makes plans to call an Uber as soon as they land. He hates to do it, but he’s left without much of a choice. He’d avoided taxis and the like for most of his time in the city, but every time he did it, it felt wrong. His skin prickled and pulled like even it knew he did not belong in the backseat of someone else’s car.

“But I sent my cousin to pick you up at baggage claim,” Blue says.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll see you at the house?”

“Yes, definitely! I’ll see you tonight.”

“And thanks for all this.”

“No problem, Ronan.” She huffs a breathy sigh and the phone crackles as she leans in closer to whisper. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too shithead.”

Ronan had met plenty of Blue’s cousins. While the girls come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, they have names like Orla or Chrysanthemum. They wear mismatched clothing and make art out of recycled materials. They’re all indiscriminately weird. He feels confident in his ability to pick a Sargent out of a line-up.

The baggage claim is a confusing swirl of business suits and combat uniforms. He walks past a family carrying a giant banner. But he recognizes none of them. There are no floor-length skirts, no dyed hair. He pulls out his phone to call Blue back when a voice calls out his name. He turns, but he can’t make out who it is. Then he sees him.

He’s leaning against a half-wall, hands tucked into his pockets and a denim jacket tossed over his shoulder. He pushes off with his foot and approaches cautiously. He’s waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” Ronan coughs out. He’s proud of his own tact and grace for the briefest flash before he opens his mouth again. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Blue said she’d call you.” He shuffles for a moment, grabbing desperately at his phone. “I’m Adam. I’m gonna take you back to the house if that’s cool.”

“It’s fine, man. You’re just not who I expected.”

“Well,” he says, starting a sentence he clearly never plans to finish. “You got bags?”

“Yeah. Wait here. I’ll get them.”

Adam takes the large suitcase and reaches for the duffel, but Ronan shakes his head. Adam shrugs and leads the way to the car. Ronan pulls the bag onto his shoulder and flinches as the bag bangs angrily against his stiff muscles. He moves through the pain, desperately hoping Adam can’t tell he’s struggling.

“So how are you related to Blue again?” he asks, desperate for a distraction.

“Uh, I’m Persephone’s kid.”

He remembers Persephone, long white hair, and a soft-spoken voice. She baked pies and could speak with some level of authority on any topic a person brought up. But she hadn’t had any children that he knew of. And he’s sure he’d remember Adam.

“Oh. Sure.”

“It’s an adoption thing,” he says like he’s not outrageously uncomfortable.

“That’s cool,” Ronan says like he wasn’t wondering. He doesn’t want to push so he lets the conversation float away. He’s a big fan of comfortable silence. The issue is that nothing about this situation is comfortable and he’s drowning in his own goddamn bullshit. He follows Adam to a monstrosity of parts but resists the urge to comment. This clearly isn’t the kind of car a person chooses for themselves. They exchange nervous smiles over the trunk and settle into their seats.

Adam clearly knows where he’s going so Ronan settles back in his seat, watching D.C.fade away. When the world turns green, he lets himself feel at home.

“Blue talks about you a lot,” Adam says.

And that’s the funny thing because he’s talked to Blue a lot in the years since he left, but she’s never mentioned Adam. He searches his memory for any mention or comment on the addition of a new cousin, but there’s nothing. He’d told her about every gruesome, gory detail of his move to Alexandria, of school, and Declan, and Matthew. And then when he’d moved to New York, he’d told her about his building and the shitty people he talked to and he’d laid all this on the line without considering that she was still in Henrietta and her family was changing and he didn’t even know. Why hadn’t she told him? He only lets it sting for a moment. Then he numbs it with a promise to talk to her later.

“Yeah,” he says. “She’s my best friend.”

They don’t talk much more on the drive, but Ronan watches Adam out of the corner of his eye. He’s the kind of guy a teenaged version of himself would’ve fantasized over. His hands grip the wheel and his tongue sticks out the side of his mouth as he focuses on the road. His eyebrows hang heavily over weary eyes. He’s a strange guy, a unique blend of old and young, of new and refurbished. He’s a lot like the car he drives and Ronan wonders if this body is also the kind no one chooses for themselves. But he can't stop staring nonetheless.

The house looks like itself when they pull up and a strange warmth pools through his gut. He breaths in the air as he steps out of the car. It’s lighter here. The air hits the bottom of his lungs and he pulls another breath in just to hold it there. To breathe. If he forgets, he can pretend he’s fourteen and coming over to borrow a cd. Or that he’s ten and coming to watch a movie his parents wouldn’t let him watch. Or that he’s seven and going over to play at a friend’s house for the first time in his life. He could stand out there all day, but he wants to see Maura so he hauls the stupidly heavy duffel over his shoulder and goes inside.

“Ronan? Is that you? Get your ass in here.” Maura’s voice blends with the hum of the laundry machine and children screaming somewhere down the hall and it’s a sound so wrapped in nostalgia, Ronan can’t remember what year it is. He follows the sound to the kitchen where she waits with open arms. He leans down to let her pull him into a hug. Behind him, the screen door slams as Adam comes in behind him, but he doesn’t pull away. “How’ve you been?” she asks, finally pushing him back to take in the sight of him.

“I’m alright.”

“You’re staying with us for a while?”

“Is that a problem?”

“You know it’s not.” She turns back to the counter in front of her. She has a sheet of pepperoni rolls half wrapped and lined up on a strip of parchment paper. She grabs the dough and goes back to work as Ronan leans against the counter, watching her fingers delicately shaping the rolls. “We’re a lot nicer to the boys than we used to be, right Adam?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says brushing past both of them on his way out the back.

“Oh I’m convinced,” Ronan says.

Adam stops and quirks a quiet smile, the kind Ronan wasn’t supposed to see. He turns back to them. “I promised Calla I’d fix the porch rail.”

“It can wait if you want some lunch," Maura says.

“I’d rather finish it up before class.” He looks like an animal caught in a trap, leaning towards the back door and letting his eyes wander out the window. “But I’ll take a pepperoni roll when I’m finished if you’re offering.”

She nods at him and this seems to be a dismissal because he’s out the door before Ronan can blink. As soon as he’s gone, though, Ronan is thinking about him again. About how strange he is and how much stranger he seems in a house like this. He shouldn’t fit in and yet, everything about him makes sense.

Ronan washes his hands and picks up a strip of dough, following Maura’s gentle instructions. She reaches over and fixes each roll he makes, but he doesn’t mind. He lets her fix his mistakes with no more than an overdramatic eye roll. And she doesn’t comment on his lack of manners. Maura never expected him to be polite, so long as he was kind.

Blue doesn’t make it home for another two hours. By that time, Ronan is full of pepperoni rolls and Adam has gone to class. He waits for her on the porch and she runs and jumps into his arms the moment she sees him. He picks her up, sweeping her feet out from under her. He’d hit a growth spurt a month after leaving town and hadn’t stopped until he was ducking in doorways.

She startles, but he’s strong and he’d chop his own arms off before he hurt her.

Blue and Ronan had been the weird kids of their homeschool co-op. She yelled about the patriarchy during history and he knew more about Irish folklore than algebra. She hissed at the other kids and he hit anyone who made fun of her.

“I knew you’d come home eventually,” she says.

“Then you must be psychic cause I didn’t know until last month.” He hugs her and she still smells like the tree in the backyard and pixie sticks. All is right with the world. She doesn’t look all that different either. She grew maybe another inch or two, but all-in-all, she’s still what he remembers. He wonders if she’s disappointed cause he sure as hell isn’t the Ronan she knew.

The passenger side door shuts and a man climbs out. His hair is neatly combed and his shirt is ironed. He sweeps a hand over his tie and waves at the two of them.

Blue waves back. She glances over her shoulder at Ronan, hesitant and curious. She waits for a reaction, but Ronan has nothing to say. He watches, slack-jawed and stupid as the man approaches. He kisses Blue on the cheek and offers Ronan his hand.

“You must be Ronan,” he says. They shake hands, a sweaty affair that Ronan pulls away from as soon as he gets the chance. “I’m Gansey.”

“Can you give us a minute?” Blue says. He grins back at her and then at Ronan, slipping into the house, leaving silence in his wake.

“Anything else you wanna tell me?”

“Well John Boy, things have changed here on Walton’s mountain.” She laughs at her own joke, watching for Ronan to join her. When he doesn’t she sighs. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were miserable, Ronan,” she says. “And don’t say you weren’t I could tell. I just didn’t want to rub it in your face.”

“You still should’ve told me.” It burns, like every other little hurt. These days, Ronan can’t seem to feel anything a normal amount. Every prick is a white-hot scorch. Every ache is a broken bone. One day the floor fell beneath him and the pain gets worse every time he hits another level of concrete and earth.

Blue nods and she turns, just enough to the side so Ronan can’t parse out her face. He can’t read her anymore. And so he falls again.

“And what about Adam?” he asks.

“What about him?”

Ronan’s not even sure himself. But he shows up in the same shitty town he’s always lived in and he comes back to a place that had once been his second home and this guy is here, just waiting and he’s everything Ronan thought he’d wanted back then. His perspective is tilting. He thinks about the guys back in New York: Proko, Skov, Swan, and Jiang. He thinks of Kavinsky and how much sense they made. He thinks Adam seems like the kind of guy who’s going to get him hurt. He thinks of how much he’d love to let someone like Adam hurt him.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“I didn’t know how to,” she says. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“Then why send him to pick me up?” Ronan leans into her, watching for a flicker of something recognizable. The Blue he’d known never lied to him. She was honest, sometimes brutally so and she never hid anything from him. They’d talked constantly over the years. And while he’d unloaded all of his bullshit on her, she’s remained mysterious in regards to her own life.

“I think you’ll like him,” she says. “He needs someone like you.”

“I’m not trying to fuck your cousin, Blue.”

“I’m not suggesting you fuck him. I just thought you could be friends.” She rubs her hand over her eyes, pulling her features in a sharp downturn. “I was gonna say the same about Gansey.”

He lets the breath out of his cheeks and watches the wind blow through the grass. It's grown long, just the way Blue likes it. He lets the wind move him like the grass, swaying gently until he feels grounded. He’s not mad at Blue. Not really. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“I just want to make sure you have a support system here.”

“I do,” he says.

“Besides me and my mom.” She wipes at her eye again and Ronan graciously ignores the single tear.

He gestures to the door and the family waiting inside. “Well then let’s go.”

Blue smiles and Ronan remembers why he’s here in the first place. Blue is something stronger, more prominent than anything in New York. She makes him stronger, louder. It’s not just about Henrietta or the mountains. It’s in Blue’s smiles and Maura’s eyes and the strangeness of them all. This is where his story is waiting for him. It’s always been here. Ronan is the one who left.

Soon they’re all sat around the table for dinner. The conversation is light and easy. No one pushes Ronan to talk about what he’s been doing in New York and he’s eternally grateful for that. They talk about Blue’s job at Nino’s and Gansey’s parents’ real estate business. He promises to help Ronan check out some of the properties in the area. Adam excuses himself early, claiming he has to get up early for work in the morning.

“What do you do?” Ronan asks, helping Maura clear the table.

“I work at the Greenmantles’ farm up in Singer Falls,” he says. And Ronan feels his heart drop all the way to his ass. “It’s this really old shitty family farm that this guy bought a few years ago. And he has no idea how to run a farm so it’s a disaster.”

“Oh,’ Ronan says. “That’s my house.”

Adam’s eyes widen to twice their regular size. “I…”

“It was always kind of shitty,” he says.

“Yeah.” Adam stands awkwardly behind his chair, perhaps waiting for an appropriate time to bolt. Ronan breaks eye contact, hoping to put him at ease.

But the idea of his home, fallen into disrepair bothers him more than he expected. He remembers the Greenmantles. He doesn’t remember them fondly. He turns to go outside for another breath of fresh air. As he heads for the door, Ronan hears the exchange between Adam and his mother.

“You couldn’t have told me he lived there before I opened my mouth?”

“I could’ve,” she says, placing a palm on the top of his head. She plants a kiss on it and walks to the sink to wash out her mug. Adam, for what it’s worth, smacks his head against the doorframe.

He spends the next night, sitting on the blanket with Blue and Adam and their friends. Gansey’s there, as is his friend Henry. Noah, one of Blue’s coworkers turns up with beer. And they sit in the grass watching the stars. It’s not until they’ve been laying there for a couple of hours, laughing and teasing like they’ve always been this way, that Ronan realizes how much he needs this.

As the others trickle inside for air conditioning or food or sleep, Ronan and Adam are left alone for the first time since the car ride.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me very much,” Adam says.

“It’s not that,” Ronan says, hands folded behind his head. The stars are duller here in Henrietta proper, but it’s the closest to home he’s gotten in years. “I just realized Blue hasn’t been telling me shit. I didn’t know about you. It’s not personal.”

“That’s probably my fault. I told her not to tell people.” He bunches a corner of the blanket in a tight fist, before releasing it and smoothing it back out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I just…” He stops, just long enough that Ronan doesn’t think he ever plans to finish the sentence. Then he groans like he’s forcing the truth from someplace buried within him. “Things weren’t good at home so when Persephone offered…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Still,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

The beer is warm and settling in Ronan’s stomach in that way that makes him a little worried sometimes, so he sets it aside. He closes his eyes and reminds himself why he stops. Because it would be so easy to keep going. But he actually likes talking to Adam, and he thinks he might even want to remember this conversation in the morning.

“Blue said you’re a writer?” he asks.

This is a tightrope. Ronan calls himself a writer. His father had called him a writer. Even Declan, for all his infuriating nagging, calls Ronan a writer. But he has nothing to show for it. Nothing’s proud of. People use to ask him this and he’d pull out notebooks full of stories. Sometimes he’d just recite stories from memory like Niall once had. But now, he has nothing to show for the title. He’d trusted the story was here, buried in the hills of Henrietta, sleeping, waiting.

“I guess I am,” he says.

“What do you write?”

“Fantasy.” It’s one of the oldest truths he has to give.

“Only fantasy?” Adam asks. “Never anything else?”

Ronan shakes his head. He’d never had much use for anything else. He’d grown up with his father's stories, grandiose and ridiculous. He’d never conformed to the rules of the mortal world and Rona’s narrative imagination took the hint and ran with it. He silently begs Adam not to ask about his work anymore. Hopes to God he won’t ask to read anything. And he doesn’t. Instead, he tips his head up toward the sky, eyes tracing patterns of stars overhead.

“Tell me something about you,” Ronan says when the silence lingers too long.

“Like what?” He doesn’t move, chin tipped up the heavens and Ronan studies the curve of his jaw.

“Anything true,” he says.

“I’m deaf in my right ear.”

“Really?”

“No,” he says. He’s got a gentle smirk that charms Ronan more than he’s willing to admit. “It’s my left.”

“Can you hear me okay now?”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s quiet.”

The summer passes in hazy waves, washing over him every few weeks as he watches time slip away. He’s done nothing. He’s written nothing. But he tours properties with Gansey and makes art with Blue. He buys a skateboard and lets Noah teach him a few tricks and he let Henry take him to Henrietta’s newest and only gay bar. It’s not the best summer of his life, but it comes pretty damn close.

And then there’s Adam who listens better than anyone he knows. They sit together, nearly every day, either on the porch or in the kitchen. Sometimes they drive miles away from the house in Adam's car, away from Henrietta and they park and they talk.

He tells Adam about the farm and Adam tells him about the trailer. He talks about Declan’s nagging texts about college and Adam talks about using the money from the Greenmantles to pay for classes and textbooks at the local community college.

In September, Adam’s car falls to shit in the driveway and several hours under the hood aren’t enough to fix it so Ronan drives him to work in Maura's car, promising to bring it back immediately so no one got stranded at the house.

He follows the gravel driveway, following the curves and dips just as he had once upon a time. He doesn’t watch Adam, but he can feel himself being watched. “This is where I’m gonna live,” he says, pulling in behind a car too shiny and new to fit in with its surroundings. “I don’t want to buy another place.”

“You mean this is it?” He looks over his shoulder out the window and Ronan watches the line of his shoulder crease. If he could, he’d trace a finger over, push in where the skin dips beneath bone. He turns back before Ronan can pull his gaze away. “This is your perfect house?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No. I guess I just assumed this place would be…”

“Traumatic?”

“Honestly? Yeah.” Adam's gaze floats back to the open field. Ronan can't tell if the expression is jealousy or pity. Maybe it's both. “You don’t see my buying my childhood home.”

“I loved that house. I loved the farm. I could get cattle.”

“You’re gonna buy cows?”

“No, but I could if I had this place.”

“You could always ask if they’d be willing to sell?”

“You work for the guy. Do you think he’d sell it to me?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches the house, eyes full of hope or envy or something dangerous like that. When he turns back, the light of the sunset hits his face and everything seems right. Ronan can picture them sitting on the porch, sipping tea or bourbon on the front porch. He wants this. He wants him. He wants, wants, wants so much it hurts. He reaches, but the whole world lays on a shelf above him, just out of reach.

His mother used to hide cookies on the top shelf, saving them for after dinner. When he closes his eyes, Ronan can see his father’s arm stretched upward pulling the cookie jar down to Ronan. “Just one,” he’d whisper and they’d never speak of it again. Until the next time.

Adam leans forward, pressing warm lips into his and it’s that hand reaching out to him, pulling things down to him that once seemed so impossible he could cry.

He nearly does when Adam pulls away, slowly with a single breath. It was a period, not a comma. It was a thought, not an answer. They let themselves freeze, both leaning over the center console to breathe against one another’s collarbones. This was impossible.

“Do you wanna come look around?” Adam asks.

“Isn’t that a little risky?”

“Mr. And Mrs. Greenmantle aren’t home,” he says. He leans over to unlock Ronan’s seatbelt and the feel of Adam’s arm brushing against his stomach could convince him of almost anything.

“Okay,” he says.

Adam takes him by the hand and leads him around the house, past the empty cow pastures and the shiny new silo. He introduces him to Mr. Gray and the other farmhands and they regale Ronan with stories about Adam at work that make his cheeks flush bright pink.

They climb up the hill and past the old storage shed, just the two of them.

“That thing’s still around?”

“Yeah. It’s old as shit. I can tell.” Adam kicks up some gravel and a small cloud forms around his ankles. “A lot of the old equipment up there’s never been used. Greenmantle just leaves it lying around and sends me up there twice a week to look for something.”

“Yeah. That roof leaks every spring.”

“I know. I keep bugging him to have someone look at it.” He shrugs, the noncommittal gesture of someone who is used to being ignored. Ronan takes care to grip his shoulder with a weighted strength. And he looks at this guy, so fucking beautiful and so capable, and wonders how anyone could see him in any other light.

“Show me the house,” he says, wrapping his other arm around Adam’s waist.

“We’re gonna get caught.”

“Then we’ll have to be fast,” Ronan says. “Lucky for you, fast is my specialty.”

“Stop,” he says. He pushes away, without a second glance and bolts for the barn as soon as he’s out of Ronan’s grip.

“Hey,” Ronan calls after him. He watches as Adam turns, pulling anxiously at his bangs as they flop into his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I just miss this place.”

He thinks of the smell of cinnamon in the kitchen and the dent Declan’s head made in the hardwood and the green slime stain on the carpet in Matthew’s room. He wants it back even for a moment. He wants it more than anything. Anything except Adam.

But Adam pulls another breath into his lungs and says. “Okay, but we have to be quick.”

He takes Ronan’s hand in his, leading him toward the house, pulling at his finger and the heat trapped between their palms travels all the way up Ronan’s arm. He lets himself be dragged until they reach the porch. He pulls a key from the sconce and opens the front door. The same one Ronan remembered. He could picture his mother, standing in the foyer if he focused.

The craziness of it all strikes him as he stands there. He thought he’d never see this place again, but he’s standing there and he’s so close to what he wants and yet so far. So he pulls Adam in for another kiss, this one messier, hungrier. He buries his hands in the hair on the back of Adam’s neck.

“What are you doing here?”

Ronan turns back to the open door and there is Greenmantle in all his smarmy glory. Ronan previously thought his teenage memories had exaggerated, but he was clearly right all along. This guy simply looks like a bastard.

“Sir,” Adam says. It’s a plea, a desperate Hail Mary from someone Ronan once thought was too proud for such things.

“Get out,” he says. He holds his hand out and Adam slowly drops the keys. He doesn’t look at Greenmantle or Ronan. He watches his feet. Ronan can’t help but watch him. “And don’t come back. You’re done.”

They don’t talk on the way back to the car. There is nothing to say. Adam slams the door as he sits. He makes a sound, so low, so guttural, Ronan would’ve thought it came from one of the animals.

“You took it too far. I lost my job, Ronan!”

“I know that.” He puts his keys in the ignition and lets the engine roar to life under them. He feels better, but Adam clearly doesn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“If I don’t have a job, I can’t keep paying for school.”

“Listen, I know. I’ll help you. It’s not like I’m gonna let your freeze out there.”

“Oh yeah, cause your dream comes before everything else, huh? What about my dream?” He takes a harsh breath and hunches over the dash, refusing to meet Ronan’s eyes. It’s possible there are tears, but Ronan feels too guilty to look more closely.

“What fucking dream, Parrish? Your big dream is to spend the rest of your life slaving away so some dipshit in suit and tie gets to summer in Guam. That’s not a dream. That’s a nightmare.”

“It’s better than this.” He drops his head to his knees, burying his face. He has nothing to worry about. Ronan couldn’t look at his face if wanted to. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Then let help you find something better.”

“This is why you don’t know anything about Blue. You’re too caught up in your own bullshit to realize the rest of us have stuff going on too.”

He drives Adam back to the house without another word. He doesn’t go inside. He doesn’t want to see anyone else. He wants to drive. He takes the backroads too fast and the curves too sharp. He lets the road lead him to the convenience store just up the road. At least he saves the whiskey until he gets back to the house.

When he wakes in the morning, he doesn’t remember much after he got back. But he’s on the porch, back aching and head throbbing instead of tucked away on the couch, so he’s willing to bet it didn’t go well. Maura is sipping tea at the kitchen table. “Wanna tell me what you were doing out there? With my car?”

He shakes his head. He tests his voice, but it’s rough and gravely. He clears it into his fist before trying again. “Is Adam here?”

“He went to talk to Greenmantle.” She sips her tea again, placing it beside her. She looks up, trying to look him in the eyes, but Ronan stares at the table, the floor, anything but her face. She gives up, crossing the room to fill a glass with water from the sink “Blue and the boys went with him,” she says, handing it to him. "they said they were going to get his job back."

He sips at it cautiously. It lands in his stomach with a splash, so he stops, letting it settle before sipping again. “I need to go see him.”

“Is that a good idea?”

He drains the rest of the glass in one gulp and sets the glass back on the table. “I don’t know,” he says. With a clearer head and a couple of Ibuprofen, he hops in his car and prays for one more miracle.

Mr. Gray is there when the BMW crawls up the drive. He directs Ronan to the old shed, before reminding him to not get caught.

Adam’s got the door to the shed propped open so he sees Ronan coming from a mile away. “Go,” he says once they’re close enough to talk without yelling.

“Parrish, I just wanted to apologize.”

“Don’t pull a muscle.”

“I’m trying to act like a grown-up here. Would you come talk to me?”

“Talking to you got me stuck up here cataloging inventory in the first place. I had to beg for my job back.” He drops an ax beside him with a resounding crack that catches them both off guard. They stare at each other for a moment, caught up in their confusion before Adam turns back to his work. Ronan can’t look away. “Just leave me alone. We can talk tonight.”

The crack returns followed by a crash and Adam’s head dips beneath the stacked crates without time to so much as scream.

“Parrish!”

He rushes forward, forgetting to consider the already fragile flooring. It bends and moans in front of him. He pulls back, leaning over the boxes to get a view of the hole, slowly spreading as bits of wood flake off. “Parrish?” he yells begging his friend or God for an answer.

Both God and Adam seem to have other plans as Greenmantle rounds the corner. “What the hell was that sound? What are you doing here?”

“Parrish, can you hear me?” He waits for an answer. A beat. Nothing. He’s not a patient guy, but he waits for a second longer, prays for so much as a grunt or groan, but nothing. “He fell through.”

“What do you mean he feel through?”

“I’m not a fucking contractor. He fell through the fucking floor. What else do you need to know?”

Mr. Gray is there in an instant. He stays back graciously and doesn’t seem interested outside the basics. “Is he responding?”

“No,��� Ronan says. He thanks God that someone else is taking over the situation because he's beginning to feel horribly unqualified. “I think he’s unconscious.”

“Do you have your phone on you?”

“No. I left it in my car.”

Mr. Gray turns to Greenmantle wordlessly. The two exchange looks that seem to cycle through an entire exasperated conversation before Greenmantle spits out “I don’t have service out here.”

“Ronan?” Blue yells, rushing forward. Henry, Noah, and Gansey follow her. He holds out a hand to keep them back. He watches the hole, waiting for it to spread, and feels it bobble beneath him. He’s not safe either and he knows it, but if someone else comes inside, they’re definitely fucked. He looks at her though and the unshed tears in her eyes undo him.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he can say anything. He’s trapped leaning over a hole and Parrish is trapped and the whole world is pulling in toward him and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it off. Still, he says “I’m okay. But if I move the rest of this place is gonna cave in on him.”

Gansey runs up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He tucks her into his chest and they both stare back, discomfort clear in their eyes. They flash him matching encouraging smiles through the fear.

“I’m gonna call 911,” Henry yells, sprinting back across the field from where he came. No one stops to thank him.

“Is this really necessary?” Greenmantle asks.

“It may be a while before anyone makes it out here,” Mr. Gray says. “Ronan, if we can get you out, they’ll be able to get to Adam quicker. Can you sit down where you are?”

Ronan pushes a box of small garden tools off to the side, clearing enough of a path for him to sit down. He lowers himself gently, holding his breath the whole way down. He doesn’t release until his ass hits the floor.

“Good,” Mr. Gray says. He leans forward, peering over the mess to meet his eyes. Ronan sees his own fear and panic reflected in the man’s eyes. “Now roll onto your stomach, okay? You’re gonna crawl.”

He pushed himself over, turning as slow as he could. The floor groaned again beneath him. “This isn’t working. This is all gonna end up on top of him.”

“No. It’s not. You’re going to crawl toward me. You ever play army guy when you were a kid? It’s just like that. Keep your stomach on the ground and crawl.”

Ronan crawls. He can't see the other from the ground, but he can hear them talking around him.

“We can’t get to Adam until we’ve got him safe," Mr. Gray says. His voice is calm, but in the overly-controlled way that indicates a person is not actually calm at all. “If we tear down that back wall, we may be able to dig through to him.”

“We might just end up staking more debris on top of him,” Greenmantle says.

“I don’t know how else to access him.”

“There’s a crawlspace,” Ronan says. He pulls himself past an old ladder, taking care to avoid rusty nails and a suspicious stain. He thinks about his last tetanus shot and decides a booster couldn't hurt.

“What?” Greenmantle leans down to stare at Ronan through a gap. Ronan ignores his furrowed brow and exasperated tone.

“There’s a crawlspace underneath.” He pulls himself another inch and Gansey is there offering a hand. He takes it graciously and Gansey pulls him the last few inches off the foundation and through the doorway. Mr. Gray leans over and tugs on his other hand pulling him up. He’s still coughing from the dust and panic as he throws himself around the corner of the building to the small wooden door.

The deadbolt gives way with little fuss despite the copious amounts of rust around it. “Adam?” he yells into the entrance, but there’s still no response.

“I’m little,” Blue says. “I can fit more easily.”

“You’re not dressed for it. There’s ticks and shit down there.” He hurriedly tucks his jeans into his boots and slides through the door before anyone can stop him.

He can see the damage as soon as his eyes adjust to the dark. And then he’s army crawling again. He pulls himself forward, pushing past bugs and dirt and what he thinks was once a raccoon. He crawls until he reaches and a chunk of wood too big to move. He has no leverage in the slim space around him. He can barely push himself up. His shoulders are squished in too tight to move anything heavy. He kicks himself for not thinking of a better plan. He crawls around the wood, blinking dust from his eyes and searching for any sign of Adam.

He peeks past the beam to see a clear space on the other side. He sees the ax to his left. He’s here. He’s somewhere in this place. He’s so close Ronan could touch him except he’s hidden and not responding. “Adam?” he yells one last time.

There’s a groan, soft and pained, but a groan nonetheless.

“Ronan? Can you hear us?” Mr. Gray yells.

“Yeah,” he calls back. “Kinda busy here.”

“You need to get out of there, Ronan.”

“Let me just get to him.”

“Ronan, now!” Gansey yells.

There’s another crack and a plank falls on top of the stack. But it stops as soon as it starts. The dust settles into his eyes and he can’t see in front of him, but he can hear the gasps and murmurs from above him. “I’m okay.”

“Ronan get out now.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Adam coughs. It’s harsh and pained, but it’s the best sound he’s heard because he can tell where it came from. He pulls the ax toward him. There isn’t room to swing, but he doesn’t want to anyway, not with Adam so close. He smashes it into the block of wood. It doesn’t split, but he’s got enough force to crack and splinter it. With a few more strikes, it breaks away just enough to wiggle. He pulls it back, throws it over his shoulder and there is Adam.

He’s pale, coated in a layer of dust and grime and his temple’s a mess of blood, but he’s the best thing Ronan’s ever seen. He collapses by his side, sweeping a hand over the blood clumping in his bangs. He weighs the danger of spinal injuries against the threat of another collapse. The voices screaming above him win out. He ends up pulling Adam behind him, trying to keep his head and neck as steady as possible.

Mr. Gray waits at the door and Ronan is more than happy to hand Adam over to him. He pulls Adam into his arms and immediately heads for the driveway where an ambulance is pulling up. Ronan falters back a step at the ominous task of pulling himself back out.

When he turns back to the opening, his friends are there. Noah and Gansey reach down, grabbing Ronan by the biceps and hauling him out with minimal assistance from himself. Henry hands him a bottle of water and a towel as soon as he touches the ground again. And Blue says nothing, simply throws herself at him, face into his chest, and hugs tighter than she ever had before. And he lets her.

And when he starts coughing, they help him sip from the water. When he coughs so hard he throws up, they pull him to his feet, dragging him toward the ambulance as well.

In the end, Ronan’s lungs are okay. He’s advised not to inhale large quantities of dust again. He tells the ER nurse where she can go. It’s all quite civil as far as Ronan’s concerned.

Persephone hugs Ronan as soon as she arrives at the hospital. She doesn’t say anything, just wraps her arms around him in a gesture he understands as a thank you. He doesn’t tell her it was no big deal, but he squeezes her back and hopes the message is clear.

Adam’s broken arm, three broken ribs, and moderate concussion are fairly underwhelming as far as structural collapse injuries go. “What did I tell you?” he says that evening when he’s staying awake for more than 30 seconds at a time. “I’m hard to kill.”

No one finds this quite as funny as Adam, but he’s awake and healthy enough to be laughing.

When Greenmantle arrives at the hospital, not twenty minutes before the end of visiting hours, Ronan is fully prepared to drag the man from the room, but Adam stops him. “Actually I’ve been wanting to talk. Please, Mr. Greenmantle. Come sit.” He takes the only seat in the room, facing across from Adam like a business meeting. Adam drops a folder on the stand over his bed. He pulls the papers out and spreads them out. “Here I have copies of my timesheets, dating back to last June with reminders from me to call a contractor about the shed. And you signed off on all these, didn’t you?” Greenmentle nods, Adam's apple bobbing anxiously. “What do you think a lawyer would think of these, Mr. Greenmantle?”

“Well, I — uh.”

“But I don’t really want to sue you.” He sweeps the page back up into a file and slips them back into the folder. “This isn’t some sort of moral high ground thing either. I should sue you. I just think we can solve this without any lawyers, don’t you?”

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”

“So what do you say, you sell my friend Ronan your farm and we can all go about our lives.”

“Well I’m sure we can talk about prices, but this particular property is quite valuable. I’ll have to get a fair price for it of course.”

Gansey steps forward, clutching his own folder. This one is red and labeled “Greenmantle can suck my Dick III.”

“Actually we have some numbers here for you, sir.” He shuffles through the papers contained and pulled one from the bottom of the pile. He folds it over and presents it to Greenmantle with a flourish, that is unusually snarky for Gansey. Ronan finds himself charmed by it.

“This is considerably less than I paid, Mr. Gansey.”

Adam clears his throat. “Yes, but let’s pretend I did take you to court. If you look here, this is an estimation of what you’d be paying based on some employer negligence data I found. So all in all, I think you’ll find that to be a very fair price given what you could end up paying.”

“I see…”

“And of course, this way your wife never has to find out about any of this. She didn’t want you spending too much on the property if my memory serves me well.” It’s bold talk from someone who slurred and mumbled his way through the alphabet just a few hours ago, but he’s bouncing back fast. “Sleep on it. Come talk to me again tomorrow.”

Greenmantle shuffles out of the room, clutching the paperwork to his chest. Ronan likes his odds.

The nurse knocks softly on the door. “Visiting hours are ending soon,” she says. “One of you can stay with him overnight if you want, but everyone else needs to head out.” Persephone scoots closer to the bed, wrapping her fingers lightly around Adam’s wrist and Ronan wouldn’t dream of trying to fight her over this.

Ronan pats Adam twice on the leg, a friendly gesture and nothing more, but fingers grip at the hem of his jacket.

“Can I talk to Ronan alone for a minute?” he asks Persephone, who nods quietly and shuffles out with the rest of the crowd. And when it’s quiet and everyone else has become a memory, Ronan pushes himself up onto the side of the bed, leaving little room for Adam to wiggle himself up into a seated position.

“Stop,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself. Jesus, Parrish. They’re gonna kick me out for good if I knee you in the ribcage.”

“I’m real sorry, Ronan.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t apologize just cause I saved you. I would’ve done it anyway.”

He leans back, petulant as a child. “I’m not. But I went too far and I am sorry.” He grips the blanket like that night under the stars before releasing it again. "What I said about Blue..."

“You weren’t wrong. But I'm gonna do better Parrish. I want to be better.” He watches the way Adam's brow creases and for the first time in a long time, he understands why people keep going when shit sucks. If he’d known that face, scrunched and focused as he chewed on the edge of his swollen lip, was waiting on the other side, he never would’ve considered any other option. This was what people live for, this feeling here. This is what people write poems and songs and fucking dystopian YA trilogies about. There's an entire story in the shit-eating grin. And he found it. The goddamn holy grail. “I just want to see you happy.”

“And that dream thing? You were right," he says. "It turns out I’ve been paddling upstream for nineteen years without ever knowing where the creek drops off.”

“Then you draw your own map and you figure out how to make the water do what you tell it.”

“And what are your big plans, Lynch?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m buying a farm.”

[taehyungsgrowl]

Let me tell you, Duncan once catch y/n and Jim stalking and thristing about some pretty boys on insta. he had all the feelings, dunc was a little discouraged, self conscious, a little sad with a mix of mad but mostly JEALOUS. He hide in his office for a while thinking about giving them the silent treatment but finally deciding on being more rough (n' extra dom) with them that night trying to show them he is the only one that can make them feel so freaking good 👌 -drunk anon

{gif credit to @arthmorgn}

This is an old ask, but since we’ve all been missing Duncan x Sugar Babies - I thought it’d be a good time to revisit this. 

This made my tummy do little flips because.. well.. jealous Duncan is a whole ass concept that I adore. Because thirsty hoe. 

A few extra thank yous to @langdonsinferno @wickedlangdon , and @lvngdvns s  for helping build my dom!duncan. Also.. considering the standards in this fandom - this isn’t very mean!dom or extra rough. So. Please be nice lol I’ve gotten far too used to writing soft pieces. 

As always, thank you for reading & enjoy!

“It’s unfair, really.” Jim slumped into the plush sofa. His thumb scrolled on his screen, “He’s just so damn hot.” 

“I know.” Y/N was laid on the couch with her head resting on Jim’s lap. “Let me see!” she took the phone from his hands to closer examine the image on his phone. 

“He’s so pretty. I bet he only drinks and eats kombucha and kale salads.” She commented out loud on the photo of the attractive Instagram influencer that both Jim and she obsessed with. 

Duncan came around the corner to see his babies playing nice on the couch. He always loved seeing how those two could feed off each others energies. The perfect little bundle. 

“He’s just so damn hot.” Duncan heard Jim say. His lips twitched up in a smile, thinking Jim was talking about him. He continued to overhear their conversation - he quickly put together they weren’t talking about him. Heat rushed to his face and his heart dropped. 

It was ridiculous to feel upset over it; he knew that. But it didn’t matter. He looked down at himself, noticing how his dark shirt clung a little to his tummy.  What did Donavan the Instagram model have that Duncan didn’t?

“I think anyone who has to Facetune their photos so much, isn’t worth all the attention.” Duncan spoke up as he approached them. 

“Besides, I can - or rather, I am giving you guys the life style he promotes, am I not?” Duncan sat on the ottoman, scratching his beard - something he always did when he was annoyed. It was only one of the reasons he didn’t play poker with his friends anymore - they figured out his tell tale sign. 

Y/N and Jim exchanged a look. What in the hell had gotten into Duncan? “It’s all in good fun,” Jim offered, putting his phone away. 

“It’s not like you don’t follow models on instagram. Don’t tell me you’re jealous, daddy?” Y/N liked pushing his buttons. Jim stifled a giggle and avoided Duncan’s eyes. Y/N may be the brat in their relationship, but Jim always managed to go down with her. 

Duncan rolled his eyes so far back into his head, “Right. Because I would be jealous of him,” he scoffed. “You two enjoy your screen time. I have work to do.” 

“Shit..” Jim whispered quietly. 

“He’ll be alright, Jim.” Y/N reassured him. “We gotta think of ways to make it up to him,” she winked and poked at his ribs, making him giggle. 

Duncan retreated back to his office to get work done. Or so he told himself. In truth, he hated how jealous he felt, but he couldn’t entertain the idea of his babies wanting someone who wasn’t him. They were his and always will be. 

He understood that the person on the screen wasn’t a real threat to him or what he shared with them; but he didn’t want Y/N to start comparing him to an unrealistic hyped up model. Not when they had something real. 

His fingers tapped on the smooth mahogany - too lost in his own thoughts to get any actual work done.

The door creaked open and he looked up from his absentminded doodles he’d made on a sheet of paper.

Jim and Y/N treaded lightly into the corridors of his office. Both on them dressed for bed; Jim in his plaid boxers and Y/N in an old T-shirt that came down to her thighs. 

Duncan had managed to avoid speaking to them for the rest of the day. Sure, the silent treatment wasn’t the most mature response to the situation, but Duncan didn’t play fair. 

“Are you coming to bed with us?” Jim pouted. Sweet Jim, Duncan thought. He could see the desperation on him - both of them, really. He glanced at Y/N and how she nervously toyed with the hem of her shirt. 

A dark chuckle passed his lips as he stood from his desk and walked over to them. He noticed they way Jim and Y/N’s hands brushed against each other as he approached them. 

“Now,” he grabbed Jim’s chin, looking into his blue eyes, “Are you sure you don’t want someone else in bed with you, baby?” The corner of his eye watched his other sugar baby. 

“N-no,” Jim stuttered, “We want you, daddy. Only you.” 

“Hmm,” he dropped Jim’s chin and turned to face his girl, “What about you, princess? Are you aching for someone else’s cock?” 

She shook her head timidly. The way his crystal blue eyes har darkened and his jaw was tense, made her insides turn.  

“Use your words, Y/N.” his eyes narrowed. 

“No, daddy,” she licked her lip, not daring to drop her gaze from his eyes. 

“Seemed that both of you” each one of his hands found their way to their crotches. He gently palmed over Jim’s hard on while his left index finger slowly ran up and down Y/N’s panties, “were more preoccupied with someone else. Don’t forget; you’re mine.” 

Poor Jim began attempted to grind himself on Duncan’s palm. 

He felt the blood rush to his lower abdomen as Duncan continued to touch him, “Please,” he finally let out. There was something magical about the way his body responded to Duncan. To his voice, to his touch, even a simple look made his knees go weak. 

The older man’s hand stopped briefly. Only enough for him to lean towards Jim. Jim felt Duncan with every fiber of his being -  his hot breath ghosted over his lips as they hung open. They always say that the moment before a kiss is better than the kiss itself. 

His blue eyes fluttered as his anticipated Duncan’s mouth on him. And he did feel Duncan’s lips. Just not in the tender kiss he expected. 

Duncan leaned forward and caught Jim’s plump bottom lip between his pearly white teeth. He tugged back, brining the boys lip with him. A possessive gesture. One that made Y/N grow wetter by simply watching. 

“Ahh,” a strangled whimper left Jim’s mouth. Duncan released him with a sinful curve of his lips. 

He turned his attention to Y/N, who had now soaked through her cotton panties. His fingers were sticky with her arousal and all he’d done was brush up against her clothed pussy. That’s my girl, he thought. 

Duncan brought his fingers up to his mouth - sucking on them slowly. 

So  s l o w l y. 

Jim’s cock twitched in his boxers at the sight of Duncan’s hollowed cheeks and pink bubblegum tongue. 

“C-come to bed with us,” she begged, “please,” 

Hiss gaze was like that of a tiger watching his prey, glancing between the two of them. His hands had stopped their pleasing motions. 

“Show me how much you want me.” he shrugged. His typically cool demeanor never faltering. Unamused smirk twitched (much like his own growing bulge). 

Jim and Y/N felt the tension in their shoulders drop. Both still so turned on for Duncan and his power games. He loved to make them edge and beg for him.

Y/N took Duncan’s smooth hand and dragged in under her shirt. He could feel the softness of her skin and each dip and curve of her body. She stopped when he grasped at her breast, “We’re all yours,” she whispered. 

Duncan laughed, pulling her in close. His tongue protruded from his lips and licked a stripe up her neck. She shuddered lightly feeling marked by Duncan. 

Jim licked his own lips in anticipation again. Duncan always loved making that antsy boy wait. He needed a lesson in patience anyway. 

“On your knees, princess.” the rasp of his voice rang low in her ears. 

Promptly, she dropped down without missing a beat. 

“Now, baby boy.” he grabbed the back of Jim’s hair, tugging it just enough to sting a little, “Gonna show me how damn hot you think I am,” he teased him. 

“Yes, daddy.” eager little Jim joined his co-baby on the floor. 

Without much more buildup, their daddy took his hard cock out for them. He loved feeling their greedy mouths on him. Never quite fighting for him, but always working together for Duncan. 

Y/N Jim let their tongues and wet mouths be the ones who ask Duncan for forgiveness. With each swipe of their tongue on a vein was like a boost to Duncan’s ego. 

Fingers laced into their hair as he held them close to him. Each one them taking turns with his cock. Kissing it. Sucking it. Pleasing him. 

Jim grabbed Y/N’s chin after releasing Duncan from his mouth and kissed her hard. She felt her lips turn to mush at the hardness of his kiss. Her tongue slipped between his parted lips and tasted the faint taste of Duncan. Jim and Y/N groped at his length and jerked his forward. 

“God,” a robust groan came from Duncan, “Feels so good,” his fist clenched in their hair as he released his load on their shared kiss. 

His dick stayed hard with the scene of them cleaning his cum off each other. Sloppy, wet, and erotic was the only way to describe it. They shared his hot white gloss. 

“Get up,” he commanded, once they had wiped his cum off their faces. They sheepishly obeyed his orders, standing up again. “I’m not done with you yet.” He circled around them; both covered in his cum and with obvious wet spots on their underwear. He could practically see Jim’s leaking red cock through the dark fabric. 

Duncan nodded his head towards the desk, a silent order. One that Jim knew well. All it took was one look and Jim knew. He glanced back at Y/N before bending over the desk and spreading his legs slightly. 

Blood was pounding in his hot ears as he awaited what Duncan would do to him. Would he start by spreading open his cheeks and ramming his cock inside? Or maybe he’d take his time and swat his ass a few times until it was red, raw, and ready to be pounded. Either wave, Jim was aching at the thought. 

He tried to subtly rub himself against the edge of the desk. The hard soon sent a painful wave of pleasure.

Duncan walked over to the expensive mahogany desk. He ran his long fingers over the surface; let the gingerly dance along the smoothes. He knew the way Jim’s stomach was bubbling now. So eager for what awaited his baby boy. 

And Y/N. His fucking princess; left soaked and agape as Duncan gave her no further instruction. Yet. 

Her eyes were fixated on Duncan’s veiny hand and how it seemed to manuever expertly. She wanted -no. Needed to have them on her. 

Duncan’s dark eyes peeled away from her momentarily as he pulled something out of a drawer. He held the shiny, black, toy in both hands slightly rubbing the wand in a jerking motion. 

Jim’s pretty pink hole began clenching. Both him and Y/N had previously experienced this toy of Duncan’s. Jim’s mind became hazy remembering all the orgasms that little wand hand given him. He bucked his hips into the desk again, miserable whimper leaving his mouth. 

“Oh, baby,” Duncan’s coo was covered in false sympathy, “Desperately trying to get off like that on my desk isn’t going to make me fuck you any faster.” 

He turned his attention to Y/N who was now pressing her thighs together. Her sticky arousal gliding down her legs. He motioned her to him with his index finger; another silent order his baby new well. 

Y/N stood in between the two men. She couldn’t help but notice how heavily Jim was breathing. 

Duncan handed her the sleek anal vibrator. It felt heavy in her hands; usually the one controlling it, controlling her, was Duncan.

He walked over to Jim and tore off his underwear. The cool air hitting his precum soaked head made him hiss. “Duncan, please. It hurts now. I - I need to cum,” Jim cried out. 

“Duncan?” Duncan shook his head, “Oh, you know better than that, baby. Don’t tell me someone else is your daddy.” he pulled Jim’s hair back, his head rolled back to look at Duncan. “Who’s your daddy?” 

The harsh tug on his scalp made his skin tingle. The mixture of pain and pleasure taking over. 

“You!!” Jim yelped, “you, daddy.”

The verbal validation was great for Duncan, but nothing was better than the physical manifestation of having them crumble at his will.

He released his grip on Jim’s hair. Pulling Y/N over to him, he made her stand directly behind Jim. Ghosting his lips over hers, he quietly said, “You’re going to ruin Jimmy for me.” his voice was low and husky. 

Duncan spit on two of his fingers and smeared his hot saliva on Jim’s opening. 

A barely there gasp came from both of his babies. Y/N watched in awe as Jim’s ass reacted to Duncan’s touch. She gulped silently, nervous about what he meant by ruining Jim. 

“You’re gonna follow each one of my orders, princess,” it wasn’t question. He stepped back, seeing the ruffled expressions of his baby girl. “Go on,” He unbuckled the belt of his pants, “Cover it in your spit. Get it nice and wet for him.”

She stuck the toy in her mouth, wrapping her lips securely around it. She made obscene sounds, sucking it for Duncan. 

“That’s enough,” he put his hand up and held on to his belt tightly. 

“Stretch him, open,” Duncan was so hard. He had a perfect view of Jim’s asshole, red, wet, and gaping. 

She carefully pressed the end of the toy to his hole, “Please,” begged Jim. 

“I didn’t say stop,” Duncan quipped.

She continued pushing in as Jim cursed under his breath. His knuckles were white from the grip on the desk. 

“Turn the pulse on - fastest setting. You know the one you like so much, baby?” he smirked. 

Y/N turned the vibration settings on, following Duncan’s order. Jim’s thighs were shaking. He rutted his hips into the sharp edge. 

Duncan kneeled behind Y/N and discarded her panties. He smacked her ass ruthlessly, making sure his handprints were left behind. He gripped at her fleshy, full bottom after each spank. 

“Harder,” he barely heard her speak. “Harder?” he repeated. 

Jim was losing himself as Y/N continued to pump him with the toy. 

“Don’t test me, Y/N.” he spanked her ass again, bruising it with his palm.

Duncan spread her cheeks apart, taking in a good look at her glistening pussy. 

Her lips were parted by his long middle finger as he gathered her juices. His fingers searched for her swollen bud. Once he found the sensitive bundle, he pinched down on it. 

Duncan was brutal on her pussy. His fingers fucked into her deeply, curving and scraping on the spongy pink flesh.

Bratty Y/N was no where to be seen. She was a whimpering mess as Duncan worked her hard, “What was that?” he taunted.

“Tell me who makes you feel so good,” he growled and bit into her ass. 

“You daddy,” her childish whine making both Jim and Duncan moan. 

Her hold on the toy that penetrated Jim was shaky, making each and every thrust unexpected for Jim. 

“That’s right. Never forget who makes you feel like this. Both of you.” he attached his lips to her clit and sucked it. Her taste was as sweet as nectar and he was taking straight from the fruit. 

“So, fucking close,” Jim panted. Each wave the toy sent to his prostate sending him into overdrive. 

“Turn it off.” he mumbled into her cunt. “Turn off the toy,” 

She fumbled shortly but managed to obey him. 

“You’re not cumming yet. You’ll cum when I say so,” Y/N slumped forward as he got off his knees -  the ache between her thighs still there. 

Duncan carefully took the toy out of Jim and began walking out of his office without another word. 

“Come on,” he called from the hallway. Jim and Y/N both felt like they could barely walk. 

They followed him into the room where he now laid on their bed, his clothes discarded. His own veiny cock sprung proudly against the happy trail on his lower stomach. Y/N loved feeling it against her base skin when the fucked chest to chest. 

“Come ride my cock, baby,” Jim nodded eager to please. 

He climbed over Duncan, positioning himself above. He grabbed the base of the Duncan’s cock and sank down on it. Y/N had prepared his tight little ass for Duncan. 

Jim could feel the indentations of Duncan’s nails sinking into his skin begin to form. He started grinding his hips, forward and back, wiggling. His cock was leaking down his shaft and on to the base of Duncan’s balls. 

“You’re so fucking tight.” Duncan touched Jim’s length, he fisted the boys cock and began lazily pumping him. 

“Princess, I”m not done tasting my sweet pussy. Come here.” he slapped his own face slightly with his free hand. 

Y/N spread her thighs around his face, dropping her dripping cunt on his mouth. His tongue darted inside and began fucking her. His tongue spiraled around her clitoris. 

The room was filled with sloppy, wet, sounds of flesh slapping together. 

Y/N pulled Jim to her and kissed him. A slow sensual kiss that Duncan wish he could have seen. It was the brushing of her tongue on his mixed with tightening grip Duncan had on his cock that finally had Jim cum. He spurted his stickiness on to his and Duncan’s tummy. 

Duncan moaned feeling the hot cream land on him. Before long, he felt himself coming undone for the second time that night. 

His tongue movements slowed down as he orgasmed. The slow kitten licks on her clit made her calves tense. She was so close. 

“Daddy, please. I wanna cum too. I’ve been good, please, please please,” she pleaded in soft panting. 

He nodded beneath her and worked her clit until she collapsed. Jim helped by helping her balance as she rode Duncan’s tongue. His hands caressed down her body, paying extra attention to her full breasts. 

Duncan tasted her cum on his tongue as she finished for him.

Sweaty, hot, and messy, they laid on the bed, too warn out to move. 

Y/N and Jim rested their heads on their daddy’s tummy, eye drifting off.

“We’re sorry, daddy,” Y/N mumbled almost fast asleep.

"We’re all yours” Jim reassured him.

Duncan smiled down at them even though they couldn’t see his face. He stroked their head lightly, “I know, my loves. I’m all yours too,”

****

Thank y’all for reading. This took me longer than expected because I really wanted to deliver for drunk anon and give her some dom!duncan instead of my go-to soft!daddy!duncan (getting out of my comfort zone a little bit tysm)

Again, thank you for those I asked on for opinions/suggestions. I love reading some dom/harsh stuff, but when it comes to writing - i always go super soft so yeee i appreciate :)

Tags: @1-800-bitchcraft @divinelangdon @dvncans @langdonsdemon  @plsfuckmelangdon @langdonsoceaneyes @mega-combusken @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @lathraios @ticklish-leafy-plant @wvntersldr @wroteclassicaly @michael-langdon-appreciation @ritualmichael @langdonswhoreprobably @viridarium-girl @coollangdon @bbyduncan @venusxxlangdon @langdonsfeed @rocketgirl2410 @cocosfern @ccodyfern @lovelylangdons @sammythankyou @maso-xchrist  @langdvnshepherd @americanhorrorstudies @icylangdon  @emmyrosee  @ladynuwanda @flowersiren @starwlkers @littledemondani @queencocoakimmie @fckinsupreme @langdonscherry

I will be rebuilding my taglist soon (?) so please lmk if you’d like to be added or removed. 

[sucaritra]

Bāṛi - Chapter 4

Word Count: 2378

Warnings: language, anxiety, Negan

Summary: the dreaded meeting with Negan is finally here!

A/N: you have no idea how much i struggled with this chapter. writing Negan is so much harder than i originally anticipated

Common sense told you that you just had the pleasure of meeting the fearless leader of the Sanctuary in all his glory, but that didn't stop you from questioning Simon about what you'd just witnessed before he could even take his seat opposite you again.

“Yeah, probably shoulda warned you about that.” You could only stare incredulously as he shrugged and dove right back into his dinner, looking at you as if you were the one that was crazy and not the people prostrating themselves around you for one man. The odd, cult-like behaviour brought goosebumps to your skin, making you wonder what other surprises Simon was hiding from you.

While kneeling for someone wasn't something you were entirely keen on, you knew it wasn't the worst thing you could be doing just to survive. Hell, you wouldn't just be surviving here, you'd be living. As you hadn't been informed of this particular rule, Simon reassured you that you weren't in any trouble, though it was time to finally meet the boss properly. This did nothing to ease your ever-present anxiety.

“You need to relax, it’s honestly not that bad. He’ll just go over the rules again, give you a couple of options and then you're done. Simple.”

“Options?”

“Yeah, like what positions are available for you here.” Simon was careful not to give too much away; he didn't need you freaking out on him anymore than you already were. He didn't know what it was about you, maybe it was your accent or those damn doe eyes, hell, maybe it’s just who you are in general but Simon’s found himself taking a liking to you. Sure, the lack of eye contact was freaking annoying, especially when he was talking to you, but he just put it down to the justified nerves of being in a new place. It was also offbeat for him to spend as much time with a newbie as he was with you; usually he’d just burden you on Dwight or another savior, but he’s found himself wanting to spend as much time with you as possible. You were new and different from the regular survivors that turn up at the Sanctuary, and until the novelty wore off, he was sticking close by.

Soon, Simon led you to the top floor of the building where Negan resides. The dark stairwells and tall, winding staircase made the trip up seem even more foreboding than the imminent meeting had you feeling, causing you to try and regulate your breathing, both from the anxiety creeping up on you and the exhaustion from climbing so many stairs. You figured you were being subtle, but the slight, unattractive wheezes pushing past your lips brought a small smirk to Simon’s face, causing your cheeks to bloom red.

Slowing down his pace once at the top to allow you to catch your breath, Simon led you to a set of dark, mahogany doors. Knocking twice, you held your breath as you strained to hear any sounds of life on the other side, hearing nothing. After what felt like forever - he was definitely letting you stew in your nerves, dick - a booming voice called for you to enter.

The bright light in the room immediately assaulted your eyes, a huge contrast to the gloomy hallways you came in from, and you had to squint slightly to stop the tears stinging at your eyes. The source of the light is the first thing you notice, as straight ahead of you are floor-to-ceiling windows, much cleaner compared to the grimy windows in the rest of the building. In front of the windows sits a large, imposing desk with a black swivel chair behind it, the occupant of which is seated and staring out through the windows at the compound below. You half expect him to be stroking a white cat on his lap when he turns around, and are slightly disappointed when he doesn't.

“You can go now Simon,” his eyes stay locked on yours as he relieves Simon of his duties, a large smile gracing his features. Fuck. Why did he have to be so damn handsome?! As if you weren't nervous enough, you feel a slight crush begin to develop the longer you stare at him, trying not to drool. He's tall and broad, wearing a white t-shirt that stretches over his chest. “Well, you gonna stand there all day or are you gonna take a seat?” The unexpected break in the silence causes you to jump slightly, resulting in him chuckling under his breath as you rush to take a seat on the chair opposite him at the desk.

You're leg bounces and your hands twitch as he pierces you with his umber gaze.

“Do you know who I am, sweetheart?”

“Uh, Negan right?” his pearly whites are on show as his smile broadens.

“That's right, and you are…?”

“Maria”

“Maria, you've gotta see her,” he caught your less than subtle eye roll and the small smile adorning your face as he sang the old Blondie song, causing him to laugh under his breath. “What, you heard that one before?”

“All the time in school, mostly from teachers. That and “how do you solve a problem like Maria?” his eyes widened comically as you sang, making you squirm in your seat slightly.

“Holy shit! You sing?” you gave a noncommittal shrug, “I’ve been waiting for a pretty little songbird since we found that shithole music store. Anyway, we’ll get right the fuck back to that. First, I have a proposition for you. Simon tell you about how we run things here?” at your nod, he continues, “There's a couple of ways to earn your keep here. Now, I know which option I’d like you to choose, but, it’s entirely your decision. Option one: you work for points. I’ll assign you a job here, you work your ass off to earn points which you can then use to buy whatever shit you want.” He pulls a face at that, an obvious attempt at swaying you away from that option.

“Option two: you become a savior. You'll swear your loyalty to me and to protecting and providing for the Sanctuary, through whatever means necessary. You're gonna need some pretty decent sized balls for that too, I can't have fuckers out there who can't stomach the sight of gore and all that other fun stuff.” 

You didn't like the sound of that. While you knew how to survive out there, it didn't mean you enjoyed it and wanted to go back. Whatever means necessary. You'd have to be able to kill whoever Negan asked you to kill, and that was something you were not okay with. Just because the world had gone to shit, it didn't mean your morals had to as well. Of course, if you or others around you were in danger, you'd for sure defend yourself but you were not willing to go out and look for that kind of trouble.

Negan seemed to delight in your concerned expression at option two before moving on.

“And finally option three. This is definitely my favourite.” He grinned that manic grin of his as he rested his forearms on the desk and leaned towards you as you curiously stared back, your interest peaking. “Now, I don't throw this option around lightly so you should be very flattered I’m considering you for this position. Heh.” He licked his lips and your interest suddenly took a nosedive, having a good idea on where this was going. “If you choose option three, then you, my darling, will have the pleasure of becoming my wife. Wife number six to be exact. All your needs will be met; whatever your pretty little heart desires, you shall get. You won't have to work, all you need to do is keep me happy, and in turn, I will make sure you are very satisfied.” He raised his eyebrows and gave you an encouraging look, awaiting your answer.

Now, Negan didn't look like a man who would appreciate being laughed at, so you were doing everything within your power to keep down the giggles threatening to erupt from inside of you. Honestly, what the hell kind of proposition is that?!

It wasn't that you weren't attracted to him, because holy shit, who wouldn't want to get with that Adonis?! No, you had no doubts about him being able to satisfy you, even if he is a cocky arse. It was the simple fact that you were a virgin. It might be silly and too optimistic, especially with the world the way it is, but you wanted your first time to be meaningful and with someone who actually cares about you. Not a presumptuous geezer who's looking to get his dick wet.

Your cheeks are a fierce shade of red as Negan watches you mull over your options with that stupid, self-assured look on his face, winking at you when you make eye contact.

“So, what do ya say, sweetheart? I know I sure as shit want to make you blush for entirely different reasons. I promise, you will not be disappointed. Fuck no.” You could have roasted marshmallows from the heat coming off of your face as he grinned at you, and all you could do is lightly shake your head and huff out a short nervous laugh.

This was not how you expected this meeting to go.

“Um, can I work for points?” cue the dramatic sigh from Negan, “it’s just, I think I’ll be a better fit there.”

“Can't say I’m not disappointed darling, that accent alone is making my dick do somersaults under here, would've loved to discover all the sounds I could get outta you.” He grinned at you as you avoided looking at him, cringing slightly at his vulgar language.

“You should probably get that checked out, I don't think it’s normal for your prick to be practicing gymnastics.”

“Oh ho, my prick can do a lot more than that sweetheart. Would you like a fucking demonstration?”

“What, you gonna do some rhythmic gymnastics for me?”

“I’ll even let you rate me out of ten.”

“You're very confident.”

“I have good reason to be, want me to show you why?”

“Another time maybe.”

“Ah ha! So there's another time?!”

“I think we’re getting a bit off topic. What jobs can I do here?” you both struggle to keep the smiles off of your faces as you look at each other, your face slightly embarrassed and flustered while his is as predatory as ever, with the addition of a light in his eyes you weren't entirely sure was there before.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I can think of a couple of jobs for you to do right here.” You're ashamed to say that you laughed at that, because fucking hell was it corny. “But you're right, getting back on track. What did you do before the dead fucks took over?”

“Nothing helpful really. I just finished college, I think that's high school over here or whatever, and was here for the summer before starting university.”

“Fucking hell you were young. You didn't have any jobs?”

“Not really. I did do some, uh, I guess it’d be assistant work for my dad. He was a self-employed handyman and his English wasn't very good so I did a lot of his paperwork and took his calls for him. That's not really very useful nowadays though.”

“Huh. Secretary. I like the sound of that.” You don't know how to feel when you caught the wicked glint in his eyes as he leaned back in his seat and considered you. He then lifted the walkie sat atop the desk, calling for Simon before standing from his seat and turning his attention back to you. “You're going to report here at eight a.m. sharp, I’ll fill you in on your duties then.”

He’d made his way around his desk by this point and came to stand in front of you, leaning back while simultaneously pushing his hips forwards towards you. You desperately avoided looking at it, not wanting to see if there was any truth to his earlier words. The man apparently has little regard for personal boundaries as he placed his hands on the top of the chair on either side of your head, leaning in close enough to feel his breath ghost over your lips.

“Do not keep me waiting sweetheart. I fucking hate that shit. And I will have no qualms about taking you over my knee if you give me reason.”

The intensity of his tawny eyes drilling into yours were enough to give you chills, and you swallowed visibly, causing his lips to quirk. Negan only broke the eye contact once Simon made his presence known on the other side of the door, and even then he took his time , breathing in deeply before raising from his position as Simon entered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow sweetheart,” he nodded towards Simon, signalling you to leave. He hadn't moved from his place in front of you, meaning you had to squeeze past him in order to get to Simon. You may have avoided seeing the effect you had on him before, but, oh boy, you sure as shit felt it against your hip as you moved past him. Sly fucker. You didn't look at him as you rushed to Simon with wide eyes and exited his office, hearing Negan laugh behind you as he thoroughly enjoyed the sight of you flustered.

“Told you it wouldn't be that bad.” Simon, the knob, grimaced slightly at your entirely unimpressed look and took a leaf out of your book and promptly avoided eye contact with you.

You sighed as you walked beside him to wherever the fuck he was leading you to now. At least the hard part was over. You were now an official resident of the Sanctuary. You were clean, had food in your belly, and would be starting your new job tomorrow. It didn't matter where you'd be sleeping tonight as you knew it would be the most restful sleep you'd have since, quite possibly, this whole apocalypse shit started.

Today turned out not to be so bad after all.

tagging: @neganisking