#but she sure is making sure the last hours of her stay are memorable huh!!!

[lesbienneanarchiste]

I just gotta survive the next 12 hours and then I can have some personal space

[tightjeansjavi]

The Hills Have Eyes | Chapter 3

“It’s Dieter’s world and we’re all just living in it”

A/N: So, before we get into the chapter I just wanted to put a disclaimer out there regarding the nature/genre of this fic.

Dieter is a very fluid individual. He is in an open sexual/romantic relationship (Polyamorous relationship) with his PR wife. Dieter and his wife are allowed to sleep with whoever they please (sometimes sharing partners/hookups) as long as it stays out of the medias eye. Dieter chooses to marry his wife because not only is she in his inner circle, she is just like him and therefore he knows he doesn’t have to hide who he truly is. Dieter and his wife are both bisexual and as someone who only recently came out as Bi this year, there will be moments where Dieter feels shameful of his lifestyle. Particularly because his sex life is extremely vibrant and fluid. That being said, things will get messy and in the eyes of Hollywood, things will ultimately be exposed. Dieter’s lifestyle may be triggering for some,and I will make sure that every chapter has the appropriate warnings listed. This series is stepping out of my comfort zone, but I am very excited to dive back into this story in particular.

~word count: 6.0k~

Pairing | Dieter Bravo x f!reader x OFC! (Aubrey Plaza face claim)

Summary: a glimpse into Dieter’s life 16 years later

Warnings: smut, polyamorous relationship/lifestyle, open relationship, multiple sexual partners, PR marriage, F/M, M/M partners, unprotected PIV, (wrap it kids) Anal sex, oral (m & f receiving) mentions of drinking and smoking weed, brief feelings of sexual shame, semi-public sex, dom/sub vibes (M/M) daddy kink, Dieter might be a bit of a sex addict, mentions of cheating, grudges from the past, old feelings rising, reader has no physical descriptions such as skin color, body-type, Dieters maid is described to be plus sized. There is one mention of Dieter holding her hair but no descriptions of her skin color. Readers nickname is Sweet Tart, No Age Gap, +18 minors dni! Please please let me know if I missed anything!

You wiped the sleeve of your hoodie against your cheek. The fabric was stained with your tears and remnants of makeup. You were sure that you had raccoon eyes from your mascara running down your cheeks, but did you care? No. Not when just a little under an hour ago you found your fiancée (now ex fiancee) balls deep inside your (now ex-best friend) How could they do this to you? How could he do this to you? You had just sent out the fucking wedding invitations last month. The venue was booked, and you already had your dream dress bought and stored safely in your closet.

Now none of that mattered as you nursed a cheap bottle of wine along the steps outside of your home. You didn’t hesitate to dial Dieter’s number in your moment of need. You had memorized it by heart, and despite the years that had passed with no communication, you were able to swallow what was left of your pride and call him. The dial tone rang, and rang, and rang, and just when you were about to hang up, Dieter picked up.

“Sweet Tart? To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your number pop up on my screen?” Dieter spoke softly into the receiver.

“Dee..he—he cheated on me.” You spoke just above a whisper.

“Who did? Your fiancée? What’s the fucker’s name again? Eric? Fucking tool. Always was a prick back in highschool. Sweet Tart, I’m so sorry, my dear. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“He cheated on me with Melanie. I caught them in our bed. I got home from my meeting early and we—we were supposed to go out to dinner. I’m outside on the front steps of my home in San Francisco. That’s where I live now.” You sniffled and took another swig from the bottle of wine clutched in your fist.

“Mel? Wow. Always knew that one was a cunty little slut but I never would have thought that she would stoop that low.” He tsked disapprovingly under his breath. “San Fran huh? Well, why don’t ya leave and come back on over the bridge to Los Angeles. Leave that life behind and let those two assholes have each other. You could pawn the ring and burn all of the fucker’s pictures.”

You were full on sobbing now as the realization crashed down over you that your life had now drastically changed and it was no longer picture perfect on the outside. Tears were blurring your vision as you struggled to regain your shattered composure. “Dieter, I can’t just—I can’t just leave. I love my home and my job and there’s—there’s nothing for me in LA.”

“Oh, Sweet Tart. I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you cry. What do you mean there’s nothing for you in LA? Babe, I’m still here. Well, I live in the Hollywood Hills now but you’re more than welcome to come and visit, ‘kay?”

You pressed the rim of the wine bottle against your temple as you questioned why you called Dieter in the first place. Was it just the wine in your system talking? Did you miss your best friend that terribly, that you had no one else you could possibly call?

“Dieter, I appreciate your offer, but I can’t just leave my fucking life behind like you can.” Your tone was bitter and your words were harsh. You didn’t mean to snap at him, not really. You were just hurt and frustrated and overwhelmed. Everytime you closed your eyes you saw your ex fiancée drilling into your ex best friend in your fucking bed and it was all too fucking much.

“Sweet Tart, why did you just have to go and be so fucking mean, huh? I was just trying to make you feel better. You’re the one that called me. Go sob to someone else if you’re gonna be that way. I thought after 16 years you would have dropped that fucking ridiculous grudge that you’ve been holding against me. Here I thought that maybe my best fucking friend was just calling me because she missed me! Guess not, huh? Guess I was wrong again. I’m sorry that your fiancée cheated on you. He’s a rotten son of a bitch that clearly has no idea what he’s got. I’m even more sorry that your so-called best friend betrayed you like that too. The world fucking sucks sometimes, Sweet Tart. It chews you up and then fucking spits you back out. You’re not the first one to be cheated on like this and you won’t be the last. You wanna wallow away in self pity, and stay in that house and keep working that mediocre job? Be my fucking guest. Don’t call me crying, and then get upset when I tell you how you can fucking fix it.”

Fuck

“Dieter, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, you know that right? I’m just hurt and angry and fucking overwhelmed! I know I shouldn’t have gone and taken that out on you. It’s been 16 years and I have no reason to hold anything against you.”

“No. You meant what you said. C’mon, Sweet Tart. You’re a big girl. Stand behind your fucking words.” The pads of his fingers pressed deeply into his temples as he sighed. He didn’t want to admit that your words really fucking hurt. They sliced right through him and obliterated his already pathetic heart.

“Listen, my offer still stands. I’ll text you my address, and if you want to come and visit, you’re more than welcome to. Just don’t go and leak it anywhere alright? You should maybe go and get a hotel room for the night or something. I wouldn’t want to sleep in my bed after all that but that’s just me. I’ll see how you’re feeling tomorrow morning, Goodnight, Sweet Tart.” Dieter didn’t wait for you to answer. He just went ahead and hung up the phone before tossing it on his towel that was resting on the pool chair.

“Dieter—Dieter?” You finished off the bottle as you struggled to pull yourself up to your feet. You could go and get a hotel room with no problem. Instead you found yourself going back inside of your home and plopping face first onto the couch.

Dieter reached for the abandoned joint that was left simmering on the edge of the heart shaped ashtray that had a Chanel logo in the middle of the vessel. He plucked the joint up between two fingers before placing it between his lips. His eyes fluttered shut as he took a long deep drag of the herb, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling it upwards towards the star painted sky. He reached for his phone and unlocked it with a couple taps on the screen. He opened the iMessage app and scrolled till he found your name. A moment of hesitation washed over him as he typed in his address. The hesitation he felt was soon erased as he hit send before tossing his phone to the side once more.

“She probably won’t come to see you. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Dieter spoke to himself through the dry California air. “On the off chance that she does show up..what am I to do then?”

He scratched at his patchy beard with a huff. The joint he was presently smoking was almost completely gone as he tapped a blur of ash into the tray. “Help her get over her stupid fucking excuse of an ex-fiancée.” He muttered as if the answer was painfully obvious.

Your phone thrummed along the coffee table, and even in your grief and drunken stupor, you knew it was your Dieter.

When you awoke the following morning you could barely open your eyes due to the residue of mascara causing your lashes to stick together as if there was glue on them.

You let out a frustrated huff and rubbed your knuckles against your eyes to loosen up the clumps of mascara.

Then, that dull pulsing pain in your skull began to breach the surface. Fucking cheap-ass-wine hangover.

You struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position, squeezing your eyes shut when you felt a particular sharp pain. “I am never drinking again.” Something that every adult has probably said a handful of times in their life.

Once your eyes were well adjusted to the early morning light trickling in through the curtains, you forced yourself to get up, snatching your phone up from the coffee table as you headed straight for the kitchen; coffee was needed if you were to make it through the day.

While your coffee was brewing and you were greeted with the familiar drips falling into the coffee pot, you remembered your conversation with Dieter last night, and the things that you both said. Holding a grudge against your best friend..was not a smart move, but it wasn’t like you meant it. Not really, you were just frustrated and hurt, and people say shit they don’t mean when they’re upset all the time.

Your phone buzzing in your palm tore you away from your thoughts and then you saw Dieter's name flash on your screen, and your heart skipped a beat.

Hey, Sweet Tart, I apologize if I was mean to you last night. I know you’re just pissed off at that stupid fucking ex fiancée of yours. Anyway, let me know if you’re planning on visiting soon. I’d love to see you. Gets pretty lonely up here in the hills. It would be nice to see a familiar face.

Dieter sent you the text message after he had fixed himself a screwdriver cocktail with extra vodka to get his day started off on a happy note. Beverly was out of the country, filming for her next project, so Dieter was left alone to his own devices, naturally.

And what’s an actor, such as himself, to do in such an obnoxiously massive house tucked away from the public eye in the Hollywood Hills? Prance around in nothing but a silk robe, and stupidly expensive Chanel sunglasses. His music of choice for the morning was Queen’s, I Want To Break Free.

He had a perfectly rolled joint tucked behind his ear in a light pink rolling paper. He brought the rim of his glass to his lips and took a sweet indulgent sip, before he spun around on his heel to the rhythm of the music. His softened cock swung freely between his soft thighs.

Dieter was never shy of his sexual appetites, and those he wished to partake in them with. He’d never actually put a label on himself, but if the question ever arose, he’d proclaim himself a proud bisexual.

“It’s gonna be a good day, Bravo.” He hummed to himself and reached up for the joint tucked behind his ear. “It’s gonna be a good day indeed.” He reached for his lighter across the expanse of the counter top. He sparked the joint up, taking a long drag with his eyes softly shut in a relaxed blissful state.

They snapped open at the pleasant chime of heels clacking along polished tile. His maid, who he had been fucking with and without Beverly in the mix, was leaned against the entry way of the kitchen, clad in nothing but a garter belt and Louboutin heels that he purchased for her.

“Good morning , Mr. Bravo.” She purred through her pretty painted lips.

He drank in her attire (or lack thereof), her supple, luscious curves with a lazy grin plastered on his scruffy face. The joint dipped down between his lips while he admired her a bit longer, eyes raking down her body in a lustful gaze.

“Good Morning to me indeed, wowza.” He whistled. “Can I get a spin from ya, baby doll? Are those the pretty heels I got you? You’re absolutely rocking them, my dear.”

She giggled, soft and sweet. The heat rose to her cheeks from the compliment he bestowed upon her. “They are, sir. I think they’re quite pretty too.” She gave him a little spin, twirling around like a ballerina.

He pushed himself off the side of the counter in a very Dieter like fashion. His cock had begun to harden, coming to life at the sight of the beauty that confidently stood before him. “Beautiful.” He whispered, “just absolutely breathtaking.” He swooped in, hand finding purchase around the thick flesh of the curves on her ass. “I have to go for my morning swim, but after…” he trailed off with that knowing glint in his eye.

She dragged a perfectly manicured nail down the clavicle of his chest, swirling it around one of his nipples, the right one that was pierced with a shiny nipple ring through the middle. Her lips pouted like two rose petals, lashes fluttering in a flirtatious manner, “are you sure that your swim can’t wait a little longer, Dieter?” She cooed softly.

With his hand still clasped around his glass of vodka with a sprinkle of orange juice, he pressed his thumb down against her pretty pouty lips. The joint still pursed between his lips, blazing red-hot. “I’m sorry, pet. I promised Jackie I’d start every morning off with a relaxing swim. It keeps me from wanting to put the ‘bad’ stuff into my body.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Your agent is no fun, Dieter. I think she could use a little to loosen up..” she trailed off, letting her nail drag lower, and lower till she swirled it through the coarse, dark hair that sprouted up from beneath his pubic bone. His neglected cock twitched with that aching need, but he was trying to be good.

“She really could loosen up, doll face. I agree. But..I can’t go back on my promises.” He sighed rather dramatically while he kneaded the flesh of her ass between his thick ring clad fingers that glimmered under the patch of sunlight trickling in through the skylight on the high ceilings above their heads.

Just when his pretty faced maid was about to drag her nail across the weeping head of his cock, he declined because he really was trying to be good. “I promise, after my swim, I’m all yours.”

Dieters routine swim didn’t last as long as he planned it too..but to be fair, it was hard to turn down good pussy that was practically being served to him on a fucking silver platter. His naughty maid had laid herself out on one of his pool chairs, thighs spread wide for his view while her painted nails played with herself, dragging through the mess of arousal that leaked out for him. She kept her red bottoms on because she really did feel pretty in them, and she was grateful that Dieter was the type of celebrity to share his wealth with everyone.

Dieter found himself fixated on the spot between her thighs, glistening, pulsing under the rising hot California sun. He licked his lips, pupils darkening while he pulled himself out of the pool.

He feasted upon her sweetness, her taste. He lapped between her folds, dragging his tongue across her needy clit in long, languid strokes that had her throwing her head back in ecstasy. His hands were anchored under the thick flesh of her ass, keeping her spread wide open just how he liked it. The tip of his tongue swirled in a figure 8 motion that had his naughty maid crying out his name in no-time

Dieter. Dieter. Dieter.

His first meal of the day was one that left him feeling full, and satisfied. The scruff of his beard glistened in her release when he came up for a quick breath of air. “Naughty thing you are, doll face. Spread wide open for all of the Hollywood Hills to see?” He gave her left ass cheek a playful swat before his fingers dug in once more. “Naughty.” Another swat, a playful nip to her inner thigh. “Naughty.” Devious eyes peering up between her silken cunt, “Naughty” a whisper of warm breath that kissed her skin the way that rain does.

He was about to dive right back in, when his phone blared loudly on the poolside table. He grumbled from the disturbance before he pressed a chaste kit to her swollen clit. He sat up with a huff, running his fingers through his damp head of curls, and reached over her to grab his phone.

When he saw your name light up on his screen, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, or the way his heart did a fucking somersault in his ribcage. “Sweet Tart is calling, you gonna be a good naughty maid and suck my cock while I take this call?” His brow raised suggestively in her direction, cinnamon brown eyes flickering with unabashed mischief.

His naughty maid was already sitting up on her knees along the pool chair, crawling towards him while he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. He twisted his wrist in a languid, corkscrew motion, while his unoccupied hand swiped across the call button on the screen.

“Sweet Tart, how are you feeling this morning? I gotta say, I’m surprised that you called.” A hum nearly crawled up the back of his throat when his maid wrapped her pretty painted lips around the head of his cock. He threaded his fingers through her hair, gently holding her head. His ring clad fingers glistened under the blazing sun when she began to slowly bob her head.

“Hey, Dee. I feel like shit.” You laughed softly through the receiver, biting down gently on the tip of your thumbnail. “I’m sorry..for how I treated you last night.”

Dieter allowed himself to take one shuddered breath when he felt the tip of his cock kiss the back of his maids throat. The little gagging noise she made sent his eyes rolling back into his skull. “How come you feel like shit, Sweet Tart? It's okay. I know you didn’t mean what you said. You were just upset, and understandably so.” He glanced down at his maid, and in a praising motion he mouthed, good girl.

“Too much shitty cheap wine. My head is pounding out of my skull right now. Nothing a cup of coffee can’t fix, huh?” You sighed, leaning back against the countertop. “I know, Dee, but you’re my best friend. I shouldn’t hold a grudge against you just because we’ve barely spoken in sixteen years. It’s not fair to you.”

“Well, that’ll do it. But you know the best cure to a hangover is to keep drinking, Sweet Tart. You really don’t have to apologize, okay? All is forgiven. I’m not going to hold a grudge either.” He paused, thinking over his next choice of words carefully. “Have you given any more thought to my offer? It still stands, and I’d love to see my best friend again.”

He took his lower lip harshly between his teeth when he felt his cock twitch in his maids mouth. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to hold back a groan from bubbling over. He made the executive decision to pull himself out of her wet mouth with a soft pop. He used his chin to press his phone against his shoulder so that his hands were free to mold his naughty, and very eager maid in the position he wished to fuck her in. His hands wrapped around the outside of her thighs as he gradually pressed her knees towards her chest.

“I won’t apologize for it again, Dee. I promise. I thought about your offer, and I’ll gladly take you up on it. I have some work I need to finish up..but I was thinking of driving over Friday? Does that work with your schedule?”

Dieter dragged the tip of his cock through her slick folds, rolling his hips forward slowly, catching her clit along the head of his cock. “Oh, Friday sounds perfect to me, Sweet Tart. I can always send a car over for ya if you’d like?”

An extremely light hiss slipped past his parted lips when he finally began to sink into her warmth, loving the way that her pussy pulled him in, inch by inch till he was bottomed out, hips pressed tight to her ass.

That’s it, beautiful. He mouthed to her.

“Oh, that’s okay, Dee. I don’t mind driving myself. But that’s kind of you to offer.”

Dieter hummed through the receiver while he dropped his hand to rest along her hip, ogling at the where their bodies were connected. He drooled a glob of saliva right between the space and used the pad of his thumb to rub it against her clit in tight circles.

“Listen, Sweet Tart, I’d love to keep chatting, but I got a call on the other line. I can’t wait to see you Friday. Let me know when you’re on your way, ‘kay?” His voice was raspier now, deeper, and even a little strained. He thrusted his hips forward, falling into a steady rhythm that had both him and his maid feeling satisfied for the moment.

“I understand, Dee. I should probably take a shower and make myself look presentable. Anyway, I can’t wait to see you as well. I hope you have a good rest of your morning.”

He suppressed a growl, doing everything he possibly could do to not give himself away. “You too, Sweet Tart.” He ended the call in a haste, tossing it to the side, not caring if it fell to the ground and shattered. He grabbed her wrists in his freehand, pressing them above her head in one swooping motion.

“Who’s Sweet Tart?” His maid couldn’t help but ask. It was an innocent question of course. There was no harm behind it. She met his thrusts midway with a gentle roll of her hips into his. A free falling moan slipped past her painted lips. Dieter swallowed it, tongue and all while he pried her thighs apart so he could squeeze himself between them.

“My best friend.” He mumbled into her lips. He continued to strum her clit with his thumb, picking up the pace with his calculated strokes. “She’s coming to visit me this weekend. Haven’t seen her in sixteen years.” He grunted low and deep, dropping his forehead to hers.

She whined beneath him, wrapping her ankles around his hips to draw him in even deeper. “Fuck, Dieter. Your cock is so—”

“Big?” He chuckled in a cocky tone, pulling his hips back slightly before slamming them forward. “I know it is, doll face.” “And your pussy? It’s fucking tight. Silky, warm. So glad you kept the heels on, baby. Y’look so goddamn pretty in them.”

And then, of course when they were both on the edge of an impending orgasm, his goddamn phone rang again, but this time it was Jackie, and she’d have his head if he ignored her call.

Frustrated, and unintentionally edging himself, Dieter reached for his phone, answering it with an anger grumbled breath. “For fuck sakes, Jackie. I’M BUSY!” He snapped through the receiver, not caring if he would get chastised for it. He hated being interrupted when he was on the verge of coming.

“Well, good morning to you too, Bravo.” She snickered on the other end.

“This better be fucking important, or I swear to god.” In the same breath he whispered to his maid to get on all fours. He slipped out of her wet, hugging warmth, impatiently.

“Just wanted to check in and make sure you got your laps in today. Oh, and don’t forget, you have dinner with Nicolas Cage tonight at seven. Do not be late.”

Dieter fought the urge to roll his eyes because goddammit, Jackie, this couldn’t wait??

“Yeah, yeah. I got my laps in alright. And I was absolutely enjoying the fabulous sunshine, and being balls deep inside of my gorgeous maid when you oh so rudely interrupted us!” His tone was clipped and cold. He gave his cock a few quick tugs before he lined himself at her entrance, notching his tip between the seam of her pussy and slipped right back in. He gave her ass a firm smack!

“Dear god, Dieter. That is information that I definitely did not need to know.” He could already picture Jackie rubbing her temples, and shaking her head.

“Yeah?” He grunted deeply, and placed his hand against the curve of her spine, pressing her down further into the pool chair. She arched her back towards him, letting out a string of profanities when the tip of his cock reached that spongy spot inside of her deliciously. “Well, maybe don’t call me before nine a.m next time!”

“Dieter..it’s nine-thirty right now.”

He threw his head back frustratingly. “Oh my fucking god! Jackie, can I just call you back?!”

“Sure, Mr. Grumpy pants.”

He muttered a fuck off before he tossed his phone completely out of reach. It miraculously landed on one of the nearby pool chairs. (He couldn’t fathom having to get another phone)

He was kind enough to come on his maids back, painting her in hot ropes of his release. He tasted himself along her skin, dragging his tongue slowly through his come. He wrapped his fist through her hair, gently tugging her head back so that he could give her a proper kiss, and so she could have a taste as well.

He slipped out of her slowly, feeling somewhat satisfied, but his agent calling him really soured his mood. It was written all over his face.

“Dieter?..” She asked him while he was using a pool towel to wipe his come from her back, and between her thighs.

“Yeah, doll face?” He met her gaze, pursing his lips, feeling his shoulders sink forwards because he knew he didn’t do his job to the best of his abilities.

“Do you think you can?…” she trailed off.

“Of course I can. Hold that thought, ‘kay? Let me go grab something inside.”

He pressed a light kiss to her hip bone before he pushed himself up from the chair and sauntered back inside. He stopped in the kitchen for a couple quick puffs, before he continued on his mission. He felt slightly embarrassed, and a little angry that he didn’t do enough to make her come. He always had been a huge people pleaser, especially when it came to pleasing his sexual lovers.

He shook that gnawing feeling of shame off his shoulders for now. He dug out his box of sex toys from their home in his walk-in closet; There wasn’t anything that his Hitachi wand couldn’t do.

And so he fucked her again, this time with no interruptions, and with the wand placed directly against her clit, it sent rapid vibrations through both of their connected bodies. It was a bonus that he got a second orgasm out of it as well.

In no time they were both a sweaty mess of tangled limbs with Dieter’s scruffy cheek pressed comfortably against one of her pillowy tits, lashes shut, breaths coming out in hot, quick pants. He pressed a chaste kiss to her clavicle before he pushed himself up on his elbows. “Let’s get ourselves cleaned up, shall we, doll face? Then I’m gonna cook us some well deserved breakfast.” He hummed.

She nodded blissfully, tangling her fingers through his messy head of curls. “Clean me up with your tongue, please?” She gestured with a cocked brow to the sticky, drooling mess between their still connected bodies.

With a lopsided, sex stained grin, the actor nodded with absolute enthusiasm. In a haste he slipped out with a soft, wet, squelching noise. The wand was tossed to the side, and his tongue delved between the seam of her pussy once more.

He loved to please.

It was approximately two hours before Dieter would be meeting Nicolas Cage for dinner, and the nerves were already beginning to tingle and bubble. The itch was building, crawling up his spine, but he was trying to be good. So, he’d have to relieve his impending anxiety in another way.

Dieter’s Dom frequently visited on the occasions when the actor needed him most. And right now, Dieter needed to clear his head desperately.

Dieter was in the shower, letting the scalding spray of water ease the strain in his back when the bathroom door creaked open. His eyes were closed as he felt the blood begin to rush to his cock in anticipated excitement. As much as the actor loved to fuck, he equally enjoyed being fucked as well.

His hand dropped down between his thighs, thumb stroking across the head of his cock. He was already imagining himself being split in two, right down the middle, while being called a good boy, when he heard the clink of a belt, and fabric dropping to the tile floor with a soft thump.

He rolled his shoulders forward, taking his lower lip between his teeth when he felt the presence of a rock solid body behind him, a strong arm wrapped around his middle yanking him back swiftly. His head lolled to the side, dropping against the man’s shoulder. He pumped his fist around himself a few times, feeling the heavy press of the man’s cock against his ass.

“Hey, pretty boy. Y’called?” The man’s voice was deep, lax, rumbling and low against the shell of Dieter’s ear.

“Mhmmm. Hiii.” Dieter whimpered with his lower lip still trapped between his teeth. His back arched, molding into the man’s hard chest and taut stomach. “We gotta make this quick, ‘kay? Got an important dinner tonight with Nicolas Cage.”

“Mmm.” The man hummed against Dieter’s ear, nipping at the lobe with his teeth. “That’s nice, baby boy. We can make this fast, sure. How about you bend over a lil’ for me and spread your cheeks.” He commanded firmly.

Dieter's cock twitched pathetically in his hand from just the man’s voice alone. “Mhmm, daddy. That’s the one. It’s a big deal for my career. M’so excited..” he trailed off while he released his cock from his grasp. He slowly bent over, reaching behind him and placed his ring clad fingers on both cheeks, spreading them apart. He could feel the man’s hot gaze drifting downwards.

“Always such a good little cockslut for me, baby boy. You’ll have to tell me all about your little dinner with Nicolas Cage next time..” he purred, placing his hand against the actor's lower back, pressing him forward while he grabbed a hold of his own cock in his fist. He gave his wrist a few twists, spitting right on the head of his cock before he notched the head between Dieter’s spread cheeks. “Y’ready for me, baby boy?”

“Mhmm. Please fuck me, daddy.” He dropped one hand from his ass to steady himself against the cool tile. He pressed himself back against the man’s cock, inch by inch till he was fully seated on it.

An exchange of deep grunts followed by the man’s hand making harsh contact with Dieter’s left ass cheek. He lurched forward, both from the fullness he was feeling, and the sting along his skin. “Fuck yourself on it, baby boy. Let’s see you do all the work yourself.” He growled.

Dieter remembers the first time he gave into his sexual desires with another man. The first time he sucked a cock with tears rolling down his cheeks, and drool dripping down his chin while he sat prettily on his knees. He remembers the first time he kissed a man, dragged his fingers through a man’s happy trail, left lovebites, and felt the pleasant scrape of another man’s beard against his thighs. He remembers the first time he felt the stretch of a cock, the slap of a man’s balls against him, and he loved it.

“Y—yes, daddy. Whatever you want.” He stuttered out, knees nearly buckling as he rolled his hips and ass back in a circular motion, fucking himself along the man’s cock like the good boy he was.

“That’s it, good boy. Such a good boy fucking yourself on my cock.” He praised the actor while he kneaded the soft flesh of his ass between his thick fingers. He met his thrusts halfway.

“Daddy, I—I—need more. Please. Please.” Dieter begged.

“What do you need, baby boy? Need me to take over already?” The man chuckled, giving his ass another firm smack.

“Mhmmm. Please, daddy. I need you to split me in half, please. Fuck me stupid, big boy.”

That’s all it took for his Dom to give in, and Dieter was seeing stars dancing behind his closed eyes as his Dom yanked him back up against his chest, arm possessively wrapped around his middle, and his hand splayed against Dieter’s throat. He fucked into him at a punishing pace, wet skin slapping against wet skin.

“Fuck, daddy! Y—yess! S—so good to me! Hnngh. Thank you! Thank you.” He cried out, hand wrapping around the base of his cock once more. “Tell me you love me, daddy. Tell your baby boy that you love him.” He groaned deeply, feeling himself already begin to fall apart.

“Daddy loves you, baby boy. He loves you, and this tight fucking ass.” The man grunted against his ear, hot breath kissing his skin.

It didn’t take long for Dieter to hit his crashing orgasm, fist pumping wildly around his cock as he coated the ridiculously expensive shower wall in thick, hot ropes of his come.

On the drive over to the restaurant that Dieter would be meeting Nicolas Cage at, he felt relaxed, confident, and in character. Dieter would always pretend to be anyone but himself when he’d meet new actors, business partners, and the likes of Hollywood. It was as if he had a switch that he could just turn on at random, and when needed. Landing this role would be a huge deal for the actor, and there was no room for him to screw the pooch on this one.

I’m Dieter Fucking Bravo, and I can do anything.

This was his ritual mantra.

He remembered then that he needed to call Jackie, and let her know that he was on his way, and that he needed her to clear his schedule for the upcoming weekend.

“Are we less grumpy than we were this morning, Dieter?” She asked through the smooth sounding speakers in his car.

Dieter thrummed his fingers against the sleek leather steering wheel of his jet black, Aston Martin DB5.

His car was his baby, and his first official ‘big boy’ purchase after becoming an actor.

“Not an ounce of grumpiness in me, Jackie. I’m on my way to the restaurant as we speak.” He said smoothly.

“Oh, good! I spoke with Nick’s agent, and I don’t want you to start celebrating yet, but there is a high chance that you’re going to be co-starring in his next film.”

Dieter perked up from her words, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to spill over his face. “Really? You’re serious about that?”

“As serious as they come, kid. But hey, don’t blow this one alright? I think you’re the perfect fit for the role, personally.”

“Pssh. Me? Blow this? Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen! Especially in front of Nicolas Cage! I’d rather step on a nail, or remain abstinent for the rest of my life.” He chuckled.

“Oh, that’s a good one, Bravo. I almost believed you there.” She laughed, and he could picture her shaking her head.

“Jackie? Do you think you can do me a favor and clear my schedule for me this weekend? I have important plans that I can’t miss.”

“Oh? And what is the occasion for these important plans of yours?”

Dieter scratched at the patches between his beard as he rolled his shoulders forward before he leaned back against the crisp leather seat. A smile tugged across his lips, and his heart began to race at the thought of you, his Sweet Tart coming to see him.

“Sweet Tart is coming into town Friday. We're finally gonna reunite after all of these years apart.”

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[hurlingsupport]

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (Gender Neutral Reader Insert)

Chapter 8: Last Day of Camp

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The tapping of your shoes seems louder than usual as you speed down the stadium stairs, an automated voice compelling everyone to run down the stadium stairs to group back up.

“Attention. All park-goers must report to the South Ferry Dock for immediate evacuation. Last ferry departs in two hours.”

“That’s it? No explanations? That’s all we get?” Brooklynn complains ahead of you, her and Sammy coming to a stop as they huff. Darius jumps over the stair railing to stand in front of the two girls. 

“We have to move. The only way we’re gonna make it is if we run.” Darius says, clapping his hands together urgently. 

You hop over the railing, landing clumsily behind Brooklynn. You quickly fix your stance as the girl spares a glance behind her in confusion.

“Um… are we sure that’s the best way to get there?” Sammy asks, pointedly looking behind her at Yasmina. The usually athletic girl grunts with each step, limping towards the group. 

“I’m fine. I’ve competed with a torn ACL.” She speaks confidently, placing her hands on her hips as she leans on her better leg. “You should be way more worried about Ben and Bumpy.” 

Following her pointed thumb, sure enough, Ben and Bumpy run in your guy’s direction. And despite their rapid steps, their speed is… well, let’s just say that Yasmina was definitely right about where your worries should be. How did he linger behind for so long?

Skidding to a stop, Ben pulls a map from his fanny pack as he heaves. “What we should all be worried about is catching a boat out of here and, naturally, we have a problem.” He nods his head rapidly, placing the map on the bleachers.

“We’re here.” He points at the middle of the map before moving his finger down to the very bottom of the island. “The docks are on the southern tip of the island.”

You all crowd around him, watching silently as he points back and forth.

“Even if we ran at peak Yasmina speed, there’s no way we’d make the last boat out.”

“You don’t know that,” Sammy speaks defensively. 

Ben scoffs, looking up at her confidently. “Yes, I do. I memorized the evacuation plan on the ferry ride over.”

You all groan in a mix of disbelief and frustration at Ben’s words.

“Okay, so we need another way. Um…” Darius stands on top of the bleacher seat he had been sitting on, spinning his head in all directions. Then, he jumps down and points at the kayaks you all had abandoned. “Can we use those somehow? Or send someone to tell the ferry people to wait? Or…” 

“Or make a few jetpacks real quick? Oh! We should befriend a unicorn!” Brooklynn mocks, her head hanging low. “Face it. It’s hopeless.” 

“We will be arriving at Main Street, your destination for fine dining—”

“Is that…?” 

“—and shopping at Jurassic World.” 

The automated voice drew you all to the edge of the stadium railing, watching as a train passed not too far from the Lagoon.

“Followed by stops at the Jurassic World Lagoon and the South Ferry Dock.” 

“Monorail, what-what!” Kenji throws his hands in the air as he yells.

“Mm, nicely played, universe.” Brooklynn sighs, hands on her hips.

“Hurry!” Darius runs in the direction the monorail is heading, the rest of you following excitedly.

Your bunch runs up the stadium stairs, Darius staying back to make sure no one gets left behind. A hard feat considering how slow Ben and Bumpy are, not to mention Yasmina’s injured leg.

You linger, waiting for one of them to get a move on, but Ben only drags it on.

“It’s nice havin’ some company back here besides…” He pauses his sentence to catch his breath, and you roll your eyes at the mention of your name.

“I’m fine.” Yasmina insists, increasing her pace.

With Yasmina’s quickened pace, Darius runs ahead, catching up with the others. You follow Yasmina, shoes scraping the ground each time Bumpy would bump into you. The name Ben gave her is really coming into play, huh?

When the four of you reach the top of the stairs, you spot Brooklynn, Kenji, and Sammy sitting against the wall merging the stadium to the elevated ground of Main Street.

You’re not too sure what lies beyond the stadium wall, but a low growl is enough of an answer for you. Darius pokes his head out from the wall, looking across the street. 

A few more growls and thuds, then he’s turning to the rest of you and doing a come-hither motion with his hands. Ignoring the group’s hesitancy, Darius sprints over to the stairs leading up to the monorail. He crouches behind the solid stair railing, his face twisting in disbelief when he sees that none of you had moved from your spots.

He does another motion with his hands, urging you all forward with a grimace. Kenji shakes his head with wide eyes, but ultimately follows Brooklynn and Sammy when they make a move towards the stairs.

With the three moving forward, Yasmina moves closer to the edge of the wall, you and Ben following her lead. A snarl from the dinosaur has the three running back behind the stadium wall once again.

A loud thud rings out across the concrete street, a chilling silence ensuing. Heavy footsteps come closer to your group, accompanied by husky breathing coming from the dinosaur you hadn’t been able to get a good look at from behind the wall. Its breathing sounded similar to that of a person with mucus stuck in the back of their throat. It was pretty gross. 

You push yourself up against the wall, as if trying to blend into it. The footsteps come closer, and you wince, squeezing your eyes shut in fear.

Your eyes snap open when something clatters opposite to you all, the mystery dinosaur finally coming into sight as it follows the sound. It was the horned dinosaur you came to know as Toro.

Darius reappears, this time on the other side of the stairs. He beckons you all towards him a final time, and your group runs to the stairs as fast as possible.

You never thought you’d crawl up a staircase again after elementary, but here you are, doing exactly that. Bumpy runs ahead without a care in the world, arriving at the top before anyone else. Kenji gets there second, almost screaming in celebration when the monorail arrives. 

Brooklynn slaps her hand over his mouth, glaring at him for nearly blowing everyone’s cover. However, her efforts instantly go to waste as the monorail doors open, an automated voice echoing across the otherwise silent streets.

“Welcome to Jurassic World Lagoon. Next stop, Ferry Landing!” 

Toro whips its head in the monorail’s direction, roaring painfully loud as it spots your bunch. It’s anxiety inducing, especially since the rest of you were still climbing up the stairs. 

“Run!” Darius yells, and you all follow his orders without complaint. 

You only look back when you hear the Carnotaurus snapping its jaws, watching as it just barely misses Ben each time. That boy keeps surprising you with how slow he can be. 

Though it’s not just Ben who’s still lingering on the staircase, Yasmina hadn’t got to the monorail yet, either. Toro follows the two earnestly, even when the carnivore slips because of the uneven footing. The weight of Toro shakes the staircase, the tremors knocking the lingering few off their feet. 

Toro pushes against the stairs, biting at Yasmina’s feet no matter how much she pushes herself backwards. Ben watches helplessly, as do you. You should help, do something, anything. But what good would that do you?

“Ben! Out of the way!” 

Your gaze falls to Darius as he runs back down the stairs, pulling the girl away from Toro just as the carnivore drives his jaws into what would’ve been Yasmina. 

You watch with furrowed brows, utterly confused with both Darius and yourself. Why did he do that? Why didn’t you do that? 

You push that nagging voice into the back of your mind, focusing on pulling Ben up from the top of the stairs. Ben pays no mind to you. His gaze stuck on Darius as he helps Yasmina up the stairs. 

With a huff, you grip the collar of his shirt and pull him into the monorail. The Carnotaurus roars and screeches behind you all, wrecking everything around it to get to your group. One resounding thud later, and the four of you are crashing into the monorail. 

“Doors closing.” 

In an instant, the monorail is on its way to the ferry, leaving Toro in its dust. 

It’s not long until the silence between you all is broken by Kenji, who goes on a rant of which you disregard completely. 

Instead, you release your grasp on Ben and make your way to one of the train seats. You sit next to a window, watching through the reflection as Ben follows and sits right next to you without a word.

“Guys, we did it. We’re going home.” Darius grins.

It’s quiet for a moment, but it only takes a second for your group to be all smiles.

“Whoo-hoo!” Sammy screams suddenly. 

Ben yelps, head hitting your shoulder at the unexpected sound. You push his face away with a forceful hand.

“Yeah! Whoo!” Darius yells, standing on top of the seat he had been sitting on. 

Excited yells spread like a virus, everyone jumping merrily at the successful escape. Even Ben relaxes eventually, throwing his limbs in the air as he shouts. You pump a fist in the air, both to show your excitement and to push Ben’s arm off you subtly. 

“This calls for a celebration!” Brooklynn laughs, scooting into the seat in front of you and Ben. 

“I might be able to help with that.” The boy in question grinned, unzipping his fanny pack. “Stashed a few treats for the road.” 

Out he pulls a bunch of snack bars and juice boxes, spreading them out in each hand like they were dollar bills. Words that just barely resemble ‘thank you’ come from your fellow campers before only two snack bars remain. 

Ben smiles before turning to you. He nudges your shoulder with the one of the last bars, and though you want to decline, the immediate retching erupting from everyone else has you curious. 

So you take it out of his hands, unwrap it, and take a bite. You don’t even get to chew before the taste hits you full force. Instead of the expected chocolate taste, it had a rather nutty flavor, with only a twinge of sweetness. Overall, it didn’t taste very good, but it wasn’t horrible.

“Ben, someone stole your candy bars and put dirt in ‘em,” Sammy complains. 

You just about choke on your snack bar from her bluntness.

Ben ignores the insult and explains. “They’re carob bars. They pair perfectly with—” 

“Carob juice. Awesome.” Darius struggles to keep the smile on his face. His grip on the juice box he had been holding loosened.

“Carob is nature’s chocolate. Just as delicious with none of the sugar or caffeine.” His gaze falls onto you, who munches on the bar regardless of the taste. “See? They get it!”

You huff, taking another bite of the carob bar. It’s not like it tasted good or anything. You were just hungry. That’s all. 

“What’s wrong with sugar and caffeine? First thing I’m gonna do when I get home is hug my expresso machine.” Brooklynn hugs the back of her seat, showing just how truthful she was being. “I may never let go.” 

“You know…” Kenji clears his throat as he hangs off the grab handles of the monorail. “I’ve often described myself as a tall, hot drink.” 

Kenji’s words are met with scoffs and words of disgust.

“You could never be coffee.” Brooklynn glares.

Kenji casts his gaze to the ground, grumbling, “I could be coffee…”

“I cannot wait to be home.” Yasmina slides in. “Once my ankle’s better, it’s back to training. And I guess finding a new corporate sponsor, since mine was Jurassic World. But you know…” 

“It’s gonna be weird for things to be normal again. Like, are video games gonna seem boring now?” Darius chuckles, meeting eyes with Kenji as they share laughs. “How about you? What’s the first thing you’ll do when you get home?” 

“It depends on which wing of our mansion you’re talking about. East wing is usually off limits, but Dad and Candy are away on business, so I guess I’ll go downstairs to our bowling alley.” He smirks, but then his expression turns almost solemn. “Staff always lets me win. Life of a VIP.” 

Lightening the mood after it had suddenly turned dark, Sammy leans over you and Ben’s seats. “So, what have you missed, Ben?” 

“Oh! Let me guess,” Kenji cuts in. “You can’t wait to get home to your closet of dork pouches.” 

Ben ignores the snickers coming from the rest of the group. “Ha, ha. Very funny,” he huffs.

“Seriously, Ben, you’ve had juice boxes for days!” Darius exaggerates. “How much stuff can you fit in that thing?”

“One, lots, and two, obviously the first thing I’m gonna do when I get back is restock it.” He laughs, prompting a fit a laughter to take hold of the group.

Kenji slaps his knee, still chuckling as he walks towards the end of the train cart you all sat in. He grabs a flashlight from a full rack of identical ones. 

“Check it out.” He grins, switching the flashlight on and whipping it around while imitating lightsaber noises. Having enough, he flips it in the air. “I finally found the first thing in Jurassic World that works!” 

The flashlight clatters to the ground as it misses his hand completely. He spares a glance at everyone, smile still frozen on his face before he quickly picks it off the ground. Clicking it on, the light still shines just as bright as it had before.

“Still works.” He chuckles.

“I still can’t believe how much went wrong.” Brooklynn giggles, leaning against the back of her seat. “Like that time we almost got eaten?” 

“Which time?” Yasmina’s face twists in shock before covering it in her hands. “How was there more than one time?” 

“Let’s all raise our carob juice. A toast!” Darius beams. “To not getting eaten!” 

“To not getting eaten!”

Everyone sips their straws. Groans and gags follow soon after. Obviously the carob juice didn’t taste any better than the carob bars.

“To no more running away!” Brooklynn shouts as she stands, raising her juice box above her head. 

“To no more running away!” 

This time, no one drinks the juice except for Ben, having learned their lesson. Sammy pours hers out on the floor, letting Bumpy drink it.

“To the return of a low-level gnawing dread rather than an all-encompassing impending doom!” Ben yells, carob juice raised high. 

“Why not!” 

“To what Ben said!” 

“Bad doom versus normal doom!” 

“I got one.” Sammy smiles, but before she can say anything else, some sort of sound you can only describe as a ‘boom’ rings out across the entire forest. It shakes the train, and you all fall back into your seats. 

“What was that?” Sammy asks shakingly. 

“It sounded like an explosion.” Yasmina answers. 

“Ugh, not again!” Brooklynn whines. 

“I don’t see anything.” Kenji mutters.

“I don’t think it was near us.” Darius asserts. “We’re okay. We’re still okay.” 

Despite his reassurance, the mood isn’t as cheerful as it was before.

“I know camp wasn’t what we thought it was gonna be,” Sammy starts. “But after everything we went through, at least we’re leavin’ this place with six new friends!” 

She stands from her seat, holding her carob juice in the air as she shouts, “To the six of us being best friends for life! Clink!” 

Silence is all that follows. Everyone either outright ignores her or pretends that they hadn’t heard her. You cross your arms and look out of the window.

“Wait, do you guys not see us as friends?” 

“I mean…” Brooklynn sighs. “Doesn’t it usually take more than a few days to become friends with someone?” 

“We were thrown together at random. We have nothing in common.” Yasmina agrees with a deadpan stare. 

Everyone else averts their eyes, yet they don’t correct the two girls. 

“That’s not true!” Sammy insists. “We’ve been through more together than most friends have in a lifetime.”

“And now that it’s over, what are the odds that we’ll ever see each other again?” Ben mutters.

You purse your lips. They were all right. You guys were an odd group. You doubt any of them would want anything to do with one another after this. 

No one else speaks for a while after that.

“Coming up on the right, you’ll see our world-renowned 18-holed, dinosaur-themed golf course. It’s one of the many wonders that makes this park so very Jurassic.” 

“What does that even mean?” Brooklynn huffs, a smile growing on her face.

“I thought I knew,” Darius murmurs. “My whole life, I had this idea of Jurassic World. My dad used to say this place was ‘All-osaurus and a bag of chips’.” A smile stretches across his face, but it disappears just as quickly as it had come. “He was so corny.”

“Um, was?” Ben inquires. “So, your dad is…” 

His silence is enough of an answer for everyone.

“I’m sorry, Darius.” Sammy blurts, before backtracking hastily. “Ugh! ‘Sorry.’ Nice one, Sammy, Ya ding-dong! Like ‘sorry’ could begin to–”

“It’s okay.” Darius interrupts.

“Hey, at least your dad never saw what a dumpster fire this place turned out to be, huh?” Yasmina swats Kenji’s back, glaring at him when he snaps his head towards her. “Ow! What? I meant it’s cool that Darius and his dad were so close. I can count on one hand the number of times me and my dad have done… anything.” 

“Kenji, that’s just real sad.” Sammy frowns.

“Yeah.” Kenji mutters half-heartedly. “Did I mention I have a bowling alley?”

“Dang it.” Ben says from beside you, shaking his fanny pack upside down. “Come on, it’s gotta be here somewhere.” 

“Bumpy stepped in something icky and I’m low on sanitizer.” He explains. When everything pours out of his bag and onto his lap, he grabs the sanitizer and squeezes an unnecessary amount into his hands. “It’s fine. I can make more.”

“Ben, why are you here?” Kenji asks rudely. 

Darius walks forward, quick to correct Kenji’s wording. “What he means is–eh, well, you’re scared of dinosaurs, and the outdoors, and sometimes the indoors, and germs.” 

“Whipped cream for some reason?” Sammy adds.

“The way it moves.” Ben shudders.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. What’s the deal?” Kenji asks bluntly, then his eyes turn to you. “Same with you! I’ve tried guessing how you got here, but I’m all out of ideas.” 

A death stare is the only response he gets at first, but with everyone’s prying eyes, including Ben’s, you relent. 

“I wrote a book.” You answer curtly, face warm with embarrassment. 

There’s an odd silence that follows before Kenji speaks up, eyes wide with interest. 

“And? You can’t leave us hanging, dude.”

“It was just something about Jurassic Park, the one before Jurassic World. The reward for the so-called ‘best story written’ was to get into this camp.” You sigh, regret filling your lungs. “Now I wish I just got a gift card or something.” 

“So you’re a writer?” Ben asks.

“I guess. The only reason I’m here is because I was supposed to get paid afterwards.”

“Ah, money hungry.” Kenji tsks at you. It’s hard to push down the urge to strangle him.

“Did you need money that badly?” Darius asks, a single eyebrow raised. 

You don’t answer either of the boys. It wasn’t any of their business, anyway. With your refusal to respond, everyone takes that as a cue to move on. 

Kenji playfully slaps Ben’s shoulder to get him talking. And with a scoff, he does exactly that. 

“My mom works for Mr. Masrani. She got me into camp. Said it would be a great way for me to ‘face my fears’. It’s been a nightmare! I’m sick of being scared all the time.” He scowls. “And running, and almost getting eaten, and… and holding everyone back.” 

Your eyes finally leave the window, staring at Ben instead. You already know all of this, but his added thoughts pique your interest.

“I just can’t do… this.” 

Bumpy bellows softly, looking up at Ben from her place on the floor.

“But it’s not all bad,” He mutters as he rubs Bumpy’s beak. “If I hadn’t come, I–I never would have met–” 

His words don’t get to leave his mouth. The bus shaking unnaturally, throwing everyone off balance. Everyone gasps at the sudden movement, Darius immediately running to check out the problem. 

You all follow him as he runs through the different compartments of the train until he skids to a stop. Another crash shakes the monorail, and Darius squints as he looks through the glass windows.

“Guys, we gotta turn off the lights!” He shouts suddenly, snatching a flashlight from Kenji’s hands and smashing it against the train lights. 

Everyone watches in concern. It’s only when Darius manages to get a second light snuffed out do you all see where his fear comes from. 

Surrounding the monorail are the Pteranodons that the Indominus had freed. 

“Flying reptiles are basically seabirds.” Darius explains. “They’re attracted to shiny, moving objects, and with all these lights on–” 

“We’re a shiny, moving object!” Sammy whines.

One of the screeching Pteranodons slams onto the top of the train, the glass ceiling cracking at its weight. 

Taking that as a sign, the rest of you hurriedly grab the remaining flashlights, banging them against the lights. Ben, however, grabs at empty air. There weren’t enough flashlights for all of you. 

“What should I do?!” Ben wails.

“Just stay out of the way!” Brooklynn yells.

You grasp Ben’s shoulder, pushing him into a sitting position on the ground and making a ‘stay put’ motion with your free hand. With that out of the way, you rush to smash the surrounding lights.

It’s a hard feat with the train shaking everyone every second. The Pteranodons consistently shove themselves against the moving vehicle. Glass windows cracking anytime the creatures would make contact.

Your head ducks just in time for a beak to emerge from the ceiling. That Pteranodon had almost skewered you. 

Immediately after, Darius pairs everyone up to keep casualties at a minimum. 

“Brooklynn, you’re with Yaz. Y/n, help Ben and Bumpy across!” 

You would complain about getting babysitting duty, but now’s really not the time. So instead you just suck it up.

You practically have to throw Ben across the gangway connection. Even Bumpy is easier to move compared to the boy.

Kenji runs ahead of everyone, opening the doors to each separate train car while everyone else smashes the lights out along the way. Meanwhile, you have the special duty of forcing a human boy to get a move on.

After crossing another gangway, Ben curls up against the train wall, a safe distance from the windows. The train shakes as you’re leading Bumpy across, and you get shoved against the train wall. 

You grunt, holding your shoulder before catching something out of the corner of your eye. 

“Darius!” you hiss, tilting your head towards the window.

The boy follows your gaze, breath hitching at the sight of a wrecked train. It was surrounded by Pteranodons as well, the flames of the wreckage doing nothing to deter the reptiles from picking at its remains.

“Now we know what that boom was earlier.” You muttered, brows furrowed in anxiety.

“I told you–”

“Don’t.” Brooklynn interrupts Kenji, running to the windows in order to get a look at the wrecked train herself.

“If we don’t switch tracks or stop this car right now, we’re gonna hit that thing, full speed!” Darius says, face wrinkled with worry.

“The front car, there’s control panels there!” Kenji points, before rashly bragging. “VIP tour, I was eight, they let me drive.” 

Disregarding Kenji’s boasting, Darius pulls the door leading to the control panel. When it doesn’t budge, however, he becomes distressed.

“No, no, no!”

Everyone makes an attempt at opening the door, or even breaking the small window of the door, but it does nothing. Looking through the tiny window again, Darius appears to realize something as he runs back into the train car. 

“I’m gonna get to the control car through there.” 

And by ‘there’, Darius meant he was going to climb onto the roof through a little shaft on the ceiling, and then drop in through the similar one in the control car. Obviously, everyone thought he was insane.

“You’re gonna what?!” Sammy screams.

“You can’t go out there!” Kenni sputters. “T–that’s where the flying whatevers are!”

“We don’t have a choice!” Darius affirms as he climbs onto one of the empty seats near the shaft. “Me and–” 

He pauses, staring at Ben’s huddled form before correcting his words.

“I’m the only one that can fit.”

Everyone falls to the ground as the monorail tremors. 

Recovering from the fall, Darius calls out to the rest of you. “Distract the flock while I crawl over the top to the control car. Use the flashlights, just keep them away from—”

A squeak from the hatch has you all snapping your heads towards it. You only catch a glimpse of Ben’s legs before he fully pulls himself onto the top of the train. 

“Ben!” Darius shouts, terrified for the boy’s safety. 

Your eyes are wide in confusion. Why would he do that? He’s usually such a coward, not that you can blame him, but this is just so out of character for him. You’re almost worried. 

The shaking of your hands forces you to strengthen your grip, and you can’t convince yourself that you aren’t scared witless. But this time, you’re scared for someone else. 

You push those feelings in the back of your mind, and instead turn your flashlight on and start running opposite of the control car.

Your departure makes Darius pause in his movements. He was going to follow Ben, try to make him turn back, but this was his own decision. Ben was putting his trust in all of you to draw the attention of the Pteranodons away from him. So that’s exactly what you all will do. 

“Come on! We have to keep them away from Ben!” Darius orders, following in your footsteps as he shines his flashlight throughout the dark train. 

Everyone runs across the train, whipping their arms around to draw the Pteranodon’s attention towards them. The glass windows around your group continue to crack with each attack the flying reptiles make on the train. 

The monorail leans to the side as it changes paths, sparks flying with the screeching metal. The wrecked train from before is pushed off the monorail track, the blaze drawing the Pteranodons towards it like moths to a flame. 

Everyone stands in befuddled silence for a minute or two, and then laughter and cheer fill the silence. Finally, the control car’s doors open up to reveal Ben. The boy huffs, short of breath from all the action.

Bumpy races past you all to run up to Ben, her tail thumping against the ground excitedly. You all walk forward, congratulating him on both saving your guy’s butts and overcoming his fears. 

“You saved us, Ben. I didn’t know you had it in you.” Darius smiles.

“So cool.” You whisper, but you’re sure that Ben heard you when he grins your way.

Maybe Sammy was right about the whole friends thing. Perhaps, given the chance, you could grow close to all these people. You won’t have to worry about your parents anymore. You won’t have to worry about getting that money anymore. You won’t even have to worry about getting off this island. 

With Ben’s show of courage, you feel your chest beat abnormally. Man, you really need to ask him about staying in contact after all of this. For the first time since you all got stranded on this island, you felt hope.

So when Ben reaches his hand out, you earnestly go to grab hold of it. But your hands aren’t able to meet when the glass window beside him shatters. 

A Pteranodon bursts through the window, doing the same to the next one as it flies out. Though in doing so, it brings Ben with it. Ben’s hand is pulled away from your own, and in a sudden fit of fondness, you still make a grab for his hand. 

In an instant, you’re almost pulled out of the train car were it not for your free hands grabbing hold of the monorail’s wall. Broken glass lining the frame stabs at your hand, but it doesn’t faze you. The only thing you can focus on is Ben’s tight hold on your wrist.

Ben screams, the Pteranodon adamant about stealing the boy away. You feel as if you’re going to tear in two, and it doesn’t get any better when Ben falls from the Pteranodon’s grip. You slip, knees hitting the ground roughly because of the sudden weight.

You look down at Ben, and you hope he can see the terror in your eyes. Maybe you didn’t make it obvious enough before, but you’d fully admit it now. You cared for him. He was probably the first friend you’ve made in ages. And this is how he was going to die?

When the muscles in your arms start to burn, you move your hand from the wall to the ground, pushing against it to keep yourself upright. But when Ben’s hold on you loosens, you let both your hands grasp onto his. 

With your support gone, you start slipping out of the train; you try to stop yourself from falling out of it, but the weight of the both of you is too much.

Just before you fully fall off the train floor, someone takes hold of your legs and pulls you backwards. The jagged edges of the broken glass dig into your stomach, but when Ben cries your name, the only pain you feel is the burning of your eyes.

You grit your teeth, trying to keep your tears in, but it’s all too much. Ben’s cries, his desperate grip on your wrists, the glass that’s probably embedded into your skin by now, and the way your arms are burning from Ben’s weight. It hurts so much, but you don’t let go. 

You can’t let go of him. You can’t let go of the cowardly kid who’s scared of everything. Who trusted you enough to tell you his life story ages before he told anyone else, who stuck by you anytime he got scared, who you would call your friend if he could hear you over the wind whipping against your ears. 

You don’t want to let go of him, but when has anything ever gone how you wanted it to?

[jasontoddiefor]

A gift for @thenegoteator :D

It took a Temple to raise a child, and Mace Windu was very much aware of this. However, it did not explain what Ahsoka Tano was doing at his door in the middle of the night. Ahsoka had deep bags under her eyes, which wasn’t too much of a surprise considering the current living arrangements of her lineage. While little Luke and Leia were relatively well-behaved newborns, they were still only a few weeks old. If their human caretakers didn’t wake up at every single little whimper, then the togruta with the superior hearing certainly would.

“Do you want to come inside?” Mace asked, not letting his confusion show. He was used to people coming to his door at the oddest hours.

“If—if I can?” Ahsoka replied as if only now becoming aware of her actions. In this, she reminded Mace of her Grandmaster and the many nights Mace had found Obi-Wan coming to his doorstep during the first months of Anakin’s stay at the Temple.

“My door is always open, Padawan,” Mace said – and watched her wince.

Ah.

So there was the problem.

“Caleb is currently sleeping in my bed as Depa is away,” Mace explained. “So please keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake him unnecessarily.”

The boy had already had a hellish enough month behind him, he needed all the rest he could get. Even though the war was officially over, enough planets refused to surrender, drawing out the battles until they had nothing but children left to sacrifice. It weighed on Mace’s shoulders, making him wonder whether he wasn’t too old to carry such burdens still.

Ahsoka nodded and followed Mace inside. He couldn’t recall whether Ahsoka had been in his room before, but from the way she eagerly looked around his quarters, taking in the sight of old instruments, books, and holos, he guessed she hadn’t. Well, at one point in their life, every Jedi had set a foot inside Mace’s quarters, so this was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

Ahsoka tore herself away from the sight and looked at him with surprise. “I—yes? That would be nice.”

“Then I will make a cup. Do you have any preferences? I believe I even have Obi-Wan’s favorite blend here.”

Mace had no idea whether he had bought it or if Obi-Wan had just left it here from himself when he came over. Knowing the other man, it was likely that the latter was the case. For a man claiming to be so very polite, Obi-Wan could be a right brat.

Mace’s kitchen was small, with only a few cabinets and one shelf, two cooking tiles, and an oven. He wasn’t much of a cook himself and preferred to eat in the cafeteria with everyone, frequently taste-tasting what the Initiates had prepared. He selected two uneven cups Depa had made for him when she’d been young from the shelf. Why she had decided to pick up pottery of all hobbies was beside him, but he supposed that she found the motion soothing. Devan did enjoy parkouring through the lower levels and Echuu was quite content playing the guitar to calm himself.

Perhaps Mace should focus less on why all three of his Padawans had decided they wouldn’t follow him into theatre so they could continue to make fun of him. Setting the water to boil, Mace searched through his cabinets until he found Obi-Wan’s favorite blend. The fruity tea was far from the blend he preferred, but Mace prided himself on being a good host. While he waited for the tea to finish steeping, Mace enjoyed the quiet of the night. For all that there were few sounds as dear to him as that of people walking, or in the case of some younglings and few selected Knights, running, down their large hallways, Mace could appreciate the quiet when the world came to rest.

With two finished cups in hand, he returned to the living room, where he found Ahsoka curled up on the sofa, no longer studying his quarters for any hidden secrets.

“Thank you,” she said when she accepted the cup from him. She held it in her hands as if to warm them, letting the steam hit her face. She breathed in once, twice, finding her rhythm again. Mace waited until she’d calmed enough to speak up.

“What brings you to my door, Padawan Tano?”

Ahsoka flinched and appeared to make herself even smaller as if attempting to vanish. When it became apparent that it didn’t work, that silence hadn’t been what she had sought him out for, she let out a sigh. “You keep calling that.”

“Calling you what?” Mace asked, his brow raised, playing oblivious.

“… Padawan.”

“Are you not? I was under the impression that you had returned to the Temple.”

“I did, but I still left,” Ahsoka replied. “I left and I was convinced that I had to leave and that it was good that I did. I still think I had to leave the Temple behind.”

“Then why are you torn?”

Ahsoka’s hold on her cup tightened and so, perhaps in wise anticipation, she set it on the table and buried her hands in her robes instead, hiding their twitching from view. Mace could trace all her mannerisms to her teachers and couldn’t imagine what it must be like to purposefully rip all those pieces from yourself when they had become so ingrained in your very being. Even Dooku, who’d fallen so far from their beliefs, had been unable to fully rid himself of Yoda’s lessons. Maybe it was for the best. Hope had become a scarce commodity during the war, yet Mace considered the possibility that in a decade, they wouldn’t be imprisoning a Sith anymore.

“But am I still a Padawan? A member of this Order?” Ahsoka asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she shook like the leaves on the trees in the courtyard.

“Has your Master told you anything different?”

Ahsoka paused. “…. No.”

Seeing that realization was settling within her, Mace nodded. “Then you should not doubt him. You are a Jedi, Ahsoka Tano, and you will remain one as long as you live by our tenets.”

That teased a startled laugh from her. “Compassion for all except people who cheat at push-n-pull?”

As if transported back ten years, hearing Anakin say the same, Mace snorted. “The similarities between you and your Master astonish me every time. Yes, Padawan Tano, compassion for all.”

This seemed to calm the youth as she reached for her cup again and emptied it slowly. “It’s good.”

Mace smiled into his own cup. “I’d be insulted if it wasn’t. Obi-Wan forced me to memorize all the steps for making it.”

The then young Knight had been frazzled, and Mace honestly couldn’t tell what it had been about and had forced Mace to learn how to make this tea until he’d more or less collapsed on Mace’s sofa, completely knocked out until morning when Anakin had picked him up.

“He does do that,” Ahsoka agreed. “I think this is the only thing anyone can make reliably now.”

“Sleep-deprived much?” Mace inquired.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I love Luke and Leia dearly, but they are demanding and need a lot of attention.”

That was honestly kinder than Mace would have described newborns at her age.

“There is a reason why we usually don’t have children this young in the Temple,” Mace said. “They are very handful. Do you get enlisted to help very often?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No, Obi-Wan, Skyguy, and Padmé got it covered, and I’m mostly just helping out somewhere else.”

She trailed off a little. This, perhaps, was another issue, but one that could be equally easily dealt with.

“Thank you then for going where you are needed,” Mace told her.

Ahsoka blinked. “Huh?”

“You will grow into a specific role someday, Ahsoka, and that needs time. Do not feel as if you need to earn back your place in the Temple. You don’t need to earn yourself a home you have always had. For now, trust me when I say that everyone you’ve helped is glad that you were there. It is an admirable quality to have a sense of where you are needed. Do not see it as being the odd one out.”

This was the hardest lesson to teach and learn, the fact that there was a path out there for you, but that it took time to see where it would lead. Too many of their Padawans now felt utterly lost without the structure the war had provided them with.

“Oh. I guess if you say so.”

“Yes, I do say so,” Mace agreed. Then, eyeing Ahsoka’s empty cup, he added on, “do you want another?”

“No.” Ahsoka yawned. “I think I might best head back.”

“You can also sleep here if you want, and don’t mind Caleb hogging the blanket. I won’t go to bed tonight anyway.”

Ahsoka squinted at him as if attempting to discern whether he was lying. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really—”

“Ahsoka, go to bed.”

Clearly feeling better already, she saluted and, after Mace showed her his bedroom, made herself comfortable in it. She took off her shoes and tossed her robe over a chair before climbing into the bed. Ahsoka had barely laid down when Caleb already turned around to curl around her, clinging like a little monkey. After a moment’s apprehension, she relaxed and was fast asleep. Stealing one last glance at the two Padawan, Mace returned to his living room, looking through the incoming reports.

Hectic as the aftermath of the war was, as much effort as caring for their children was, Mace wouldn’t trade it for a single thing in the world.

[nightowlfandom]

Billy Loomis And Stu Macher x Reader- Our Favorite Girl (Slight gore warning)

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...(Trigger warning, stabby stab)

“Hey newbie!” 

You looked up from your textbook to find Stu Macher prancing up to you. With a polite smile, you greeted him.

“Hi Stuart.” you said. “How are you?”

“Hey! I said you didn’t have to be so ‘oooh hi Stuart I’m so prim and proper.’ “ he laughed out loud. “We’re friends aren’t we?” 

“I guess so.” you laughed nervously. “ Um...what’s up?”

“I’m havin’ a party and you’re coming!”

“Parties?” You frowned. “I-uh...” you wanted to reject the idea. You hated parties and your parents would probably blow a fuse if they knew what was going on around town. ‘Stuart, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not, kitten?” he winked. “Afraid to be seen with little ol’ me?” there was a darkness behind his words that you couldn’t ignore. “Don’t like being out after dark?”

“I’m not the partying type is all.” you shrugged. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the most popular person around here.” you stared down at your shoes. “I just don’t wanna ruin your party. I’m the last person you wanna be seen with.”

“It’d make me real happy, kitten.” he stepped forward and slipped his fingertips under your chin and made you look up. “Please? Just for a few minutes.”

Call it weakness, but you couldn’t say no to him.

“Okay.” you smiled lightly. “I’ll go”

“Great! Don’t worry, it’ll be super memorable.” he winked as he skipped off. 

Later on, you were walking to your locker only to bump into Adam. Typical bully. “Hey Y/N. Heard you were going to Macher’s party tonight...you gonna wear a dress for me?”

“No.” you answered curtly. “It’s amazing how you don’t seem to have anything better to do other than shove your nose into my business.” you hugged your books to your chest. “Can I go now?.”

“Hey...is there a problem?” you turned around to find Billy Loomis stalking up to you. You had seem him a handful of times but never actually talked to him before. “You...where do I know you from?”

“I sit behind you in English. We had a project together once.” you replied sheepishly. “Stuart forces me to sit between him and his girlfriend at lunch when they’re fighting. You talk to me from time to time...”

“Stuart...” he raised an eyebrow. “You mean Stu?”

“mhm! You probably don’t remember me because I never reply...” you nodded. 

“You goin’ to his party or somethin’?”

“He asked me to go.” you trailed off. “You’re going too, right?”

“ Why? Excited to meet me there?”“ he smirked, totally ignoring Adam at this point. 

“I mean...” you stared down at your books. “I was hoping someone I’d know would be there.”

Billy raised an eyebrow at you. You gave off a shy aura and for some reason he was into that. He and Stu had been planning a massacre, and they were gonna blame that damned Sydney Prescott. It was the perfect crime. 

“Hm...I’ll see you there.” he winked at you, then sent a death-bringing glare at Adam. “Problem, handsome?” he sneered as he passed the athlete.

... at the party

“Not even three hours in and I have to hide...” you cursed yourself out. “Damn asshole...!” 

Adam was informed that you had arrived and was looking for you, shit!

You ran into the kitchen, losing your breath. “Billy?” 

The suspect in question whipped around. Billy was holding what you assumed was the house phone and instantly hung it up. “Hey...”

“Am I glad to see you.” you sighed.

“Somethin wrong?” 

Billy was in the middle of executing his plan, but for some reason he couldn’t help but want to talk to you. 

“Adam is looking for me.” you sighed. “Could I...stay here with you? Please?”

Billy smiled, darting out his tongue to run across his bottom lip. You were absolutely adorable. “I have a better idea.” he smirked, walking up to you. “Why don’t we send him a little message?”

“You have a girlfriend.” you put a hand on Billy’s chest. “I c-can’t.”

“Not anymore...she dumped me for Randy.” he tusked. ”Figures right?”

“Well...that’s her fault...you’re pretty cool.” you bit your lip.

“So...” Billy tilted your head up towards you. “Let me-”...he gently kissed your lips. While it felt wrong, you melted into him. He held the side of your face in his hand. Sidney wasn’t your friend, not by a longshot, but you still respected her. The fact that Billy was so willing to kiss you, like this.

“For once...stop worrying about other people.” he mumbled against your lips. “Just live in the moment...shit I know what I want...you know what you want...so act on it damnit.”

“Are we still talking about getting Adam off me back or-”

“Shush...don’t think.”

“Kinda hard to when your girlfriend is in the other room”

“Shut up.” he shushed you, tightening his arms around you. You kissed him back with just as much urgency. How would the others react, seeing this...seeing you. Billy backed you up against the counter. Before it could get any farther, you both heard screaming, girlish screaming. 

“What the hell was that?” you asked, feeling your heart race.

“Stay here.” Billy ran in the direction of the noise, leaving you to stand there in terror.

You could hear screams and cries for help, followed by what sounded like gleeful laughter. You were left frozen in place as a man with a mask on his face kicked open the kitchen door. 

You immediately braced yourself with a kitchen knife.

“Stay back!” you warned. “I will cut you!”

“Easy kitten, I’m not gonna kill ya.”

Call it ignorance. Call it instinct, but there was something familiar about the way this stranger spoke to you.

“What did you just say?” you dared ask this man. “Did you just call me kitten?”

“You’re naive, childish...and adorable...like a little kitty cat.” the way he laughed under the mask led you to believe he was laughing with his tongue stuck out.

There was only one person that you knew who spoke like that. You slowly lowered the knife and walked up to him cautiously. The figure didn’t move in the slightest. You were standing toe to toe with him. 

You cautiously raised the mask only revealing the bottom half of the strangers face...only they weren’t a stranger.

“Stu.” you concluded.

“....You said my name.” he flirted.

“Care to explain?”

“In a bit...got something to take care of.” he straightened his mask again before disappearing again.

It was only less than a minute before Stu came quite literally crawling back into the kitchen.

Stu doubled over, holding his stomach as you rushed over to his side. “Stu?” you put a hand on his forehead. “Stu, please don’t be dead!” you winced. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” That damn Sidney...she must have had something to do with this.

“Y/N...it hurts.” Stu moaned in pain. “Hold me?” 

You wasted no time in gathering him to the best of your abilities. He rested his head in your knee. You hummed thoughtfully, shushing him while you used his sweater to apply pressure to his stab wound.

“Y/N, are you sure you aren’t an angel?” He shamelessly flirted, smiling through his pain.

“No, I’m not.” you giggled. ”Save your energy.”

“I’d have more if you just gave me those lips of yours...” he winked. Just to shut him up, you kissed his forehead. 

“Not what I meant, but works for me.”

 As you chided the poor boy, Sydney ran into the kitchen, screaming at the top of her lungs while Billy also wounded stumbled behind. 

“Billy??” you gasped in horror. Seeing you must have caused him to loose his footing, because he slowed his movements. You laid Stu on his back and urged him keep his sweater over his wound. 

You scrambled to your feet, eyeing Sidney with a glare no one had ever seen you wear.

“Y/N! You’ve got to believe me! They’ve been the ones doing this.”

“I find that really hard to believe that when you were just standing over Stu with a bloody knife.” you seethed. “Your own boyfriend? Really?” you dared step closer.

“Y/N! They’re manipulating you!” she began crying. “You have to see it!” She was obviously hysterical.

“Then give me the knife.” you faked calm, cautiously stepping towards her. “Give me the knife...and we can-” you stopped yourself. You looked over at Billy, praying he wouldn’t be mad. “We’ll call the cops.” you you held your hand out.

“WHAT?” Billy seethed. You avoided his gaze. Hopefully he wouldn’t sense your fear. 

“Trust me...” you said, just barely above a whisper. You were mostly talking to Billy, but had to make it look like it was directed at her. “We can get out of this...”

Sidney (very stupidly) outstretched her hand, the one that was holding the knife. Once it was within your reach, you grabbed her wrist, and grabbed the blade with your free hand, throwing it to the side. You tackled to to the floor and held her down.

“Crazy bitch.” you mumbled. She began thrashing, and screaming bloody murder. You were eventually able to get the best of her. “Whoever is the least dead...COPS...NOW!” You struggled as Sidney screamed. “This bitch is out of her mind!.”

“I have a better idea.” A seemingly fine, and now very much not dead Stu rose to his feet, a sick smile plastered on his face. The knife had slid over to him and you hadn’t even realized. You were too focused on keeping Sidney on the floor.

Suddenly you were yanked back into Billy’s arms as a sharp object came down from above, plunging through Sidney’s chest. 

“Oh my god!” you buried your head into Billy’s shirt, trying to block out the terrible sounds you heard the terrible sounds of skin ripping. 

“Shhh it’s over babe.” He shushed you. “It’s okay.” he stroked your hair with his bloody hand. Stu laughed manically as he wiped the sweat off his face. 

“Some party huh.” Stu cackled. He wasted no time in sandwiching you between himself and Billy.

“You had us thinking you’d betray us, Kitten.” Stu dug his head into your shoulder.

“Y/N would never do that to us...she’s our good girl.”

“You guys are-”

“Absolutely.”

“And this party was-”

“Smart girl.”

“And now that you know our little secret, we’re never letting you go, kitten!” Stu laughed. 

“And if you tell anyone, we’ll have no choice but to take you down with us...but you won’t do that to us, will you?” Billy asked, nuzzling his head into your neck.

[panda-writes-kpop]

Vampire! JiU - (You’re Not) One of Us (Requested!)

A/N: Hi guys, girls, and non-binary pearls! I hope you all are doing well. This is one of my favorite works, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Word Count: 1,512

TW: Food, Violence (JiU smacks a guy with a chair), threats

You close your eyes and let the music guide your movements.

I guess this isn’t the worst way to spend my birthday.

You sigh as the made-up birthday party in your head disappears, and you realize that you’re still alone in your small city apartment.

Yeah, this is the worst way to spend my birthday. I know that I moved to the city a few months ago, but why didn’t I think to make any friends? I left everything behind just to chase my dream career, and where has it left me? Alone and listening to my favorite music while dreaming of a different life. Why is my life so sad?

You let out an exhausted breath while pulling the earbuds out of your ears.

Well, I guess that there’s no time like the present to make new friends.

You quickly gather your things and head for your door.

I hope that I’ll find a new future somewhere out here.

~

A coffee shop that’s open at 11 p.m.? That sounds kinda weird, but I might as well try it.

After realizing that every other place was closed at this hour, and you didn’t really feel like clubbing, you ended up standing in front of a coffee shop. Instead of the welcoming, homely vibes that most coffee shops had, this coffee shop looked like it was built during the Victorian Era with lots of extravagant decorations on the outside of the building. There weren’t any windows, but there was a sign that read: Coffee Shop, Open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

I guess it’s better than nothing.

You approach the door and let your hand fall onto the handle. A sense of dread fills your stomach, but you quickly waved it away.

What’s the worst that could happen?

A soft breeze tickles your neck, and you take that as a sign to walk inside.

Here goes nothing…

~

As expected, the eerie outside of the building matches the inside perfectly. The wallpaper is a deep purple with a few candle holders scattered across the four walls. All of the furniture is completely black, with a few tables that are covered in a layer of dust.

Did I just walk into an abandoned building?

The smell of sweet baked goods dismisses the thought in your mind, and you quickly approach the see-through counter. There’s an assortment of coffee machines, but none of them quite look alike.

That’s weird. I could swear that some of them look like they belong in a history museum.

You see a small metal bell to your left that looks like it’s seen better days, and you decided to give it a ring.

Might as well. I’m starving, and the smell of that food isn’t helping.

“Oh, I’ll be right with you!” A sweet voice rings out from behind a black door that you didn’t see before.

“It’s okay, please take your time.” You call out to the voice, and she giggles in response.

“You’re quite the friendly customer, aren’t you? Most people like us aren’t that patient.”

Like us? What does she mean by that?

The woman then begins humming, and you can hear her voice get closer. The door slowly opens to reveal a woman about your age holding a plate of sweets in one hand, and a pitcher of coffee in the other.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I-” The woman gasps as her eyes meet yours.

“You’re not one of us…”

~

“So you’re not one of those vampire hunters?” The woman inquires while clearing off a table for you to sit at.

“Those exist?!?” You look at her in befuddlement while she laughs once again.

That laugh has got to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.

“Of course they do. We’ve all been doing a great job at keeping ourselves hidden over the centuries.” She smiles brightly at you as your face flushes red.

She’s beautiful…

“Oh, where are my manners!” She scolds herself. “I’m JiU, and you would be?”

Wow, I cannot believe that I walked into a pretty vampire’s coffee shop. What are the odds? ...Why is she staring at me? Did she say something?

“Y/N, my name’s Y/N.” You quickly introduce yourself, hoping that was what she wanted to hear.

“A great name for a gorgeous person.” JiU winks before gesturing you to sit down. “The food’s on the house.”

She’s pretty AND kind?!? I’ve hit the jackpot!

~

You couldn’t let yourself only make one trip to JiU’s shop, so it became a weekly occurrence for you to stop in and see her. The food was great, but seeing and talking to JiU was the best part. She’d always have a bright smile on her face when you’d stop by. After a few months, you felt the attraction to JiU grow stronger and stronger, so you just had to say something. You wanted to prepare some big plan, but you decided that it would be best to just walk in and tell her how you feel.

~

The late night breeze accompanies you as you walk to JiU’s shop. You basically have the route memorized in your mind at this point.

Two lefts, one right, and walk down a block until I see the gargoyles outside of her shop.

You watch the night sky twinkle with a beautiful display of stars. It occurs to you to take a picture before they fade away.

I’m sure that JiU would love this.

As you approach her shop’s door, you notice a figure dressed in all black enter before you.

Huh, that’s weird. JiU said that she doesn’t usually have customers at this hour. I wonder what’s up with this person?

You shrug off the nervous feeling in your stomach as you walk in the door.

I’m sure it’s nothing.

You let the door slam shut behind you, and the figure has once again become visible. Their whole body snaps around, and you can see a red tint in their eyes.

Something tells me that this is a vampire.

You don’t move a muscle as the figure approaches you. You can’t make out any distinguishing features beneath their all-black attire. All you can see is their glaring red eyes.

“Aren’t you just a fragile thing? I thought humans knew not to come around these parts at night.” The figure’s voice has a creepy yet charming sound to it. “Oh well, I guess I could use a midnight snack.”

The figure is nearly within a foot of you before you hear footsteps approaching.

“Hey, read the sign!” JiU shouts while running over to you.

“What sign?” The figure looks confusedly at JiU before looking back at you.

“That one.” JiU points at a blank space on the wall, and the person lets their eyes wander over there.

“I don’t see any-” Their voice is cut off by the slamming of a chair against something.

Oh my god.

With the person on the floor, and JiU holding onto half of a chair leg, it doesn’t take you long to figure out what happened.

Are vampires seriously that strong?

JiU drops the chair leg and runs over to you. Once she reaches you, she cups your face with her hands while looking you over. You can’t help but blush at the close proximity of your faces.

“Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you, right?” You nod, which causes JiU to sigh in relief.

“Thank goodness. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t okay.” She quietly mutters the last part while taking her hands off of your face.

“Who was that?” You ask curiously. You take the opportunity to slip your hands in JiU’s, and she seems to lighten up when your hands are in hers.

“I’m not sure, but if that vampire is like most of us, then you’re not safe.” JiU looks you in the eyes, and you know that she’s dead serious.

“Not safe? Why am I not safe?”

“Vampires stay in groups, and since we fought one, the whole group will end up coming after us. It won’t take them long to find a human like you.” JiU explains while squeezing your hands.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” You look at her nervously, hoping to get some sort of answer.

“Come and stay with me. I live with a welcoming group of vampires, and I’m sure that they’ll love you as much as I do.” You nod along with every one of JiU’s words.

She’s offering for me to stay with her, and she’s expecting me to say no. I don’t know what to do, but if it’s for my safety, then I should stay with her.

“Okay.” You let your eyes meet hers. “I’ll go with you.”

JiU smiles as she leads you towards the back of the shop. “And one last thing, Y/N, before we go.”

“What is it?” You look at her curiously.

“I’ll always consider you to be one of us, no matter what happens.”

[riverisnotsafe]

Mine.

PAIRING: F!Servant!Reader x Naoya Zenin

WARNINGS: NAOYA ZENIN. Naoya smut. NSFW, Minors DNI. | If you're into any of these: possessive Naoya, breeding kink (?), mentions of overstimulation, jealous Naoya.

A/N: You can call me Noct or River. I’m still fairly new to how tumblr works and how writers and bloggers (?) write their imagines/fics so I do apologize in advance if my writing is not to your liking. I will also post on AO3 under sunflowerpsycho. I'm still trying to improve^^ This was self-indulgent and not edited so pretty all over the place and might be unclear in some parts, sorry bout that.

The reader lowkey a pick me but depends on how you view her, either she's a pick me or she just acts the way she acts to accustom and stroke the lil bitches ego.

“A-ah! Naoya-sama!” you moan his name as he shoots his load deep in you. A few moments of bliss and you were ready to clean yourself. Naoya never liked staying in bed long after sex. He finds it disgusting. All the fluids of sweat, semen and love juices mixed together made his skin crawl. “Oi woman, where are you going?” You haven’t even gotten up but Naoya had you strongly wrapped in his embrace. His cock still deep within you, as if acting as a plug. “I’m gonna wash myself..? You don’t like being dirty like this...usually?” the last bit came out as a question when Naoya buried his head deep into the crevice of your neck. “Ah, I’ll let it pass today. Just stay here. My cum is gonna leak out if you move.” he tried to shove himself deeper, earning an unexpected moan from you. “L-leak out???” Does Naoya have a breeding kink? Is he trying to keep his cum in you???? “N-naoya-sama...are you trying to breed me?” at the mention of breed, you could feel his dick twitch in your core. “Shut up woman.” Ah...so he is and he’s embarrassed to admit. “I feel honoured if that’s what you’re trying to do...” another twitch.

Under that tough misogynistic act, this man is just a boy who thrives on praise, he probably was deprived of any in his childhood, hence the superiority complex. But with you, he’s quite honest. The body doesn’t lie. You were just another servant. He probably paid and slept with many so you never thought of it as anything special. Besides, after all of this dirty work, both of you end up going your separate ways. A servant and the young master. That’s all it is. That is until one of the maids tried stealing from the family, unfortunately from Naoya and he didn’t take it too lightly. A woman and a thief, absolutely the worst. Ever since that, he appointed you as his personal maid, to ensure that only one person will serve him. Only one will enter and exit his quarters. Only one will serve his meals. Only one will tend to him. Only one will follow him around the house. Only one will keep him company when needed. Why did he choose you? Honestly you had no idea. Out of all the servants, clearly you were the least appealing, especially for a man of Naoya’s caliber.

You could never rival the looks of any of the other girls. You were chubby. Your thighs a bit too thick. Your cheeks were puffy. You had no thigh gap. Curves? Well, they weren’t hour-glass curves so you were bedrock bottom ranked. And when it came to family, you were a nobody. All the other servants have been serving the Zenin clan for generations. You were just a nobody who was pulled into the servant life to pay off your parent’s debt. What luck. It took him time though, to make you tend to him sexually. He might have a big ego and any woman would sleep with him but deep down he knew it was only for money and his looks, which he prided on. The sex was always bland. He could care less about the women’s pleasures, he would ejaculate outside, toss them money and demand them to immediately leave. He found them disgusting. Weren’t you just the same?

He had a great face, an even better body and all the riches you could’ve dreamt of, so why has he not tossed you out yet. He for sure can suspect that you’re just the same as all those women, plus, you were even lower, a nobody. Yet, here he is, deep inside you. This has been..about the sixth time you and Naoya have had intercourse. The first three times was when you were just a normal servant. Coincidentally he always found you and forced you to pleasure him. The pay was good so you never complained. After becoming his personal maid, it took a few months to make you fulfil his sexual needs, which is rather strange. A man like knows nothing of consent. He’s a tyrant. What he wants, he can get and he will. So why did he take months to make you fuck him when it was so easy before becoming his personal servant. Who knows? Maybe it was his underlying insecurities asking him to be sure.

“Naoya-sama...may I turn to look at you?” he grunts. “I’ll be sure to avoid any leakage” he nods. You slowly turn your body, still impaled on him. It was a different kind of pleasure but you withheld your moans. Your face are so close. This moment is intimate, for you and him. Almost unreal. He’s gorgeous. That red tint of blush and sex afterglow just added more to his beauty. “Naoya-sama. May I speak more than usual?” “Only because you asked for permission. Proceed.” he avoided looking into your eyes. A shy one. “I appreciate my master’s kindness. Thank you for allowing me to speak. Naoya-sama...please be honest with me. Are you trying to impregnate me? Why? I’m just a lowly servant. I could never be perfect to bear your children, or be a concubine. I have no value. You are too kind. We should stop. I will remove myself now. Thank you for your time master.” You slowly push yourself off him. He grabs your arm harshly, definitely bruising it.

“You said no leakage. And how dare you speak to your master so insolently? How dare you question what holds value to me or not. You are a lowly servant. You’re a filthy no-name bitch. You live to lick my shoes and pick up money I throw on the ground. You are not going anywhere. You are staying on this bed with me in you. You have to be reminded who your master is.” Oooh, you definitely pissed him off. You winced at his words. They were normal, he always told you where your place is so it wasn’t a surprise. “You stupid woman. Now it’s out. You moved and now it’s out.” he sounds disappointed. He was whining like a child. “Naoya-sama!” he plunged into you hard. “Yes, scream my name you stupid bitch.” He went faster and faster. “Don’t cum inside...I’m not worthy master” “Shut your mouth. Worthy? No woman is worthy of me. Selfish. All they care about are themselves. Such an inferior gender thinking what they know is worthy? I decide. I decide your worth.” He changed positions. He pressed both your legs close to your chest. A mating press. He was so deep. The squelching of his previous load acting as lubricant was erotic.

“You. Your lewd body. You were always trying to seduce me. Those luscious thighs. These fat breasts. You were made for child-bearing. The look you make when I fuck you. So in awe, eyes rolling back. Ah. Ah. Sometimes you even forgot payment because you rushed to clean yourself. You were the only memorable one. The sounds you make. You’re erotic. No one else can see or hear you except me. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Naoya drilled you senseless. So desperate to hear you. Desperate to look at your expressions. Desperate to conquer you. “N-naoya-sama! Ah! Ah! Naoya-sama!” You had practically lost any sense and all you could feel was his dick fucking you mercilessly. The veins. The length. The girth. He fit like a glove. He had shaped you to be accustomed to him. “When that no-name clan came yesterday for a meeting. I saw your look. You enjoyed how they all looked at you didn’t you? You slut. You’d want them to fuck you like this right? Only I can though. You smiled and served them. Desperate bitch.” The meeting yesterday?

Your mind wandered. Oh yes, a small clan that are partners with the Zenin in business. The heirs were quite good-looking and well-mannered, how could a lady not feel flattered. You can’t remember if you specifically smiled or enjoyed their small talk. Was being polite not a simple necessity a servant should have towards guests? To ensure their master was not seen as tardy. You can’t remember their names or faces. All you remember was Naoya slipping his hand under your garments and fingering you. “You enjoyed people watching right? Especially since they were good-looking. I WAS RIGHT THERE WITH YOU. Disgusting piece of shit.” He got even rougher. You don’t know how many times you’ve orgasmed and how many times Naoya had ejaculated in you but he was still at it. He’s jealous huh.. how strange. A man that could have anything and anyone in the world was strangely possessive of a worthless woman like you. “You can’t show them those expressions. Mine. Your kindness mine. Your sounds. Mine. You’re my servant.” he sounds sad.

Despite being in subspace, you unintentionally reach out to your master and cub his face. “Naoya-sama. I love you.” Those unintentional words made the malicious man slow down his pace. “What did you say?” Is he angry? Oof, all the best dealing with another tantrum. You couldn’t feel anything. Legs sore. Your mind had wandered. The pleasure had made you dumb yet the little consciousness you have for your master remained. “I love you, Naoya.” His cock twitched. “Again” “I love you.” “Again” “I love you, Naoya-sama”. All that repeating made you come to your senses. “I don’t remember the men from yesterday. All I remember were your thick fingers in me. My expressions and mewls were for you. If this body is what you want then I will offer it all to you, my master. Ask, you are my master after all. All of me is yours.” You get up a bit, and stagger, he fucked the life outta ya. “Master, allow me to speak.” a small dumbfounded nod. You slip a hand onto his cheek and kiss him. Both of you never shared a kiss.

It was too intimate for a servant to kiss their master. Only their betrothed would be worthy but you couldn’t help it, you needed to assure this man-child, you were no one else’s. “Master, I-“ “Naoya. When we’re alone call me Naoya.” a small smile crept onto your lips. “Naoya, breed me.” His face was flushed. That’s exactly what he wanted. Through the night, he fucked you in every inch of the room. Both of your fluids and smell, absolutely drenched his quarters. He never once ejaculated outside. Every drip of his semen was in your womb, he wouldn’t even pull out, in fear it would leak. Shower? He fucked you while showering too. His animalistic senses stopped when a knock on the door came.

“Lay down with your back arched. It can’t leak.” He put on a robe and answered. A woman’s voice. “Naoya-sama. Naobito-sama is calling for you.” “Tch. Annoying old man” he slams the door shut. “Oi. Arch even more.” He came back to you. “I’m going to put this in you so you don’t spill.” He was holding, A DILDO? This man has a dildo? “N-naoya-sama, t-thats...” “Some servant I had my way with some time ago left it to fuck with me. I kept it not knowing what it was but now the shape looks like it’d plug you up good.” A servant he had his ways with huh. You were just another one right. He seemed to have noticed your train of thought. “Stupid woman. That servant is long gone. And now. You’re mine. No other stupid bitch except you. Stop thinking nonsense. Maybe I’ll remind you a bit more. That old man can wait.” He unrobed and pounced you. You definitely can’t walk for a few days.

“I’ll plug you up and we’ll go see the old man” he sounds, quite joyful. “If you move and leak, I won’t hesitate to fill you up again.” Ah. He’s definitely Naoya Zenin. “Naoya-sama” you smile. “What? You should be grateful that I’ve allowed you to speak so many times since last night.” You can’t help but giggle. A slight blush forms on Naoya’s face. “How dare you laugh at m-“ you pull him in for a kiss. He reluctantly kissed back. “Naoya-sama, I love you.” you smiled. He thrusted into you without warning. “The old man can definitely wait. You filled with my child is more important.” God knows how many times he’d come in your womb without pulling out, there’s no way you’re not pregnant. “Naoya-sama...let’s stop here...I can’t walk properly if we continue, then a different servant will have to serve you.” He was about to argue but held his tongue. “Fine.” He pulled out and slowly shoved the dildo in. Looks like he’d rather have wobbly-legged you than another servant. You can't help but smile. “Go shower and meet me back here. And clean the room after meeting with the old man. The smell...erotic but dreadful. Wash everything.” “Yes my master.” You hurriedly got clothed and rushed to the servant quarters to clean up. You were happy. What a weirdo.

[incorrectnessduskwood]

A/N: Alright, here it is! Part two of the story I posted here (I guess I should come up with a title for it, huh?) There a few hundred words less than the other one but I liked the way it ended and I decided to go with it. I still have ideas to keep it going so let me know if you're interested in it. Hope y'all enjoy it!

Pairing: Jake x MC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: spoilers for ep. 8 (still), a little jealous!Jake, and you can see some of my own theories there but nothing much

Falling asleep was never something that came easily to Jake; the constant fear and anxiety of being found were always in his head and every little noise outside of his room would startle him awake, no matter how long he had been sleeping. Even when things were relatively safe and he knew there wasn’t anyone after him, sleeping was something Jake rarely did. He would sleep as little as humanly possible and usually only when he couldn’t bear to be awake any longer.

So it was a pleasant surprise when he quickly fell asleep by MC’s side. She had asked him to lay with her so she wouldn’t be alone because she was afraid of having more nightmares and Jake could never deny MC anything if there was the possibility of saying yes. They laid side by side, MC resting her head on his arm, her own over his waist, one leg between his, and her face mostly hidden in his chest. Jake had threaded his fingers through her hair, heard her sigh and relax against him, and she was asleep within minutes. She looked like the most gorgeous person he had ever seen and he was more than content in watching her throughout the night, to just keep her safe.

Still, Jake’s eyelids got heavy half an hour in, his hand tiring and resting on MC’s shoulder just before he finally gave in and let himself fall asleep, not wanting to fight to stay awake one more night.

When he woke up, it was to the smell of coffee and food, two things Jake wasn’t used to. His heart beat fastly as he sat up, looking around the room with wide eyes until he spotted MC sitting on the table with a mug in her hands and her tablet in front of her, and he remembered her showing up there the last night. She only raised one questioning brow, taking a sip from her mug as Jake finally breathed out, allowing himself to relax, and laid back on the bed. He heard MC chuckle and he only waved her off, closing his eyes and placing his arm over them. The bed was soft and still warm and Jake wouldn’t say no to getting some more sleep, even if he felt more rested than he had ever felt in years; he also wanted to bask in the feeling of being relaxed for a while longer.

A few minutes had passed when he felt the bed weigh down by his side and Jake felt MC’s hand in his hair, so he moved his face until her hand cupped his cheek. He took his arm off his face to look at her, smiling when he noticed the soft blush that covered her cheeks and placing one of his hands on her knees, running his fingers in random patterns.

Neither of them said anything for a while and Jake was more than content to just watch her, to memorize the soft lines of her face, the way her hair fell over her eyes, making them slightly darker but all the more beautiful. Her presence still didn’t feel real and Jake was afraid of it all being a dream—even if he wasn’t creative enough to come up with all of that—so he would take all the chances of having the reassurance that she was indeed there, he would take all the touches she deemed him worthy of having, he would enjoy all the looks she would spare him; anything that would allow him to have her as close as possible. He’d be happy to just look at her from across the room, to just know she was there with him and that she was real and safe and—

“Jake?” MC’s voice broke through his concentration and he blinked a few times to focus on her face again, finding a smirk on her lips.

“I’m sorry, MC. You were saying?”

“I just asked if you were hungry,” she answered through chuckles. “I made breakfast with some of the stuff you had in the fridge. I’d guess you’re just as hungry as I was when I woke up.”

Jake smiled, nodding before sitting up again. “Starving, actually. Do I smell coffee, too?”

“Of course you do. What do you think I am, a savage?” she pointed at the coffee pot on the table she was sitting at. “I wasn’t sure how you’d take your coffee and I didn’t try and guess it either.”

MC stood up and offered him one of her hands. Jake took it and let himself be pulled up by her, finding it all the better when she didn’t let go of his hand and walked with him to the table. She sat at the chair she was before, grabbing her mug once again. Jake poured himself some coffee on another mug and slowly sipped it as he watched MC read something on her tablet, her brows furrowing as she went along whatever text she had open. She would sometimes write something on the piece of paper she had by her side, then she would stare at it as she tapped her pen on the table, her lips moving as she reread some sentence or tried to make sense of something.

Jake realized he could stare at her all day, just watch as she did nothing out of the ordinary but still looked like the most amazing person in the whole world. That was until his stomach growled and he realized he actually needed to eat something and that he should get back to work. MC smiled at him when he raised from the table and walked to the kitchen. She had managed to put together some eggs with what seemed melted cheese and tomatoes, and Jake would be lying if he said it didn’t smell amazing. He took the whole pan and a fork with him before walking to his computer and turning it on.

There were a bunch of notifications from the group chat, mostly everyone keeping each other up to speed about how they were doing and that they were okay. MC had answered for both of them without actually saying they were together, but it seemed to be good enough for the rest of the group; she never ceased to amaze him with how well she dealt with people and how quickly and strongly she had managed to earn the trust from the group. Not that it should surprise him so much when he was also between the ones that had started to trust her so easily.

He hadn’t gotten any notifications about his persecutors nor any news about the police. Apparently, they were still investigating Hanson’s house and trying to find anything because, unsurprisingly, everything was gone by the time the police had gotten there. Good thing Jessica thought of taking pictures of everything so they could at least have some kind of proof; Jake wouldn’t be surprised if the police tried to turn it around and blame it all on the group. He opened Thomas’s videocall to try and see if anything stood out, if he could better the image of the kidnapper’s physique or face or anything that could tell them who it was behind the mask.

Sadly, there wasn’t much he could; even his extensive knowledge couldn’t magically unblurry the whole video or get rid of the mask. There were a few things he could take from the writings and pictures on the walls—not everything because it moved too fast—and he could say for sure that the kidnapper was strong and quick. Thomas had a hard time holding him when he yelled for Jessica and the kidnapper ran almost as fast as the two of them. Even if Michael had kept up with taking care of his physique and trained, he still would have a hard time keeping up with Thomas and Jessica.

Staring at the better screenshot he had managed to take from the kidnapper, he called out, “MC? Could you do me a favour?”

There was no answer and Jake turned his head to look at her. MC seemed deeply concentrated on whatever she was writing on the paper, her hand moving quickly and her head moving from the tablet to the paper and back to the tablet. He quietly stood up and made his way to her side, looking over her shoulder at the paper. Her handwriting was messy and things didn’t seem to follow an order Jake knew about, so he had no idea what she was writing. On the tablet, however, she seemed to be going through some police reports and their discoveries from the cloud. The only thing that stood out to him was the name ‘Phil Hawkins’.

Jake sighed, sitting on the chair next to her and placing a hand on top of the paper she was writing. MC pushed his hand enough so she could finish writing whatever she was writing before raising her head to face him, placing the pen on the paper.

“Everything okay, Jake?”

“I called you and you didn’t answer, thought I could take a look at what you were doing.” She dropped her eyes to the tablet and seemed to realize Jake knew she was searching for something about Phil. “What are you looking for, MC?”

“I’m trying to find out what they arrested Phil for and if we have anything that could prove his innocence.” She hesitated for a few seconds, her eyes darting down to her tablet before focusing on him again. “And I actually wanna ask a favour from you. Could you give me access to Phil’s phone?”

“Why?” Jake heaved a heavy sigh out his mouth, pulling his hand closer to him and staring at her. “Why are you so worried about him?”

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, straightening her back before looking back to him. “He trusted me enough to call me for help, Jake. Not a lawyer or his sisters, me. We still don’t know for sure what his connection to Michael is or how much they actually knew each other back then, but I believe him.” MC sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I know you don’t like him and I truly appreciate the fact that you want to protect me, but there’s a reason why you trusted me to help find Hannah.” She turned fully to him, placing a hand over his, her eyes soft and caring. “But you also have to trust my intuition. We both know it’s been right when you weren’t and I truly believe Phil is innocent concerning Hannah and Amy.”

“But you don’t know the whole truth either, MC. How can you be so sure you can trust him and that you won’t be helping a murderer get out of jail?”

MC smiled sadly, her eyes dropping to their hands. “You know, a while ago, when we first started researching about the man without a face, Richy asked me to be careful and not to turn it into a bigger thing than it was and I told him that I’m looking for facts and not monsters, and I am. I won’t get Phil out of jail by my intuition only. I need proof for the police to actually let him go and for me to be right. But I also need to look for the proof, I need to go through everything I can to make sure I’m right and for my conscience to be clean about freeing him. And if we’re going for not knowing the whole truth about something or someone,” she raised her eyes to him and Jake had never seen her look so serious before, “I also don’t know the whole truth about you but that doesn’t stop me from trusting you, does it?”

Jake didn’t have an answer to that and he couldn’t take looking at her eyes and seeing the hurt there. He knew she was right; he was, indeed, hiding things from her and, even if it was to protect her, it didn’t make it any less of a lie or an omission. How could he judge someone about hiding something when he was doing exactly the same, especially to her?

“Hey,” she placed a hand under his chin and raised his head so she could look at him. “I’m not saying it to make you feel bad. I’m sure you have your reasons to be hiding things from me, even if it’s just because of your hero complex, though it doesn’t make it any easier. But I also know everyone in the group is lying about something to me, too, just like you and Phil are. No one is one hundred percent honest all the time and I can’t force anyone to be. It just doesn’t stop me from wanting to help any of them or you. None of them have given me a bad enough reason not to try to help or to trust them. Even Lilly did her best to show she’s trustworthy. I don’t see any reason why it should be any different for Phil, especially if your only excuse is not liking him. As much of a flirt as he can be, it’s not enough for us to just let him rot in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, don’t you think?”

He sighed, nodding against her hand before turning his head to rest it on her palm, her thumb caressing his cheek. “Would you believe me if I said I’m actually feeling slightly guilty of going against proving Phil’s innocence, now?”

She chuckled, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? Of course I believe you.” MC’s fingers trailed over his arm, leaving goosebumps in their trail, her eyes soft as she stared at him. “Will you give me access to Phil’s phone, then?”

“That’s not fair. You know I couldn’t deny you that, MC.”

“I know you can’t but it doesn’t mean I can’t ask nicely. Me proving Phil’s innocent isn’t about choosing between him and you, Jake. Believe me, Phil may be nice and flirty, but he’s not my type. I’d rather keep insisting on this stubborn hacker I know.”

Jake chuckled, placing his hand over MC’s and turning his head so he could kiss her palm. “If he’s as stubborn as you are, I’m sure you’ll have a hard time getting through him.”

“You have no idea.” MC smiled, tilting her head. “Will you do it?”

“Of course I will, on one condition.” She sighed and muttered something Jake couldn’t make out, though he was sure it was something sarcastic. “Promise you won’t put yourself in danger over this. Or in any more danger than you already are. Freeing Phil will never be more important than keeping you safe to me.”

“I promise. I mean, if we’re both careless, who the hell is going to make sure we’re not caught?” Jake laughed and shook his head at her. MC leaned closer to him, their foreheads touching, her other hand sliding up his arm until she placed it on his shoulder. “Jake?” He hummed, not being able to look anywhere but her eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“Not if I kiss you first.”

But MC was faster in closing the distance between them and Jake got caught in how soft her lips felt under his and in how her hands moved to wrap around his neck and play with his hair. He moved one of his to MC’s waist and the other to her cheek, wanting to pull her as close as he physically could, wanting to share the same space with her, to keep her from moving away from him.

Sadly, his lungs didn’t seem to get the memo and they soon burned and forced him to part from her. When they broke apart, Jake panted a little, letting his forehead rest against hers and keeping his eyes closed. It took a few seconds before MC talked again, “You know, making out with me won’t rid you of hacking into Phil’s phone for me.”

Jake chuckled, opening his eyes to stare at MC, and he thought he had never felt as happy as he did at that moment.

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Texts From The Lost Tomb, Part 8

Honorary Wu Chat, 9pm

KanJian: :D

Wang Meng: And what time do you call this, young man?

KanJian: not 100% sure? Time zones are a little “woohoo!” in my head rn:)

Wang Pangzi: I THINK WHAT WANG MENG WAS TRYING TO SAY WAS, “HEY KID WELCOME BACK HOW WAS YOUR TRIP”

Wang Meng: I specifically asked you to text once the plane landed, and the plane landed an hour ago.

KanJian: Oh I’m so sorry!! It’s just I was talking to this nice old lady seated next to me about her garden, and then there was a puppy, and then the nice lady needed help with her bags,

Wang Meng: *sigh* it’s fine. I just get nervous about you all when you’re on planes.

Li Cu: !!!!! KanJiannn *finger guns*

KanJian: Li Cubra! *fingerslingshot*

Li Cu: my guy you have missed so much shit, I literally lost count of all the shitshows. Oh and I got locked in a freezer but I handled it fine

Liu Sang: Um. Hello, KanJian. Was it a nice flight?

KanJian: omg Liu Sang!! It’s been ages, are you back in the area?

Liu Sang: Yes. I am indeed in the area for the present time. I’ve been staying at Wushanju on and off while I work on shoots. I trust you’ve been well?

Li Cu: Jane Austen called and she wants her formal courtship language fuckery back

KanJian: hooray for your stay, the more the merrier:)

Liu Sang: I don’t really know how to respond to someone being so peppy unironically, but I agree.

KanJian: ?? Laoban tried explaining irony to me once but I got confused and he said never mind and don’t worry about it

Wang Pangzi: LOL WU XIE WOULD KNOW ABOUT IRONY IN LIFE

Li Cu: anyway back to important shit

I need help with target practice are u free or is Wu Xie scheduled for being stupid this week

KanJian: I am free as a bird and happy to help:)

Surrogate Wu Chat

Li Cu: well well well

Liu Sang: …shut up.

Li Cu: how the turntables

Liu Sang: I just got flustered.

Li Cu: good thing I was there with the save, huh?

Liu Sang: Excuse me?

Li Cu: ur coming to target practice>:)

Liu Sang: No.

Li Cu: a.) i bet money your aim is shit b.) Kan Jian will be there and 3.) we can all agree the Wu folks have been back on their bullshit lately, so this is necessary

Liu Sang: …a compelling argument.

Li Cu: thx Uncle Erbai had me take a rhetoric course so I could argue with Wu Xie better

Wushanju Crew Chat

KanJian: Reporting for duty, Laoban!

Wu Xie: welcome home, bud:) I think Pangzi left you cookies in the kitchen.

KanJian: on my way:D

Zhang Qiling: Welcome home, KanJian. It’s good that you are back.

Wang Meng: A reminder that the household meeting is tomorrow at 6:00pm, everyone please be there on time, we have a full agenda.

Wang Pangzi: THE ONLY AGENDA IN WUSHANJU IS THE GAY AGENDA AND ALSO KNIVES

LMAO SINCE WHEN DO WE HAVE HOUSEHOLD MEETINGS

Wang Meng: Would you like me to send you all screenshots of conversations from the last two months?

Wu Xie: :/

Zhang Qiling: Unnecessary.

Wang Pangzi: SO MY WU BAE HAS BEEN MORE FERAL LATELY

SO WHAT? CHAOTIC IS THE NEW CUTE AND FRANKLY GOOD FOR HIM I SUPPORT IT

Wu Xie: <3

Wang Meng: “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”

Wu Xie: I hate to admit that you make a good point

Also now I need to know whether you just memorized that or do you have an inspirational quotes calendar

Wang Pangzi: HE DOES I GOT HIM A PERSONALIZED ONE LAST MONTH

HE HUNG IT UP ON THIS LITTLE WALL BOARD THAT SAYS “BLESS THIS MESS”

Wang Meng: Be there at 6>:(

Wang Pangzi: lol you heard our mother

Wu Xie: haha yeah thx mom

KanJian: Oh are we calling him our mom now? Thanks Mom:)

Zhang Qiling: I have no memory of my parents, but Wang Meng is certainly a good option. Thank you, Mother.

Wang Pangzi: and he was emo. Oh my god, he was emo.

Wu Xie: :( <3 love you.

KanJian: I missed you all so much:)

Wang Meng: I don’t know if I’m crying from hysteria or happiness. Just be at the damn meeting for the love of god.

NonBoomers Only Chat

Liu Sang: So, not to split hairs, but Wu Xie and Wang Pangzi aren’t technically boomers?

Li Cu: yeh but they’re old af

KanJian: that’s right! Laoban just gets better with age:)

Li Cu: …sure that’s one way to think about it. so I have assembled this chat—

Xiao Bai: I AM ON A WU CHAT???? YASSSSS AT LAST HEY KIDDOS

Li Cu: oh hey sis

Xiao Bai: oof A SIS??? <3

Li Cu: oops. Auntie?

Xiao Bai: hilarious so how was the freezer you little brat

Li Cu: aaaand there she is:) ANYWAY I assembled you bitches because let’s face it, we are a.) the future of the Wu clan and b.) not quite as disastrous hopefully so c.) establishing open and honest lines of communication is important according to my thera—someone I know. One minor issue is that we are only four at the moment.

KanJian: I’m 21?!

Li Cu: …

Liu Sang:…

Xiao Bai: …

KanJian: oh wait

Wait I get it now I promise

Li Cu: good luck Liu Sang

Liu Sang: I will kill you

Li Cu: that would upset Wu Xie which would upset Xiao Ge. We wouldn’t want to upset Xiao Ge now would we Liu Sang. would we

Liu Sang: I will ducking maim you.

*ducking

*duck

KanJian: ducks? :D Where?

Xiao Bai: HOW DARE YOU UPSET WU XIE IM TELLING

KanJian: why are people getting upset and murderous over ducks let’s just all be friends <3

Li Cu: lol it’s like U didn’t hear the “we aren’t here to make friends, we’re here to tomb-raid” speech during the Wu clan orientation

Liu Sang: the what at the what?

Xiao Bai: Pangzi said the only reason he went to that was to blow spitballs at Wu Erbai and pretend Xiao Ge did it to see what he would do

KanJian: ooh how was his aim??

Li Cu: tell me there’s footage somewhere lemme guess Wu Xie was being an idiot too

Xiao Bai: apparently Wu Erbai blamed Wu Xie for it because he was laughing so hard and called him an irresponsible waste of an heir—

KanJian: :( hey that’s not nice

Li Cu: the FUCK

I’m locking that fussy fossil in a tomb, it’s what he deserves

Who does that fucker think he is? Talking to Wu Xie like that??? The fuck???

Liu Sang: …you literally just called him an idiot. And you tell him he’s irresponsible like twice a day.

Li Cu: THATS DIFFERENT BECAUSE—IT JUST IS

Xiao Bai: —but then Xiao Ge decided it was a really good time to sharpen his sword and Wu Erbai got really quiet

At least until Wu Sanxing started shooting spitballs at him instead

Li Cu: we stan legends only

KanJian: I love stories with happy endings. Don’t you, Liu Sang?

Liu Sang: Um. Yes?

Li Cu: if you don’t get your shit together I’m bringing Hei Xiazi with us to the range as a chaperone. I’m not pulling a Pangzi and dealing with starcrossed shit, nuh uh, no sir.

Up next: Li Cu deals with starcrossed shit when the range date trip happens, Wu Xie pulls a Sanxing, and Zhang Rishan wants to change his number.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 9

Masterlist

As always thank you to my beautiful bestie @acollectionofficsandshit you can also thank her for all the Max content in this chapter. Its a long one, enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6k

Recommended song: “Hate the way” by G-Easy and blackbear

The one thing that never failed to lift your spirits was your dad's homemade blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. Whenever you were upset as a kid, whether it be your team losing a sporting event, your high-school boyfriend dumping you for the head cheerleader, or getting rejected from an ivy league college you never expected to get into in the first place, his pancakes had been there to cushion the fall. Clever as he was, he always messed them up in some insignificant way like leaving off the whipped cream and hiding the container so you were forced to talk to him in order to remedy it. Then he would crack some stupid joke or cheesy pun that would just barely have the ghost of a smile curling your lips.

Blueberry chocolate chip pancakes were no match for the heartbreak of losing your best friend.

The morning after, you only trudge to the kitchen when your stomach's demands to be fed become too loud to ignore. A steaming pile of fluffy pancakes sits at your usual spot, no syrup in sight. You don't have the energy to find your dad and ask where he's hidden it, instead picking at them. You knew the flavor should be fruity and sweet but every bite tastes like ash. One pancake is all you can manage before nausea roils, threatening to make your meager brunch resurface. 

"Some is better than none," Ben murmurs behind you and you drop your chin in the barest of nods. "We can save the rest and you can warm them up later."

"Thanks," you mumble when he takes your plate. You pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as your gaze turns to the window while your brother washes your dishes, wishing for all the world that you could make your uncooperative limbs move and help him but the mental effort it requires is too taxing. Instead you stay curled up on the chair, the noises of the house waking up around you a dull buzz in your ears. At some point your mother kisses your head and hustles out the door to work, her husband close behind. Ben is the last to leave and is reluctant to do so.

"Promise you'll text me if you need me," he says. "Mom already gave me permission to cut class after trigonometry."

"Sure." You both know it's a lie and a bad one at that. Your voice is dull and flat, completely void of emotion. 

"Mom said she's coming home early anyway,” he tries. “Something about overstaffing at the greenhouse."

"Okay."

The mechanical spooling of the garage door tells you he's finally gone. Your elbows slide forward until your head rests on the table, unable to hold it up any longer.

Every fiber of your being yearns for him, to hear the distinct r's and flowery lilt of his accent as he comforts you through the heartbreak, always knowing exactly what to say. It was second nature to call one another when either of you had had a bad day or a good day or just a normal day - you'd talked so often that last year you had convinced your parents to add international minutes to your phone plan. 

Your fingers itch to dial the number you had long since memorized, knowing it would ring no more than twice before he picked up. He never let it go to voicemail unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it and you had a hunch he was waiting for your call.

Despite knowing better, you scroll through the messages on your phone. Love was evident in each witty remark and wish goodnight, pulling at your heartstrings. Your finger hovers over the delete conversation button, and after a minute of debate, you can't bring yourself to do it. You would allow yourself one reprieve to look back on and remember the good.

It would be so much easier if he had given you a reason to hate him. If he'd cheated or intentionally led the media to your house, hating him would be easy. You wouldn't have to admit that you still loved him because his betrayal would have yanked out the newly blooming bud of love you nurtured and crushed the fragile petals. Instead, you were left knowing that it had been your choice to inflict damage in him. You had no right to seek comfort in his arms or even ask how he was doing. You deserved to be miserable for causing him to feel the same way. 

Yuki is the first to check in on you. You don’t know what he expects; you lie through your teeth when you tell him you were fine.

The press is asking me for my thoughts. No idea why. I told them not to stick their noses where they don't belong.

At least someone had the guts to stand up to those bloodsuckers. Yuki was the last person you'd suspect to do so, but the scrappy twenty-something continued to surprise you.

Thanks, you type back. How is he?

You hesitate. You didn't really want to know the answer. Pierre was devastated and just as broken as you are. You delete the last part and opt to refrain from subjecting yourself to biting off more than you could chew.

I'm here if you need me, is Yuki's reply.

Charles, Daniel, and his newly promoted girlfriend were the next ones to text you, all offering varying degrees of support. Daniel's friend was the one that offered to sucker punch anyone that came near you without your permission, and actually dragged a single huff of laughter from your aching lungs.

I'm good thanks. But if I need a bodyguard you'll be first on the list.

Just because Daniel can lift me with one arm doesn't mean I'm not punchy!

I believe you.

Spent, you set your phone down and retreat under the down comforter. The bright pink clashed with your earthy decor, but at least the old blanket didn't smell like Pierre. Your mother had taken it upon herself to erase all trace of him from your room when she had managed to coax you into a shower, and the half hour you had spent letting the scalding water run over your skin had given her plenty of time to do so. The absence of him hurts almost as much as the trace of cedar you know you're imagining when you breathe deep.

It has to be impossible for so much agony to be contained in your body. No matter how much you try, the tears won't stop flowing because Pierre's crushed expression had taken up residence at the forefront of your consciousness. 

It didn't help that so many of your recent memories were touched by his presence. Getting into university served to remind you of the ecstatic call you'd gotten after his race that Sunday, voice strained with a mix of excitement for you and the disappointment of his race ending crash on the opening lap. Even something as simple as staring at the saggy bean bag chair in the corner brought back the memory of the countless times he had lounged there, sprawled out like he owned it.

Max's text brings you briefly back to reality.

You doing okay? Dan told me what happened.

No, was all you say back. Within a minute, Max's face occupies your screen. You sigh but accept the call, laying the phone on the pillow.

"I don't feel like talking, Max."

"That bad huh?" He asks, concern lacing his usually chipper voice.

"Yeah. That bad." As if that summed up getting your heart torn to shreds.

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. "Wanna hear about Vic's day? She had some crazy clients at her salon- it'll take your mind off it."

"I guess," you say, utterly nonplussed. You could care less if he kept talking or not, you wouldn't be paying attention. He prattles on for a few minutes, seemingly unaffected by your silence as his words pass through one ear and out the other.

"Told you it was crazy," he says finally, your cue to respond. You hum noncommittally and Max just sighs.

"Look, I don't know how I can help you unless you come here. I know you have a flight booked- do you still wanna come to the gala? My date's been stolen so I'm in need of one."

"Who stole your-"

The realization hits you before you can finish. Pierre. Pierre stole Max's sister and left him without a date. Something about his willingness to replace you so quickly rubs you the wrong way. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to find someone new; he should be hurting just as much as you. Fundamentally, you knew nothing would happen between Pierre and Victoria. She wouldn't go for him out of respect for both of you and you were thankful in the knowledge that it was completely platonic. Still, it was like rubbing salt in a wound. 

"You know what? I'll go." It was the most you'd said all day, your throat scratchy with disuse. Max whoops on the other line and you could almost see him punching the air in victory.

"Great! When's your flight get in? I'll bring the Acura and pick you up." 

You put him on speaker and login to the airlines website to punch in the flight number. Last night you'd debated canceling the flight that Pierre had paid for, determined to stay home and be miserable. Looking back you were glad you'd trusted your gut and left the reservation untouched. If he could find someone else to attend the gala with, so could you. "I land in Nice at noon on Friday. It'll be a short flight, I can text you when we take off."

"Sounds good. I'll set up the spare room for you. Victoria is staying here too, I'm sure she would love to help you get ready and do whatever it is girls do before fancy events."

"Hey, Max?"

"Whats up?"

You trace patterns through the condensation left by the glass on your nightstand. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," he assures you. "Is there anything you wanna talk about now? Or are you planning to wait until you're here?"

"Ben's been keeping an eye on me. I'm okay for now." Better now that you had something to look forward to.

"All you have to do is call," he promises. "I'll listen, I don't have anything going on this week besides streaming."

You latch on to the small redirection and run with it. "You and the twitch quartet?"

"They've been kind enough to allow me to join them on the sim this week, yeah."

"I'll try to catch a race. No promises though." 

"See you Friday. Try to contain your excitement."

Your lips twitch upward. "Bye Max."

**********

The rest of the week was more of the same. You stayed home and your family dealt with the swarms of people that still gathered on the lawn each morning not so patiently waiting for you to tell your side of the story. You had decided that the best course of action was to keep your mouth shut and let them figure out for themselves that there was no longer a story to report thanks to the wedge they had driven in your relationship.

By the time Ben drives you to the airport Friday the buzz has died down. You hug your brother tight before checking in for the flight and texting Max. His response is immediate, letting you know he's excited to see you.

You wish you could return the sentiment. You wanted to see your friend, sure, but you were beginning to dread the upcoming gala. Max would be your crutch and you knew he was okay with that, but it still felt wrong. 

Unlike your brother, Max was waiting at the curb when you arrived in Nice. A nondescript cap was perched on his head, the oversized sunglasses he wore hiding his eyes from passersby. His gleaming orange peel of a car attracted more attention than he did for once, people stopping to ogle the Acura as they came and went.

"Hey you," Max greets, a broad grin causing his trademark dimple to appear as he wraps you in a rare hug. You cling to him, throat going tight at the intimacy of it. Max wasn't a physical person by any stretch; if he was hugging you this tightly it meant he knew how broken you were.

He waited for you to break contact first, giving you all the time you need. You sniff and wipe the single tear that had somehow escaped and laugh lightly.

"Hey," you say, voice scratchy. "Thanks for picking me up." 

He waves a hand, brushing it off. "Vic wanted to come but she changed her mind when I told her I was driving."

"Probably a smart choice," you observe, letting him pop the trunk- which was in the front of the car, since the Acura NSX was a mid-engined beast of a Japanese supercar- "and considering your choice of car, she wouldn't have fit anyway."

"This is true." He starts the engine, the roar of which makes a poor old woman a few yards away drop her purse.

The drive back is near silent, broken only by Max's occasional quips about a landmark or an observation about someone's driving. It was impossible for any driver to turn off the analytical part of their brain, their Formula 1 habits crossing into their daily lives. 

When Max parks at the curb outside his apartment, you move to open the door but he hits the lock button. You glance over your shoulder at him and quirk a brow.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Are you gonna talk about what happened?"

Sighing, you sink back into the seat. The way the bolstering hugs your sides almost makes you believe you could fade into it if you try hard enough. "I wasn't really planning on it."

It had only been a handful of days since you had broken it off, the wound still leaking fresh blood when you poked at it. It refused to scab over or give you any kind of reprieve from the torture.

"You know you'll have to face him tomorrow at some point. He'll want to talk to you."

"That's why I'm going with you. You won't have a problem telling him to leave me alone."

Max sighs. "Yeah, I suppose. If that's what you think is best."

The trudge up the stairs and subsequent silent elevator ride allows your thoughts to wander to Victoria. It wasn't her fault that Pierre had asked her to come with him after you'd canceled, after all she was already planning on going and the late notice meant it was likely no one else could make it, but it didn't stop the pang of jealousy that rocketed through you each time you ruminate on it.

It didn't help when she wrapped you in a hug the moment she saw you and whispered an apology in your ear, like she knew she'd done something wrong. Tears spring to your eyes again and Victoria shoots Max a leave us alone look.

"Uh, I'm gonna hop on the sim. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Max." Your eyes are pinned to a smudge of dirt on the wood floor, safely out of range of anything triggering. Keeping it together was more of a struggle than you'd expected.

"I hope you don't hate me," Victoria starts genuine concern lacing the words. "It was just easiest-"

"I know," you cut in. "And I don't." Your smile is tight, not quite hitting home as she returns it.

"Well then. Let's figure out how we're gonna do your hair tomorrow, shall we?"

**********

The dress was a single, simple piece of fabric, spun of sunset orange and free of any bells or whistles. The feather light chiffon hugged every supple curve through your hips until flaring out slightly at the bottom just enough to allow you range of motion. The deep vee of the neckline prominently displayed your cleavage, toeing the line between attention grabbing and scandal starting and leaving little to the imagination. The back dropped low, leaving the elegant curve of your spine free to be kissed by the salty Mediterranean breeze.

The dress is nothing special compared to the thousand dollar pieces that the other boy's dates would be wearing, but you didn't have the money- or the will- to find something new. It by no means broke the bank when you picked it up from the second hand store last year, but it looked the part. It had been a showstopper at the spring formal you'd originally worn it to and judging by Max's reaction, it still was.

He let out a low whistle when you stepped into the living room. "I'm sorry, did you pick that out with me in mind?" He laughs and despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks. You hated being the center of attention, even among friends. "It's the perfect shade of orange to match my tie. I swear I didn't plan it that way!"

"I know you didn't." You give him a forced smile, praying he doesn't call you out on it. The dress you wore hadn't been your first choice. The one you originally planned to wear still sat in your closet at home collecting dust. It had been the perfect shade of blue to compliment Pierre's sky eyes, but it didn't match Max's deeper ocean blue. So at home it had stayed, and you had chosen the orange one because it made the necklace at your throat pop.

Your fingers engulf the stone before you can stop yourself, as they always do when your thoughts wander to him. Him, because you could scarcely think his name before your heart wretches at the reminder of what you'd lost. Flashes of bright smiles and soft kisses filter through your mind, making you lock up. You swear you can feel the ghost of plush lips to your throat and the scrape of callouses over the curve of your spine. Your eyes fall shut, desperate to get lost in the idea of him like you used to.

"You good?"

Max's quiet words startle you back into the present. No, you were in no way shape or form good, but you had no choice to fall back on the familiar mask of humor to cover up your inner turmoil.

"The real question is are you?" You smirk and look him over. The Red Bull navy suit strains over his broad shoulders, suggesting he had put on muscle since the last time he'd been forced into it. "You look stiff as a board in that tux."

"I feel so awkward." He straightens the suit coat and absentmindedly lifts a hand to tousle his hair. You grab his wrist just in time to keep him from ruining his sister's hard work and shoot him a chiding look. He grins sheepishly and lowers his hand.

"Vic would kill me if you got to the gala looking like you got run over." 

"That's a good point." He offers you his arm and you accept the lifeline he unwittingly offers you. "But I refuse to leave the windows up on this beautiful night, so we'll test how well it'll hold."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're driving us there?"

"Well duh. I always drive when I'm at home."

You glance sidelong at the glaringly orange Acura parked at the curb a few floors below. Your dress would blend right in with the paint, but perhaps that was a good thing. It would provide that much more of a shock factor when you arrived and stepped out.

"Just don't crash out on the hairpin," you tease half heartedly. 

He rolls his eyes. "At least it's just the two of us so I don't have to call an uber. Vic's getting picked up by-'' Max cuts himself off and gives you an apologetic smile.

"You can say his name," you whisper, eyes trained on the tile of the hallway as you walk. "It's not like he's gone."

"Getting picked up by... Pierre," Max tries, carefully monitoring his neutral tone. God, you thought you could handle it but you can't, stumbling over your own feet with only Max's grip on your arm to catch you.

He'd dance with Vic tonight, and probably countless other women, his hands drifting over their bodies like they'd done on yours only days ago. You'd be forced to watch from the sidelines and make small talk that no one would remember come morning, utterly unable to do anything about it. At least Daniel’s girlfriend would be there to be the voice of reason, if you could peel her away from Daniel long enough to speak with her for any length of time.

Max was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the venue, leaving you to study the city as he drove. Few yachts were left in the harbor as the sun was swallowed by the sea, the owners undoubtedly set sail for a weekend getaway. Your gaze involuntarily searched for the slip that held Charles' Ferrari red speedboat that you'd visited countless times with Pierre. The eyesore was hard to miss when surrounded by its monotone brethren, memories flooding back in droves at the sight of it.

Sighing, you turn away to glimpse what you can of the city through the ridiculously tiny sliver of windshield. How anyone could confidently drive the Acura while having so little field of vision was beyond you. It was probably second nature to Max, who weaves through the narrow streets with practiced ease and barely lets off the gas through the corners. 

The city of Monaco rarely slept, and tonight was no different. Soft yellow fluorescent glow seeps from high rise balconies, the occupants soaking up the last dregs of sunlight before heading out to the casinos and clubs. People spilled out of cafes onto the sidewalks, their laughter lingering on the breeze as you speed past.

The list of people you trust enough to get in the car with and let them drive with such intensity is short: Max and Pierre. Not even Daniel made the final cut, not when his then not-girlfriend had recounted the tale of him losing the rear of his McLaren 570s at a track day and nearly sending them into the wall. According to her, he'd been too busy ogling her to keep his full attention on the road, but it was enough for you to question his judgement at times.

If you close your eyes, you could pretend it was someone else next to you, cutting through the gears like a hot knife through butter and coaxing every inch of performance out of the car that he could with the light traffic. You draw a surf-scented breath deep, lungs aching with the effort. 

Max joins the queue of cars waiting to park outside the venue, your attention trained on the guests stepping out of cars and climbing the wide set of marble steps leading to the sleek glass building. The modern structure is slightly out of place among the Roman-esque buildings surrounding it but the air of importance it exudes overrules any who dare say it doesn't belong.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that there's an open bar," Max remarks, hanging his head out the window to wave at someone. "It makes these events so much easier."

"You're telling me," you mumble, searching involuntarily for a familiar head of dusty blond hair in the droves of people arriving. Instead of sight, it's the unforgettable rumble of his Civic Type R's exhaust that alerts you to his arrival. Your head whips around, eyes eating up the pearl white paint of Pierre's favored car as it slides in behind you. You silently thank whatever deity is listening that his windshield is tinted, protecting you from seeing the smirk you are certain is playing on his lips.

Once upon a time, the cockpit of that car had been your favorite place in the world. You'd spent countless hours inside it eating shitty gas station cuisine and singing along to the radio at the top of your lungs as Pierre drove you to whatever adventure he had planned for the day. 

Max waves at your- his friend, you remind yourself sharply- and revs his Acura in response. He leaves the keys with the valet, picking up on the tension in your shoulders as the white car parks behind you. Max tugs your arm in attempt to turn you away, but your feet are rooted to the spot. 

“I see you found another date-” The flash of a grin on Pierre's face as he steps out is immediately dashed when he notices you on Max's arm.

If looks could kill, Max would keel over then and there. A muscle in Pierre's jaw flutters as he takes in the sight of the two of you together, your hand on the Dutchman's forearm and your matching attire looking for all the world as if it was purposefully coordinated. 

Max lifts his chin, spine going straight under Pierre's threatening glare. “Her airfare was already paid for and she already had the dress. Someone had to take her.”

Your stomach sinks; the last thing you wanted to do was become a point of contention between the two boys, but you refused to apologize for at least attempting to enjoy yourself. 

Pierre doesn't speak again, only nods to Max and pointedly avoids your stare. He tosses the keys to the smart-dressed kid serving as his valet, coming around to open Victoria's door. With his back turned to you, you take a moment to study the crisp white suit he's chosen for tonight. You had always told him black wasn't his color and he seemed to have taken it to heart. White was what you loved seeing him in, and the tight cut brought back memories of a different type of suit in an entirely different city only a few weeks ago. You'd peeled him out of that Alpha Tauri race suit the moment he made it to the trailer, eager to worship him after his podium. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been the best sex of your life.

"Come on," Max urges, placing a chaste hand on your upper back and turning you around. He leads you up the stairs, his comforting touch never leaving your skin for a moment. The callouses were all wrong, the fingers too broad to be who you wanted it to be, and yet you couldn't help but imagine it was Pierre leading you up, stopping to smile for the few cameras scattered around.

Flashes spot your vision as you pull your face into an expression of excitement. Max murmurs something in your ear that you think is encouragement but the din of reporters is too deafening to be sure.

"How come you aren't with Pierre?"

The shouted question comes from an unknown assailant but it strikes you like a physical blow. You freeze, mouth going dry as you search for a suitable excuse. Max grants you the space of a single heartbeat to respond before he does so on your behalf.

"How about you mind your own damn business and worry about your cheating wife?"

The man who had bombarded you goes slack jawed, Max's wild guess clearly somehow hitting him just as hard as he had hit you.

"Keep walking," he urges you, leading you through the blinding sea of flashing lights. When you hear the same question directed at Pierre, his flippant laugh grates on your nerves.  

You don't have it in you to appreciate the grand architecture of the entrance hall, too busy trying to keep your breathing in check. Max steers you off to the side and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me," he demands, and you drag your eyes up to his face. "Breathe. He's hurting just as bad as you, only difference is he's better at hiding it. Just enjoy the night okay? I'll grab you a drink and we can find Daniel and his friend and you two can catch up."

You nod, placing a hand on your throat. The delicate chain of the necklace is a vice around your neck, the reminder of him pulling it tight. Your pulse hammers beneath your fingers and you focus on it until it slows. "Get me whatever you're having."

Max disappears in the crowd, and you take a seat at the bench tucked in the corner. No one pays you any heed as they walk past, entranced by the elegant decor and fragrant florals. Your head falls forward to rest in your hands and you struggle to take deep, calming breaths.

Pierre was here. Inhale.

He looked happy. Exhale.

He was getting by. Inhale.

You could get by, too. Exhale.

Renewed, you glance up in time to find Max standing before you with a drink of dark liquid adorned with maraschino cherries in each hand. He extends one glass to you and you don't bother to question what it is before swallowing half in one go. "Better?"

"Much." You stand and brush out the wrinkles in your dress. "Where are we sitting?"

"Er, about that," Max starts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They put two teams at each table. We're at the Red Bull Alpha Tauri table."

"I see." You take another deep, steadying breath, letting the anxiety ebbing in your veins fade out with the exhale. It was times like this that you channeled Daniel a bit. It sounded silly and you would never admit it, but the slogans on his helmets worked if you focused on them hard enough. All good, all ways.

If Pierre could get through tonight, so could you.

“I can try to see if I can switch tables-”

"It's fine," you say and down the rest of the drink. “I can handle it.”

Max shifts on his feet, his discomfort something you rarely see from him. He usually excelled at keeping a straight face in uncomfortable situations but it seems that your unease rubbed off on him. “We should get going then, dinner will be served any minute.”

You once again take the arm he offers you, the liquor in your veins already granting you false courage. “We would have time to mingle if you hadn’t taken the scenic route.”

“It was nice out,” he protests, and pulls you to a halt when he spots Daniel across the hall. His girlfriend waves at you with a sad smile. She gestures between the two of you to indicate that you’ll talk later before Daniel pulls her towards the McLaren table. That boy was punctual to a fault and would be caught dead before he was late to anything.

Thankfully, the two of you arrive before Victoria and her date and are able to secure seats that ensure there’s a buffer between you. By some small miracle Christian Horner and his wife were absent and instead a few engineers and their significant others sat at the packed table. Max greets Gianpiero while you take your seat, happy to observe.

“Hey!”

You twist in time to see Yuki’s short frame emerge from the crowd and point to the empty seat to your right. “This one taken?”

You shake your head, standing to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing? Where’s your date?”

“Ah, she couldn’t make it. Had some family stuff to take care of. You look great, by the way.”

You dip your chin in thanks, unsure how else to respond. He was in a white suit that you were sure would wind up stained five minutes into dinner. “Did they mandate that you wear white?”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Honestly, it’s the only one I own. I haven't been to enough events to build up my closet yet."

"Well I think it's…"

You spot Pierre before he sees you. His brow is slightly creased as he hunts for the correct table using the same focused determination as when driving his Alpha. For a split second, he meets your gaze. The cacophony of the event fades to background noise and suddenly it's just the two of you and you damn near lift your hand in a wave. You're positive he can see your heart beating out of your chest like in an old cartoon as you curl your fingers into a fist in your lap. Your restraint proves fatal, the floor falling out from beneath your feet when he drops your stare. This was your new normal, you remind yourself. Stolen glances were all you would get.

"I can move," Yuki says, starting to rise. You grip his wrist, holding him in place.

"Please don't." The only other open seats were across the table, and at least then you didn't have to worry about brushing elbows with him all night long.

Yuki nods, slowly settling back in. Max finally takes his seat after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"You don't have to say anything to him," he reminds you, barely audible over the scrape of chairs and various chatter.

You find anywhere else to look as Pierre pulls out Vic's chair for her and makes his rounds to greet everyone. Daniel and his girlfriend are seated a few tables away and you distract yourself by attempting to read their lips. You manage a few minutes of tenuous peace, catching snippets of Daniel's cheesy jokes and her disapproving, yet flirty, responses.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of home. His words are honey and you lap them up like you'd never tasted anything sweeter. They weren't even directed at you and yet somehow you twist them to fit your narrative.

Pierre stands at the bottom of the stairs like a chaste high school prom date patiently waiting for your grand entrance. He checks his watch and rakes a hand through his messy hair. You stifle your laugh with a hand, amused by his unnecessary nervous energy.

Taking mercy on him, you clear your throat. His gaze snaps up to you, mouth falling open. You take your time gathering the orange fabric of your dress and descending the stairs, savoring the way he eats you up. He was resplendent in his crisp white tuxedo and you had half a mind to make him late for the gala and strip him out of it then and there and devour him.

Your heels clack on the marble floor of his entirely too fancy apartment and you pause to do a little spin for him, earning you an appreciative whistle for your trouble. A laugh bubbles out of you and you place your hands on his shoulders. His own settle on your waist to pull you flush against him, his body heat soaking through the thin fabric of your dress to warm your core.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You start when knuckles graze the back of your bare neck. The touch is there and gone but you know immediately that it's Pierre. It's slight enough to be brushed off as accidental to anyone else, but nothing was accidental with Pierre. The barely there contact conveys more than any words ever could. 

He still loved you. You looked stunning. He wishes you were still his so he could prove it to you. All this and so much more contained in a half second brush of his skin to yours.

It all comes back to you in a rush, the emotion you'd so carefully tucked away in a locked box in the back of your mind finally set free. His touch ignites any other thought in your mind that isn't him, burning it away until it's ashes on the wind. 

Despite your better judgement, you lean into him, giving him permission to unravel you. This time you sigh when his fingers ghost over your skin, electricity sparking in their wake. You didn't care who might be watching; the tiny touches were slowly repairing your shattered heart. Your traitorous mind replaces his fingers with the brush of his lips to your nape, imagining the heat as he slides the strap of your dress off your shoulder, lips moving to follow.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan when his heat is withdrawn, leaving you feeling inexplicably naked. You open your eyes to find Victoria's pitying stare paired with an apologetic smile. Max nudges you with his elbow, and you realize someone has addressed you.

"Um, what?"

"I said I like how you guys coordinated outfits," Pierre repeats and openly prods your shoulder. "Obviously Max chose the color."

His tone is playful, but his words are clipped in a way only you understand. Craning your neck, you twist to look up at him. His eyes are cloudy and his smile doesn't reach them, more for show than anything else. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't look that way."

Your retort is ready on your tongue but he doesn't give you a chance to reply before retreating to his seat. His ability to act as if nothing has changed astounds you, as your head is still reeling from the pinpricks of his skin on yours. Instead of being rendered speechless, he strikes up a conversation with Yuki about the Alpha's performance, leaving out the confidential details but giving enough away that it surprises you.

The sheer fact that he can so easily switch off whatever feelings he harbors is unfair. The sensation of his fingers on your neck still lingers and it's all you can do to keep from stepping around the table and slotting yourself between his legs like you had in that bar in London. Your nails bite into your palms, listening in if only for his voice to wash over you and calm your racing heart.

When he mentions the rake angle, you know it's just to mislead anyone who might be eavesdropping. He'd told you the exact angle in the past, and it certainly was not one degree, and it did not cause the level of understeer he was describing.

"The understeer comes from improper tire selection," you blurt. "And driver error."

All eyes turn to you and you straighten. You knew enough about the construction of a Formula 1 car to be positive your assessment was correct. You were almost as certain that he'd said it to force you into speaking to him whether you liked it or not.

"What was that?"

If Pierre could torment you with his subtle touches, you could do the same and call him out when he was wrong.

"Driver error caused the rear end to slide out around that turn in Japan, not the rake angle. That's got nothing to do with it. Your tires were blistered because of you taking an imperfect racing line and they were old. You miscalculated the level of traction they'd give you."

Why no one else had pointed it out was beyond you.

"So you're an engineer now?" Pierre challenges, crossing his arms. Something about the arrogance radiating from him rubbed you the wrong way. You let all the emotion of the past few days surface and add fuel to the fire.

"No, but I've learned enough to see through the bullshit drivers spin to mislead other teams."

Max murmurs your name in warning but your frustration is boiling over. He replaced you tonight, didn't even pause to consider going alone and instead choosing to take Victoria. Sure, it had been your fault that he was dateless, but that didn't give him the right to hurt you too. He knew it would destroy you to see him with anyone else even if it was completely platonic, but he did it anyway.

"Why don't you tell me where I should brake on turn ten since you're an expert all of a sudden?" Victoria lays a hand on his arm but he yanks it out of her grip. "What crack in the pavement? Or is it a mark on the barrier? Drive one lap in my car and then you can tell me how to drive."

It wasn't your analysis that had upset him. You'd done so plenty of times and he had always taken your criticism with an open mind, using it to tweak his driving style to improve his lap time or turn it into a teaching experience so you could learn. No, judging by the way his eyes are lined with silver that he fights to blink away, it's your betrayal that upsets him and rightfully so. You glance around the table but no one is willing to meet your eyes save for Max, who angles his head as if to say fight for it.

But you can't. It's monumentally easier to let Pierre win and sweep it under the rug than to address the deeper issue. "I was trying to help," you say lamely, picking at the salad in front of you.

"You don't get to do that anymore."

The venomous words hit like knives, knocking the breath out of you. Your mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air but any reply you think up dies on your tongue.

As the music fades out and a man climbs up onto the stage, Pierre gets up and leaves. You track his progress as he weaves through tables, noting Daniel reaching for him as he passes. You flinch when the balcony door slams behind him, an astonished murmur rocking through the crowd.

"You should probably talk to him," Max whispers.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You had no idea what you would say. 'Sorry' was insignificant and 'I love you' would be cruel when the barest of thought regarding how the media treated you made your stomach churn. 

Max pulls his phone out under the table and you think you see Charles' name on the screen. Good; someone had to make sure Pierre didn't do anything he would regret in the morning and if it wasn't you, Charles was the next best chaperone. A minute later, the Ferrari driver leaves his seat too, exiting the same way as Pierre. 

Focusing on what's said on stage proves fruitless. Try as you might, your attention is trained on the side door Pierre had disappeared through, praying he returns despite knowing it would mean more barbed words hurled at you. Neither he nor Charles return at any point during the presentation. His absence was quickly becoming a gaping black hole, swallowing up any semblance of sanity you had managed to gather in preparation for tonight.

"Try to have some fun," Max says, nudging you with an elbow. "As soon as this guy shuts up I’ll get us some more drinks and then we can eat and get out on the dance floor and forget about everything, yeah?"

You nod. You already feel the buzz of the first drink, and one or two more would push you thoroughly over the edge into blissful forgetfulness. "I don't wanna be sad anymore."

**********

He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from you before he said something that would tear whatever hope he held of repairing what was between you to ribbons. He registers Daniel's low, "Gas, you good?" as he breezes past, but doesn't pause to answer. His sights are locked on the wide, carved oak doors that lead to fresh air.

The breath whooshes out of him when he flings open the balcony doors. They slam behind him and he winces. Chalk that up as something else for Helmut to pick him apart for on Monday.

Pierre rakes a trembling hand through his hair and rests his elbows on the railing, sucking in lungfuls of air like he'd just surfaced from a dive in the harbor. 

When you'd agreed to come to the gala with him, he had been overjoyed. You hadn't made it to the winter gala earlier this year due to a last minute exam and he had sulked the entire night. He still had the place card embossed with your name in the fishbowl by his door, the sizable container nearly overflowing with memories of you. Everything from forgotten earrings to plastic hotel key cards filled the bowl and it was a bright reminder of your adventures together. His plan had been to add another place card to the mix after tonight but after what he'd just said to you, he'd rather forget today ever happened. 

He fucking hurt. Everything just hurt, from the shirt collar scratching at his neck to the bone deep ache that had started when he laid eyes on you on those steps, arm locked with Max's. You'd stolen the words from his mouth, the jab he'd planned to toss at Max dying at the sight of you. 

He hadn't expected you to come tonight. Despite anyone's objections, he'd been fully prepared to get completely shit faced to the point that the ghost of your skin no longer haunted his fingertips and your voice no longer sang in his head. But seeing your damned face had shattered the false reality he had constructed, the one where you never broke him and left him scrambling to piece himself back together.

The universe had dealt him another low blow when he discovered Red Bull and Alpha Tauri would be at the same table and he'd be forced to endure your presence at arms length, close enough to touch but absolutely not allowed to do so. It was his own personal hell, constructed solely to punish him for whatever transgressions he'd made in his life.

And that fucking dress. 

The orange painted the aquamarine charm at the hollow of your throat in sharp relief, showing it off like he somehow still owned you. If you had arrived with him, he would have already led you back to the Civic and bunched that damned dress up past your hips to drag his favorite sounds from you with his tongue. If he could just get you alone, he's sure it wouldn't take more than a single touch to have you crashing into him and begging for more.

Seeing you with Max tonight paints an entirely different picture.

It's Max he sees tearing off the dress at the end of the night when you get back to his apartment. Max's hands slide over your hips and you laugh, walking back so you can keep your lips on his as he slams the door shut behind you. You dip your head back when he presses you to the wall, Max unfaltering as his lips and teeth trace the curve of your exposed throat and he slips the straps of the matching dress of your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Max's name breezes past your lips on a shaky exhale as you become putty beneath his fingers.

No matter how loud Pierre calls your name, you don't hear him, instead cupping the back of the Dutchman's head and pulling him in for a heated kiss. When you do finally notice him observing from afar, agony wracking his body, all you do is grin. It feels real, even though Pierre is certain it's a crazed fever dream, his mind spinning his worst fear to life: you seeking comfort in the company of someone that wasn't him.

Pierre starts when the door squeaks open, the nightmare thankfully dissolving. Charles steps out clad head to toe in blazing Ferrari red and instantly he knows who sent him. The thought alone stokes rage in his chest, the image of your lips on Max's still fresh.

"Not as easy as you expected it to be, is it?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fuck off," Pierre growls and immediately regrets it. Beyond you, Charles was his closest friend. They had known each other for ages. It wasn’t a friendship he was willing to sacrifice just because he felt like shit. Pierre sighs and throws him an apologetic glance. "No it's not."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to fucking talk, Charles. Take one look at her, she's hanging on Max like she can't get enough of him." Pierre hangs his head in his hands, emotions shifting faster than he did on race day. "I can't go back in there and watch her choose him over me."

"You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?" Charles asks, joining him at the railing.

Not entirely, but he still struggled to understand your thought process. He thought he knew you, but you being here tonight when he had been certain you wouldn't be proved he didn't. 

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought it would be forever, that I'd finally found someone who didn't mind my lifestyle and accepted it for what it was, who loved me unconditionally. I thought she was my forever."

"You think she's done with you just because some assholes invaded her privacy?" Charles shakes his head. "She's loved you for a long time, years even. You haven't seen the looks she gives you, but the rest of us have. You hung the moon in her sky, Pierre. That kind of thing doesn't just get swept away by the breeze."

His shoulders curl inward in an attempt to hide the frustrated tear that escapes him. "What am I supposed to do?"

Charles shrugs. "I don't think there's a right answer to that. Try giving her some space. She didn't grow up in the spotlight like we did. It's not an easy adjustment for some people, mate. And blowing up on her when she tries to make conversation doesn't help anything," he says gently. "Let her figure it out and come to you when she's ready."

The concept of letting you go even temporarily was terrifying to him. Waiting on you to make the first move was even worse because he was setting his fate in your hands. 

"I miss her," he murmurs, turning his face to his friend.

"I know." Charles throws an arm around the taller man's shoulders and follows his gaze out over the tiered streets of Monaco's city center. "My suggestion is to throw yourself into the season. Show her you know how to fight, y'know?"

Pierre nods. He could do that. It was how he normally handled his problems anyway; let the track wick away whatever was on his mind and force him to hone in on the details surrounding him in each moment. 

"You ready to head inside?" Charles asks.

"I don't think I can go back just yet."

"Want me to hang out here with you?"

"No. I'll be back eventually."

Charles' hand falls from his shoulder after a short squeeze, the sound of a tinny voice over the speakers temporarily flooding the balcony as Charles returns to the banquet. Pierre allows himself a few more moments of reprieve before slipping back inside just as the applause starts. Rather than returning to the delicately portioned meal that sat cooling before his empty chair, he orders a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, his go to in times of crisis. He takes one sip before the reminder of you ordering it for him in London makes holding the glass of caramel liquid unbearable and he downs it in a single swallow, going back to order a beer instead.

He nurses the green bottle of Heineken as he leans against the wall until the meal is finished and the chit chat starts. You stand with Max, practically pressed against him as you snatch a flute of champagne from a passing server. You search the crowd, brows drawing together when you don't locate your quarry. Pierre had made sure that he was tucked out of the low lighting, unsure if he could survive you stealing worried glances at him all night. 

Charles winds his way over to pass off a roll he snagged from dinner, practically forcing the Frenchman to eat it before returning to his date. He nibbles at it absentmindedly, entirely too focused on you to divert an ounce of focus elsewhere.

Your dress is a glowing sun in a sea of earth tone garments, drawing his eye as you pull Max out onto the wood platform serving as the dance floor before the tables are fully cleared. The flush in your cheeks tells him you're deeper in your cups than you should be; Max didn't know your limit as well as he did. Three drinks was all you could manage before you got tipsy, five if you wanted to be completely blitzed. 

The lights dim and his hiding spot is no longer quite as good as the party lights sweep over him from time to time. Max places one hand on your hip and you place one on his shoulder and grin up at him. Judging by the fit of giggles that requires you to lean into Max for support, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of being wholly drunk. You throw your head back and laugh at whatever Max says in response to your fit, Pierre straining to hear the musical sound over the band. 

"Hey," Victoria says, breaking his concentration. "You wanna get out there?"

Pierre grimaces. He had managed to completely forget about her, too stuck in his own head. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I'd be a very good partner tonight."

"No worries," she says, a soft, understanding smile on her lips. "I can keep myself busy."

Pierre nods his thanks, his attention immediately returning to the dance floor. Daniel and his girlfriend steal the show, both laughing as he dips and twirls her across the floor. 

Being together was so fucking easy for them, effortless in a way it wasn't for you and Pierre. They never once paid any heed to the photographers that swarmed them or the headlines printed about them, they just laughed the rumors off and carried on. No one could question their love for each other because they were vocal about it- sometimes annoyingly so- and Daniel was rarely seen in public without her at his side. They were always touching, holding hands or stealing kisses or even the near scandal of his hand blatantly on her ass at the podium a few races back, and neither of them cared.

Their love was all that mattered. They didn't care who knew it.

But you and Pierre were far too private to be like that, at least not when you were still trying to figure things out yourself. The first sign of outside pressure had you cracking, and he wouldn't stand for knowing he was the source of your pain.

He tries and fails to convince himself he isn't jealous of the way Dan's hand so easily glides under the navy blue silk of her dress to caress her back without a second thought, wishing he could do the same to you. If he's being honest, he's living vicariously through Daniel for the next few songs, pretending he was someone else observing you and himself on the dance floor instead. It almost works; the way she shudders when his lips graze her ear is strikingly similar to how you'd react. The smile she flashes up at him is agonizingly close to your own wicked grin.

When her mouth finds his, Pierre gathers his wits and turns away. Their blatant public affection flipped a switch inside him, disgust rocking through him for a split second before he pushed it away.

He was happy for them. He knew what a long, rocky road it had been for them to become lovers instead of friends, had firsthand knowledge of the stress they'd gone through before they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, put their pride aside and got together. Pierre had been the one to offer her advice on a night not much different than this one months ago, helping repair the damage Daniel's idiotic, thoughtless words had caused. 

But Pierre had since become the person who was sickened at the sight of others in love. It reminded him that part of himself was missing and he hated it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering back to you. You still occasionally scan the room as Max struggles to lead you through a dance. By some stroke of bad luck your gaze snags on him just as a spotlight illuminates his face and he grimaces. A slow blink is the only surprise you let show before laying your head on Max's shoulder. Jealousy spikes through him like wildfire, igniting his blood and tinging his vision with red.

He wants to march over and rip you off Max. He wants you tucked safely against him as his thumb rubs circles on the bare skin of the small of your back. He wants, more than anything, to take you to his apartment and half carry you up the stairs, having to shush you because you're giggling loud enough to wake the dead, and lay you down in his bed. He wants to help you out of that stunning dress and into a pair of his sweats and curl up against you, letting you sleep off your hangover until noon.

He'd fucked up that chance though, hadn't he? He had slipped up and driven you straight into your friend's arms, who he trusted not to make a move on you but not enough to negate the jealousy coursing through him.

In that moment, he hates you. He hates the hold you have on him, the way a simple gesture between half-drunk friends could send him into a spiral so steep he didn't recognize himself. He hates that he can't keep his eyes off you, your gravity too strong for him to resist.

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t know how to quit you.

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max​ @sunshinesewis​ @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval 

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 4

Will

Cult girl attends her grandmother's funeral and is approached with a highly unorthodox last will and testament.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: emotional manipulation and abuse, verbal abuse, death, slight emetophobia, body-shaming, ED mention, pregnancy and family planning

There was no use recounting anything from the leading up to the funeral. You spent that first night wine-drunk, munching on foie gras, watching Arrested Development and diagnosing each character to the best of your psychological abilities. You remembered cry-laughing at the same jokes you had memorized, and reminiscing on all the insane shit your own personal Lucille Bluth pulled on you. That was the highlight of the week. It was all downhill from there. 

Firstly, you were sick. That Sunday, you wrote it off as a hangover. Then, the hangover returned with a vengeance, just to add salt to the already open wound of having to pretend to mourn your abusive grandmother. At least the physical pain would give your acting an air of sincerity, you thought. 

Hannibal dressed in a solid black tux: it was almost uncanny to see him outside of any of his normal checkered suits. You selected a plain black dress and a strand of pearls.

The funeral was to be held at the same country club Anna’s wedding was held. Your grandmother was like a pharaoh, insisting that the empire she built know that even in death, she reigned supreme. The country club was her pyramid. 

Anna asked if you wanted to say a few words. As much as you wanted to get up and tell all her country club friends about the time she reported you as an abducted child at age twenty-two when you refused to leave your boyfriend and move back in with her, you knew that it wasn’t in good taste. You racked your brain for any story that could be considered remotely funeral-appropriate, but none came to mind. 

You spent the entire funeral trying not to roll your eyes too obviously at the stories of abuse her country club friends somehow remembered fondly. Your soul just left your body throughout the entire process and you were unsure if it would ever return. 

All things considered, it could have gone much worse. Then, it did. 

The beginning of the end was when your grandmother’s estate lawyer pulled you and Anna aside to conduct the reading of the will. He showed you to a side room, then excused himself before closing the door behind him. 

“Hello, [F/N].” Liam greeted, trying to cut through the awkward silence that came with first seeing each other after four straight years. “I’m very sorry about your gran. She was a great woman.” 

You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Lee. I appreciate it.” 

“No she doesn’t.” Anna muttered. “And it’s Liam.” 

“I don’t mind ‘Lee’.” Liam contested. “My mum called me Lee. I actually quite like it.” 

Anna was in one of her ‘I’m so upset, please ask me why’ moods. She sat on one of the heavy armchairs with her legs crossed and eyes to the wall. You weren’t going to bite. 

Liam wasn’t so cautious. “Princess, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” She pouted, not even dignifying her husband with a look. “I just think it’s interesting that I put the funeral together all by myself and someone couldn’t even be bothered to speak.” 

You shot Liam a look that said ‘way to go, jackass’. 

“Yeah,” You said, sitting down in an adjacent armchair. “That must suck.” 

Anna glared at you. “You really have nothing to say? Really?” 

You tensed up. “Let’s see, which charming anecdote would you have me tell? How about that time when she made you wear a fat suit for an hour after you complained about how the low-carb ice cream tasted like chemicals?” 

Liam looked in shock at his wife. “Did she really?” 

“Once.” Anna confessed, holding up one finger. 

You turned to Liam, as if you were sharing some hot gossip. “That was all it took to give her an eating disorder when she was thirteen.” 

Hannibal was just a fly on the wall. Anna noticed his lack of reaction. 

“And I bet Hannibal knows all about this, huh?” Anna said, throwing her hand in his direction. “Because he just needs to hear all of our private family business, right?” 

You stood up from your seat. “First of all, I take offense at the implication that my fiancée isn’t family.” 

An evil smile spread on Anna’s face. “But he wasn’t always your fiancé, was he, [F/N]?” 

“Holy shit, you cracked the code.” You said, flatly. “There was a point in time when Hannibal and I weren’t an item. Real shocker, that one.” 

“You know what I mean.” She sneered, then approached Hannibal. “Dr. Lecter, is it true that before you and [F/N] became romantically involved, you were her therapist?” 

Liam looked scandalized. Hannibal was just as put-together as always. 

“That is true.” He said, feeling no shame whatsoever. 

Anna turned back to you. “Now don’t you think that’s just a smidge unethical? For a therapist to date their much younger patient?” 

You narrowed your eyes. You carried yourself with the lightness of a woman who finally had the moral high ground. “So you want to talk about what’s ethical, huh? I suppose that means you’ve told Liam about pineapple.”

All the blood drained from her face. You crossed your arms and held your head up a little higher. 

“That’s what I thought.” You grinned. 

“Look, could we just pretend to be a normal, functioning family for ten minutes?” Anna pleaded, as if there were anyone other than herself to blame for provoking an argument.

“That’s on you two.” Liam, rightfully, pointed out. He gestured to himself and then to Hannibal. “Neither of us have said anything.” 

The estate lawyer must have gotten his juris doctorate alongside a master's in impeccable fucking timing, because that was when he decided to make his entrance.

"I'm sorry for the wait, everyone." He announced. "And I'm sorry for having to pull you aside in your hour of mourning. Usually the last will and testament is handled through email to the beneficiaries, but your grandmother was quite adamant it be approached this way."

"That definitely sounds like her." You said, exchanging glances with Hannibal. You'd talked about this for what felt like hours the week prior. She was going to pull some last-minute bullshit to humiliate you from beyond the grave. Give all the inheritance to Anna and leave a snide comment about you in a legal document. You knew it was coming. All you could hope was for it to be quick.

The lawyer pulled an envelope from his briefcase. "She specifically asked for her two living grandchildren and their significant others to be present."

"Did she say it like that?" Anna raised an eyebrow. "Or was it more like, 'Anna and her husband, and [F/N] and her therapist'?"

"Mrs. Young," Hannibal said, taking your hand. "Until you tell your husband about pineapple, you aren't allowed to judge us."

Anna glared at you. "What the hell? He knows, too?!"

"Yeah." You answered. "I tell him everything."

"Okay, who or what is pineapple?" Liam interjected. "And why do I get the feeling I'm the only one not in the know, here?"

"That's cause you are." You confirmed. "And you have your lovely wife to thank for that."

"Everyone!" The lawyer called out. Clearly, he'd seen his share of dysfunctional families. "Please, let me just read the will and you can continue arguing afterwards."

"Y'know what? Fair enough." You said, crossing your legs. "Let's rip off this band-aid, shall we?"

The lawyer opened the envelope and produced a single page. He cleared his throat.

"I, Beatrice [L/N], being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath all my worldly possessions-" He began reading the long first sentence. "Including but not limited to, a collective sum of $45 million, the family home and my shares of the country club, to the first of my granddaughters to give birth."

You expected nothing. You expected something. But you never could have expected this.

"Can you please read that last part again?" You asked, unsure if what you heard was the result of a stroke.

"The entire inheritance goes to the first one of you to have a baby." The lawyer clarified, trying to make it sound like a reasonable arrangement.

"That makes sense." Anna said, nodding.

You looked at her, dumbfounded. "How in the fuck on fire does that make sense to you?"

"Well, the money would be going to a good cause." She rationalized. "To raise the baby, right?"

You shook your head. "No, this is insane. Grandma has always had this weird obsession with bloodlines, and now she's trying to incentivize us to carry it out."

"What happens if neither of us can, y'know?" Anna asked.

The lawyer pushed his glasses up his nose. "If neither granddaughter is willing to produce a child, the entire inheritance will go to the Eagle Forum, so my ungrateful grandchildren can learn about family values."

"She hated the Eagle Forum!" Anna objected. "She wouldn't dare."

"She absolutely would." You pressed your fingers into your forehead. "That's upper-class white moderates for you. And she doesn't have to be around to see when they name a fucking wing after her."

"The Beatrice [L/N] center for denying women bodily autonomy." Hannibal said. "It's quite fitting."

"[F/N], we can't let that happen." Anna pleaded. "We can't let Eagle Forum get a penny of that money."

"Why the hell not?" You said. Though on principle, you agreed, you knew this was just another one of your grandmother's power grabs. At the end of the day, she chose to leave her money to the Eagle Forum. And it would be her name on that check, not yours.

"Oh my god, you actually hate babies more than you hate conservatives." Anna stood with her mouth agape.

"Don't put words in my mouth." You snapped. "I don't hate babies. I hate grandma for trying to threaten me into having one. I hate grandma for pinning us against each other and making sure it stays that way."

"What do you have against giving me a little niece or nephew, huh?" Anna folded her arms.

"I'm fucking done." You said, throwing up your hands. "This will be the last you ever see of me."

Of course, that's what you said the last time.

[buckyownsmylife]

Electric Feel - Tom Hiddleston smut

The one where Tom moved in to help you, but you end up helping each other.

Warnings: porn with a very unecessary and minimal plot, smut, dom!female, sub!Tom, masturbation (m), oral sex (f), mistress kink, brief mention of a stalker, actress!reader

Word count: 2k<

A/N: This is so small compared to everything @just-the-hiddles​ deserves, but it’s her birthday and I just couldn’t let it go by without a token of my gratitude, love and admiration! Happy birthday, Liz! I hope you know how much I care about you! ALSO: unedited for the moment because I just started and finished this entire thing in the last six hours when I should be studying but oh well.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I didn’t remember stopping to think for a single second ever since I saw the news. My fingers acted on their own accord, hitting those numbers I had memorized so long ago, raising the phone to my ear as I waited for her to pick up.

“Hello?” Hearing her voice didn’t calm me down like I expected it would. I realized then, I’d only feel tranquil once more when I could see her with my own eyes, touch her skin, feel her warmth.

“Darling? How are you?” I still asked, almost automatically, and if I had hoped she would at least be well enough to pretend to be okay, the sharp inhale that preceded her burst into tears shattered that illusion in a second. “I’m on my way.”

And that was how I ended up in her house in what felt like the blink of an eye. The trip there could have lasted days - all that mattered was that the second I had my arms wrapped around her, everything felt alright again.

“It’s okay,” I soothed her, but it was probably better directed at myself. “I’m here now.” It took at least a day before I was comfortable enough to ask her about it. “How did they find the guy?” When she latched onto a detailed explanation of the events from the last week, how she’d started receiving random death threats that suddenly weren’t so random anymore, I felt almost like I wasn’t even there, but floating over the living room, watching us talk from the outside looking in.

I held her close for a long time after that, unable to admit even to myself that not feeling her body against mine made me feel empty and weak. And so the feeling of protectiveness stirred awake inside of me - or maybe it had been there all along, I just failed to acknowledge it.

All I knew was that inserting myself into Y/N’s daily life was much easier than I ever expected it to be. And even if I told both her and myself that this was for her own safety, because she needed someone around until she felt comfortable by herself again, I knew it was more for my own benefit than anything else.

I just didn’t anticipate it would make my feelings that much harder to deal with. Did I know that I wanted her? Yes, maybe even ever since we’d met. And as our friendship progressed and we became closer, I saw that desire develop into something deeper, more solid. Still, I stupidly believed it was nothing more than a crush, and I’d be able to pretend it didn’t exist and get on with my life day after day like it wasn’t there.

Now that my days began and ended with her, I was highly aware of my mistake.

“Tommy,” she called out, making me lift my eyes from the tv and fall on her and the dog she currently tried to control. “I’m going to take her for a walk, okay?” I sat up automatically, ready to join her, when I felt a hand over my shoulder, gently pushing me back against the sofa.

“C’mon, finish the movie!” She admonished, a knowing grin on her face. “I think there’s a scene coming up with someone you particularly enjoy. I’m just going into the backyard, no need to worry.”

Even though I stayed seated where she’d left me, my eyes trailed over her figure as she disappeared inside the kitchen, until I heard the backdoor close. Despite knowing there was no possible immediate danger to her inside the boundaries of her own home, I couldn’t help but worry.

That was until a moan caught my attention, bringing it back to the tv once more. It sounded so familiar and so foreign at the same time, I was instantly intrigued, eyebrows furrowed as I struggled to identify the young woman that was being so brutally fucked by the main protagonist in a dark club.

My mouth hang open once the lighting changed and her face became recognizable, those same alluring features tempting me just as much as they tempted the character on the screen. So this was what she meant, I didn’t even know she was on this movie when I first picked it out. 

I could feel my member hardening inside my sweatpants as her beautiful, melodic voice kept tempting me, and I grit my teeth as I chanced a glance at the kitchen, wondering how long I had before she was back. Not enough, I knew that. Still, looking down at my crotch made me believe it was worth at least a try, because the alternative was her surely seeing just how affected her little scene had made me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The silence in the living room was my first indication that something was different, and as I stepped foot in the place where I’d left Tom not even five minutes ago, I realized my intuition was right - he’d abandoned the movie and left me alone in the main floor of the house.

Maybe he wanted to take a shower, or answer a call? I didn’t know, but I figured I should let him know I was back before he got worried, so I climbed up the stairs two at a time before stopping in front of the guest room he’d been staying in, suddenly frozen by what I heard.

“Y/N…” It was my name, breathed out in a whiney, raspy moan that left me no doubt over what was happening behind the door I now clutched so tightly. My mind drifted back to the movie we’d been watching, the scene I knew he’d see. Had I been the cause for his arousal?

My body acted of its own accord, the week of emotional tension before he arrived, replaced by the sexual energy that was always present whenever he was around finally getting the best of me. 

I opened the door. His hand was curled around a large member, the sight of which had me whimpering as I clenched my thighs together, alerting me of my entrance. His eyes, which were closed, immediately widened upon seeing me, and he tried to cover his erection with both hands, even if it was obviously not possible to do so. 

“Why are you shy?” I asked, head tilted as I analyzed the man before me, my mouth watering at the sight. I was desperate to give in to this desire, let go of the fears and anxieties that had been clawing at me ever since the first message arrived, and so I climbed on the bed like he was my prey, determined to make him crack and admit his own attraction to me.

“You called my name,” I noticed once I was on his lap, eyes taking inventory of every inch of pretty skin I couldn’t wait to bruise. “Don’t you want me?” At the sound of the insecurity in my voice, he jolted, eager to show that there wasn’t a reason for there to be any.

“Of course I do.” Smiling, I hummed appreciatively as I licked my lips, eyes darting down and seeing that he still hadn’t resumed his movements on his cock, even though it clearly needed some attention.

“Then why don’t you touch yourself while I suck little lovebites all over you huh?” Finally, I enveloped his pink lips with mine, eager to taste them, touch his tongue with mine. But I needed to see him cum way too badly, and I craved the control I knew I could exercise with him.

So I forced myself to pull away, laying kisses down his jaw until I reached his neck, starting to bite and suck there at the sound of his whines. Below us, I noticed he had started jerking off again, although hesitantly, and so I covered his hand with mine and forced him to get back to his previous pace.

“Show me how much you desired me,” I ordered, as he instantly fought back, “Kiss me again.” It was such a sweet request, and particularly in the breathless tone he tried to make petulant, it made me even more excited to play with the man I had wanted for so long. 

“But do you really deserve another kiss?” I taunted, pressing them on his chest, on his biceps, anywhere other than his lips. He was breathing through his mouth now, long deep sighs being interjected by his moans and whines, and it all went straight to my panties. 

“Yes,” he insisted, hand tightening around himself and a delicious blush spreading over his chest as I sat back on by heels to judge the hauntingly tempting image before me. He bit his lower lips in an effort to hold back his own sounds, but as I got rid of my clothes, his efforts proved fruitless, and a wanting cry escaped his throat as I forced him to quicken his movements once more.

“Oh, I see…” I wasn’t done teasing him, not by a long shot. “You’ve wanted me all along, haven’t you?” All he could do was nod, and I could see the underlying shyness in his reluctance to admit it. 

“Well, I’ve wanted you too, baby. And right now, I want to suck you off until my jaw is sore, how does that sound like?” Another moan was all I got as a response, making me smile wider than I’d ever done before.

“But I don’t think you’ve earned it yet. So for now, all I’ll let you do is keep touching yourself while you suck on my tits, how about that?” His eyelids were heavy when he looked at me, having to throw his head back to be able to meet my eyes.

“Fuck… It’s… perfect.” I cooed at how wrecked he looked like, even with how little I’d touched him, my navel brushing his member briefly as we adjusted ourselves so he could wrap his lips around my nipple.

“Oh…” I gasped in delight as tingles raised up my spine at the pleasant sensation, and between us, I could feel his movements growing more desperate as my moans replaced his in the otherwise silent bedroom.

When I felt him spill all over my stomach, I pulled him away from my chest by my grip on his locks, finally giving him what he wanted and capturing his lips with mine once more. “Hmm…” I moaned once we parted and I’d scooped some of his release to give it a taste. “So sweet.”

Tom was looking at me like I was some sort of extraterrestrial being, chest visibly heaving in his effort to keep breathing. “Can I taste you know?” He at last managed to ask, and I pretended to think, before gently nudging him out of the bed and onto the floor. 

“Yes,” I approved, wrapping his curls around my fingers again before bringing him down to the apex of my thighs, moaning as his tongue eagerly plunged inside of me, eager to get acquainted with the most intimate part of my body. “Who would have known you could be such a submissive little thing, huh?”

When he raised his head to answer, just the sight of my wetness dripping from the lower part of his face had my heart skipping a beat. “You should have known… A single word from you and I’d drop to my knees and worship you like you deserve… Mistress.”

[mochiable]

— enough. (a)

REQUESTED — hello!! i really like your work and how you write. could i request a scenario about han jisung cheating on reader and her forgiving him every time but then she can’t stay with him anymore and they have a big fight? sorry if it’s so specific, but i think you’d do a great work with this! i’ll understand if you don’t want to do it though, have a nice day!

wc: 1.7k

warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of cheating, swearing, emotional pain

requests are open!

you were fed up. jisung kept shouting your name in the distance, but you didn't want to know any more, you didn't want to hear any more. you were tired of everyone taking you for a naïve fool who didn't realise what was going on around you. ‘poor thing, she has no idea he slept with five other girls’, ‘i feel so sorry for her, how come she's still with him?’ you didn't know, you really didn't know how you could still be with him. maybe they were all right, you were a sucker, but that was going to change, you weren't going to put up with any more humiliation, and much less coming from him.

as soon as you arrived at the flat you shared with your now ex-boyfriend, you locked yourself in your room and took your suitcase out of the wardrobe to start storing your most necessary belongings. you didn't know where you were going to go, you didn't want to bother anyone, but it was either that or sleep in the street or stay in a forty square metre flat with the person you least wanted to see right now. either of the first two options was better than the third one, anyways.

when you finished putting all your clothes away and headed to the bathroom to pick up your make-up and all your creams you heard the front door open loudly and as hurried footsteps followed by several curses headed towards the bedroom.

“what are you doing?” the dark-haired boy asked watching you from the bathroom door, looking through the mirror as you put all the products in your vanity case, hands trembling and clutching things tightly.

“dancing a tango, wanna be my partner?” you replied sarcastically, taking all the courage you had left and turning around to face him, “what the fuck do you think I'm doing, jisung? i’m leaving,” you spat angrily, moving towards the door and bumping your shoulder against his to walk back into the room.

“no, no, no,” he repeated, shaking his head repeatedly as he moved closer to you and tried to get your attention, “listen to me, please listen to me," he pleaded, reaching up to you and turning your face to his with his hands on your cheeks, “it’s not what it looks like, i swear.”

“isn't it? let me guess," you began, bringing your hands up to his and roughly pulling them away from your face, “was it her who kissed you? or maybe, oh, i know, you drank too much and couldn't control yourself?” you roared angrily, pushing him hard in the chest, pushing him two metres away from you, “fuck you, jisung! i’ve had it. you've done nothing but humiliate and despise me. fuck, why can't you take me seriously for once? am i a joke to you, huh? is that it? do you think i’m so deluded as to cheat on me not just once but five times? do you enjoy watching me being mocked and laughed at behind my back? ‘oh poor girl, her boyfriend cheats on her and she keeps chasing after him like an idiot because she can't stand on her own two feet’!”

at first, your age difference was the reason for thousands of messages and threats directed at you. you were only three years older than him, and he was already an adult, you didn't see the problem, you both loved each other, or so you thought. the comments soon went from ‘old predator whore’ to ‘dumb slutty little girl’. you had to put up with how they came on to your boyfriend, and how he did nothing, smiled and even flirted back. however, when a boy came up to you, he seemed to wake up and didn't hesitate to shoo him away.

“no, that's not true. please, y/n,” he came back to you with a desperate expression on his face, managing to cradle your cheeks again and wipe away the tears you hadn't realised were falling from your eyes, “of course i take you seriously, darling. you're my everything. they're lying, i swear, y/n. i’d never do that to you, you have to believe me.”

you pushed him away from you again, and ran your hands through your hair, tousling it and burying your face in your hands. the moment you looked up again, you found your face reflected in the small mirror of the canterano in the room. a haggard, weak, sultry face. you dropped onto the bed, you were exhausted and you knew that this argument had only just begun.

“enough, enough,” you murmured, holding back the sob that was about to escape your throat, “stop lying, just stop! you don't love me, jisung. you never have and you never will. why do you want to keep me here if all you do is make me suffer?”

“no, that’s not true. i do love you, y/n,” he replied softly, crouching down in front of you until his eyes were level with yours. he brought his hands to yours, but you pulled away and stood up again, laughing bitterly.

“you have a terrible way of loving then,” you said, turning around and reaching for your suitcase, but jisung was quicker and wouldn't let you.

“i’m not letting you leave, not without sorting this out,” he said resolutely, snatching the suitcase from you and setting it in a corner, “it’s after midnight, you're not going out at this hour.”

“so now you care? where were you all those times i had to come home alone in the middle of the night because my boyfriend preferred to cheat on me with someone else?” you asked, moving forward again to grab the suitcase, but he got in the way and grabbed your arm, pulling you away from your things. you tried to pull away, but you knew he wasn't going to let go until you two fixed this, so you decided to continue, “you don't have to worry, there's no one out there who's going to hurt me more than you. you can stay calm.”

“tomorrow you can leave if you want, but tonight you're staying, okay? i can't let you leave at this hour, i’m not gonna let you," the grip on your arm was beginning to intensify, but he released you immediately when he saw the expression of discomfort on your face. he unhesitatingly wrapped you in an embrace and pressed you against his body, stroking your hair and resting his head on top of yours, “please stay, love. stay with me tonight.”

“how many others have you told this to? huh? how many others have you told to stay the night with you?” you asked between whimpers against his chest, clutching the sides of his t-shirt tightly in helplessness, “you treat me like shit, you cheat on me, you humiliate me and then you have the balls to tell me you love me.”

jisung, seeing that his words were having the opposite effect to the one they were intended to have, lifted your face and brought it close to his. he brushed your noses in a gentle but subtle gesture and, caressing the lower part of your eyes, he leaned towards you until your lips made contact.

however, the butterflies in your belly that you once wished would never disappear had, indeed, died. none of them was left. because jisung, with his lies and deceit, had killed them off one by one. until the last one that had remained until tonight couldn’t stand it anymore and vanished just like her sisters, leaving an empty hole in your stomach that resembled the one you had in your heart.

still wide-eyed, you brought your hands to his, which rested on your cheeks, and lowered them. jisung gradually broke the contact of your lips, until finally he rested his forehead on yours and let out an agitated sigh.

“you’re staying, right?” he asked once he’d pulled away from your face, looking at you with sympathetic eyes. but you no longer believed anything, you no longer trusted him.

“what would i gain by staying, jisung? i can’t stand any more humiliation,” you answered with a broken voice, trying with all your might he wouldn’t see you cry again. you hated showing weakness in front of him at times like this. you felt that if you did, he’d won again and you were tired of losing.

“please, y/n, please. you can't do this to me,” he growled desperately when you pulled away from him and went to pick up your suitcase. he tried to catch you when he saw you walking towards the door, but you turned and raised your hand, putting it in front of his face and telling him to shut up.

“i can't do this to you? i’m not the one who sent our relationship to hell, jisung. you decided to flirt with other girls, you decided to make out with them and you alone decided to fuck them. you’re the only son of a bitch here, and i’m not going to put up with you treating me like rubbish anymore,” you finished, taking the keys off your key ring and leaving on the front porch the one that opened the flat that was no longer yours. then, you turned to him and started to memorize all the details of his face, before saying your last goodbye, “have a nice life, han jisung.”

you left that apartment putting an end not only to a relationship, but to a lifestyle that had been destroying you for months. you didn’t know how you were going to overcome everything that had happened, but what you were sure about was that you weren’t going to go back and, evidently, you weren’t going to let anyone else treat you as if you weren’t a human being.

jisung’s punishment would be to wake up and remember everything he had and everything he could have continued to have if he hadn’t screwed everything up. now, when he got home he’d only find a cold and empty apartment. but that didn’t compare to how you’d felt during the last months of your relationship, and now it was his turn to feel the worst that can come from a toxic relationship, helplessness and resentment.

[bokutosworld]

then and now | kuroo t.

pairing: kuroo tetsurō x f!reader word count: 1863 words, fluff! mutual pining!  warning: manga spoilers, with mention of kuroo’s timeskip occupation summary: always the bridesmaid, never the bride. you thought your time would never come until someone from your past comes along and brings up something you’ve long forgotten. OR where you and kuroo make a silly marriage pact and he shows up after years apart to make it come true.  

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.” 

The church bell tolls, white doves are released, and joyful cheer and applause erupts from the crowd as the newlywed couple steps out from the cathedral. The now husband-and-wife gaze at each other full of love, and it is a sight guaranteed to make one envious and long for that same kind of affection. 

But to you, it’s a scene that you’ve seen so many times that it already feels like a short film played on repeat. For the past year, you’ve lost count of how many weddings you’ve attended – whether as a guest or part of the bride’s entourage – that you’ve acquainted yourself with the workings of the event. 

Heck, you’ve even memorized the readings of the priest that if they ever need a replacement, you can be the stand-in and officiate the program. 

However, this wedding was different. Your best friend of more than fifteen years is the one who walked down the aisle, and you’re more emotional than you expected you’d be. Earlier in the morning, she woke you up, feeling sentimental, and demanded a pep talk. It was laughable because, more than her, you thought it was you who needed that assurance as you sent off your childhood friend to a new journey in her life. 

The whole ordeal felt surreal and somehow, a tad more personal, because it wasn’t just any bride – this was the same girl you grew up with, the one you’ve seen in diapers, the one who held your hand in the playground, the person who you always ran to for boy troubles. Watching her exchange vows and rings felt like a coming to life of a scrapbook page, a long-awaited dream that you’ve talked about together in sleepovers where none of you really slept. 

It made you wonder if you will ever march down the same aisle towards the waiting arms of your beloved.  

---

“What a wedding, huh?” 

The hotel reception was no different to the ceremony that took place prior. This time again, you wore the bride’s maid-in-honor hat and only after making sure that everything – that included the food, drinks, and entertainment – were in place did you take your place on the table and chatted with your old friends from high school. 

The conversation started off with comments on how grand, intimate, and special the ceremony was. They talked about how it was wedding season, counting just how many of their schoolmates have already been wed. And before you knew it, eyes were on you and you had an inkling of what would follow. 

“So,” Yoshioka, your former student council president, turned towards you. “You’re the only bachelorette left in our batch. We’re just curious.”

You laughed awkwardly, “No, please don’t expect a wedding invitation from me anytime soon. I’m still happily single.” The smile you wore felt strained, but whether the other girls recognized it or not, they chose to not comment further. 

“Besides, it’s a great source of joy for me just being able to see you guys get married.” Noticing that the lights have begun to dim and focused on the spot on the stage, you clapped your hands, “Now, let’s just enjoy Yukie’s wedding, alright! Look, they’re coming out.” 

As soon as the couple walked to the floor for their first dance, you heaved a sigh of relief and slumped in your cushioned chair. They moved gracefully as one across the dance floor, seemingly lost in their own world as they gazed deeply in each other’s eyes and swayed to the tune of the love song. 

You thought back to the conversation earlier and weirdly, you felt a pang inside. Truth is, in every wedding you’ve attended, you can’t help but feel wishful. You consider yourself successful in almost every aspect of your life but sometimes, it can feel dejecting when you return home to an empty apartment at the end of a tough workday. 

A part of you craved to make that little girl’s dream come true of wearing the wedding dress that you’ve designed, staying up all night for a bridal shower, and walking down the aisle to where your lover was waiting. 

When the couple’s first dance ended, the host entered the stage and the program officially began. You could only hope that hours would pass faster. 

---

Two hours into the reception and you can already feel the shots kicking in your system. 

It wasn’t a really good idea downing five straight shots of tequila. At first, you thought it would quell your nerves, make you let loose and be the funnier version of yourself as you stepped to the podium to deliver your congratulatory speech to the couple. 

In retrospect, it looks like the drink did its job as you managed to emit laughter and emotional tears from the crowd as you reminisced on your relationship with the bride, recounting the story of how she fell deeply in love and decided that he was the one. 

But now, hunched in your seat with head on your hands, you were seemingly tipsy and all you could think about was escaping outside for some fresh air. 

So, you did. When the groom’s best man took the stage, you saw this as an opportunity to quietly slip to the balcony. 

Shutting the door behind you with a quiet thud, you eyed the empty balcony and sat towards the nearest bench. The surface was a bit cold as the city was now ushering the season of fall, signaling the arrival of long nights and chilly evenings. You shivered slightly and tucked your coat closer to your body as you stare at the darkness. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been outside until you heard the door open and in came a tall, attractive, and oddly familiar man. His face held a warm smile as you noticed that his gaze was directed towards you. 

“Long day?”   

And it was only until he stepped closer and stood in front of you, the moonlight illuminating his face and accentuating his features, that you realized who he was. 

“Tetsurō?!”   

When was the last time you saw the Kuroo Tetsurō? You racked your brain for your last encounter with him and your memories point to your high school graduation. All of a sudden, you felt small and your surroundings became hot as you stood in front of him. Your former childhood neighbor. Former best friend. Former crush. 

Not that he had any idea about that last item. 

“I thought I saw you earlier before the reception started,” he made himself comfortable on the bench, patting the space beside him to urge you to sit as well. “But it’s been so long since I last saw you so of course I thought I was hallucinating. Then you gave a speech on stage – which by the way, I thought was awesome, you’re still as witty as you were before – and my suspicions were confirmed.” 

You were breathless. Speechless. What were the odds that your reunion with him would be at a wedding? 

“Did Yukie send you the wedding invitation?”  

His laugh echoed in the darkness of the night, “Yeah, she did. It was nice to see familiar faces again.” He stared back at you, “I missed everyone.” I missed you, he wanted to say. 

You hummed in agreement and without realizing, the two of you engaged in a comfortable conversation with Kuroo leading just as he always did. Being charming just as he always was. Telling you stories from the part of the past that you didn’t know. Catching you up with his present where he now works in the sports promotion division of Japan Volleyball Association. 

A small part of you was relieved to know that Kuroo was doing well and successful just as you always hoped he would be. Years of no contact with the boy that stole your heart from day one certainly left you lonely. You wouldn’t say it out loud but he was part of the equation of why you still haven’t tied the knot. It was silly but you always thought that no one could measure up to him. 

Absentmindedly, you started fiddling with your fingers, a habit you’ve formed when you were feeling cold, and Kuroo noticed. And just as he always did back then, he enveloped your hands with his and brought them to his lips to blow warm air on them. 

“That better?” 

Your heart threatened to flutter, “Yeah, thanks.” 

After a long while of silence, Kuroo spoke. “I see there’s still no ring on your fourth finger.” He was now nonchalantly stroking your hands, letting his fingers slip in yours. 

You coughed nervously, averting your eyes from his deep ones. “Well, I haven’t really found anyone.” 

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.” Oh no, be still my heart, you thought.

Kuroo went on, “Remember that silly pact we made on the night before graduation?” 

Your mind takes you back on that evening when you and Kuroo were sitting on the rooftop, away from the noisy crowds and drunk soon-to-be college students. This was your thing, enjoying the calmness and admiring the stars spread out in the night sky. 

That evening, you and Kuroo talked about the uncertain future that lied ahead. That evening, you bared your soul to him, letting him in on your worries and you fell apart in his comforting presence. He, as always, acted as your anchor, assuring you that he would always be your biggest supporter and that he’d always cheer on you even from afar. 

That evening, with the two of you drunk on the excitement and the many possibilities for the new chapter of life, he brought up a proposal.

“I have a crazy idea.” Kuroo linked his pinkie finger with yours. “If we’re still single and not yet married by the age of 35, I’ll find you and we’ll get married.”  

Swept away in the moment and the thrill of the idea, you agreed and sealed the proposal with a harmless kiss. 

“You still remember that?” You questioned, not expecting him to actually remember that silly pact. Not expecting him to be holding on to that agreement. 

“Sometimes, I wonder where we could be now if I just manned up and asked you out that night instead of pulling that act.” He holds your gaze, careful as he brings a hand to cup your cheek. “I’ve liked you for the longest time. And if you’re still available, if you’ll still have me, I am yours.” 

“But we’re not yet 35, Kuroo,” you teased. He chuckled and playfully shoved you before bringing you in an embrace. 

“I’ve decided years ago. You’re the only one for me,” he pulls away. “I’m sorry it took me a long time.” 

And that night, it wasn’t only your best friend that went home feeling the happiest girl in the world. 

Because there was Kuroo who was ready to make up for lost time and give you a reason to look forward to your trips back home.  

[johnkrrasinski]

paralyzed;

full masterlist

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 2,032

Warning: SMUT!!!! non-con, degradation, humilation, oral sex (male & female receiving), murder, mention of blood, kidnapping. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: Steve Rogers broke into your house but not for your money. 

a/n: i’m back on my dark!steve rogers bullshit. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━���⭒

"You should be grateful." He stared down at your writhing form, with a knife in his hands that he had just wiped clean from the blood of her wimpy boyfriend. "I could've killed you too if I wanted to."

The tears of terror flowed from your eyes as you miserably attempted to free yourself out of the robes that were bounding you but to no avail. You wanted to scream for help as loud as you possibly could but all that could come out of your tapped lips were pathetic whimpers.

You wanted to run on your wobbly legs as fast as you could even if you knew you were going to stumble to the ground and scrape your knees and it would only make it so easy for him to catch you but at least you had that fleeting sense of freedom, an ephemeral glint of hope that you could actually save yourself from this psycho.

But it was hopeless. He was too strong. You stood no chance trying to outrun him, all it would lead you to was only in a worse scenario.

But hey, at least you are not dead yet.

Steve Rogers had been watching her and her pantywaist of a boyfriend for months now. Every day, he would sit in his RV for hours and he would park it across their house. He watched him leave to work every morning and she would peck him a kiss on the lips before he entered his car and drove away. He never understood what a girl as hot as her was doing with an average, tedious guy like him. She could do so much more. She should be with a man like him that could satisfy her in bed.

It started when she called for a plumber and the first time he saw her, he was instantly captivated by her beauty. "Fucking hell, she was gorgeous," he thought. She was only wearing a white tank top and booty shorts with a cardigan over her shoulders when he arrived. Her cleavage that was peeking through her shirt and her creamy thighs got him and jerking off at the thought of fucking her into the mattress that night. but he remembered the silver ring around her finger and the pictures of her wedding day in the living room, and he didn't like it. There was nothing that he hated more than what he couldn't have.

And so, a nefarious plan was forming in his head. he waited patiently for weeks, camouflaged himself in a baseball hat and hid in his RV. He observed her from afar, he learned her routines and broke into her house once when she left to the grocery store to memorize every corner and every room. He did it so neatly. He was ready, at another Friday night when it was nearing 12 am, after her husband came home and slumbering next to her, he snuck in through the back door with a dark mask covering his face and he tiptoed into the master bedroom.

He was as silent as a ninja that it was way too swift and a way to easy. He stood over the edge of their bed, he watched their peaceful states and he admired how divine she still looked even when she was deep asleep and the lights were out.

He walked to her husband's side of the bed and put his glove covered hand over his mouth and slit his throat. his eyes bulged as soon as he realized what was happening but he couldn't speak or scream, he could only thrash around until steve cut off his windpipe.

And in a matter of seconds, the schmuck was laying lifeless with his eyes wide open, the splash of his blood tainted his white sheets. He dragged the body off the bed to the floor and the thud woke her up.

It took her a few seconds to realize the gory calamity that was happening before her and before she could scream and run, he held her down on the bed and covered her nose with chloroform dipped handkerchief until she went unconscious.

That's how she woke up an hour later, bound and bare. her head was dizzy from what felt like hours of staying still in the same position now and the fear just kept rising and rising with every movement and noise he made. at least she was sure that he wasn't going to murder her just yet.

You had so many questions swirling in your brain, you began searching for the people you might have had done wrong or any suspicious behaviour that you might've had neglected... Not a single one had given you a valid answer.

"You must be wondering who am I and what do I want, huh?" he scoffed. "Don't worry. I'm not here to hurt you or for your money, I'm here for you."

You could feel the bed dipped with the weight of his arms behind you. He loved the view of your ass up in the air, face pressed to the blood tainted sheet and your limbs knotted with ropes. the things he was going to do to you...

"Remember when you called me to fix your sink a few months ago? Boy, you looked miserable as hell. knew it since the first moment I saw you that this guy doesn't have the guts to fuck your brains out. well... Didn't would be more appropriate." he smirked. "I met a lot of housewives and most of them practically begged for me to make them cum but, none of them was as sexy as you."

Gou could hear the clanking sounds of his belt being unfastened and him pulling down his pants and underwear just enough to spring his cock free. He pulled you down harshly to the edge of the bed, your skin burned against the friction.

You tried to push him away with your feet but he overpowered you by keeping you in place. "Don't fucking move, bitch. Or we are gonna do this the hard way, you want that?" You didn't fight back or resist by keeping quiet... not that you could do much anyway. "good."

He bent down his knees and dipped his head into your core, he licked a stripe over your entrance to your clit and lapped on your juices. He devoured you like a famished man and the squelching noises were deeply humiliating.

His beard unpleasantly tickled you and you knew he was gonna leave some beard burn later but that was your least concern right now. "Mmm, so fucking sweet, just like I imagined." He groaned at your taste, sending vibration to your core.

You moaned when two of his fingers intruded you and his thumb was circling your clit. Your body betrayed you by producing the wetness that you resisted. He curled his digits and brushed the spot that made you lose your mind. You sighed when he pumped in and out of you, scissoring your walls. “Look at you dripping all over my fingers. Can’t help it, can you? You need to be fucked hard by a real man so bad.”

The tears in your eyes had blurred your vision. His filthy words made you squirm. “Don’t worry, little slut. I’ll give you what your wimpy husband couldn’t.” He was amused by your reaction as he kept rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves. You mewled through your muffled mouth.

You felt your orgasm approaching, an unwanted eruption. But you were so close to the edge and when he moved in and out of your walls faster, you were pushed over the edge, making a mess all over your captor’s fingers. “That’s it. Go ahead, bitch. Show me what a dirty little slut you are.”

Your legs trembled and you were coming down from your high when Steve turned you around and now you were face to face with your captor. You wanted to curse this debauched man for ruining your life but all you could do was plead with your eyes to stop and let you go.

He stroked his cock and grazed it along your slit and milked it with your wetness before violating your body by pushing it to your entrance. “So fucking tight.” Steve began moving in and out of you, stretching you wide open with his cock. He began by pulling out until only the tip was in and impaled you deeply, jolting your entire body.

He repeated this motion and accelerated his pace. He kept his eyes on the way your breasts bouncing with every thrust. He untied the robe around your ankles and lifted them up onto his shoulders. You could feel him deeper than before and it hurt. “Take it bitch, take my cock like the fucking whore you are.”

Your visions were getting hazy by second. You were locked in your own body. All you could do was lay there and take it until he was done. He sped up, trying to chase his own release and the coil in your abdomen tightened. No, please no, not a second one. You spasmed and you exploded, this one was bigger than the last. Steve only chuckled at the sight while still ramming in and out of you vigorously.

“Fucking whore. Acting like you don’t like it but you’re so desperate to cum, huh? I’m gonna fucking wreck you.” Your walls clenched around him and Steve’s cock throbbed. He threw his head back and groaned and pulled out of you to dump his load all over your body, your breasts and your belly were covered in his thick, white cum.

You felt numb, you could only lay in an uncomfortable position with the robes digging into your skin with tears flowing from your eyes. You didn’t know if you could ever recover from this molestation if you were lucky enough for Steve to let you live… You’d be left with the pieces. At this point, you didn’t know if him ending your life would be a better or worse option. At least, you wouldn’t have to bury your husband or tell the police, your friends and family about what happened.

Just when you thought he was done, he turned you around so your head was hanging on the edge of your bed. “You didn’t think I’m done with you, yet, did you?” He stood tall above you, his face was like a demon creeping up in the dark, ready to pounce on you. “Please, just stop, please. I can’t- I can’t take it anymore.” You stammered through your ragged breaths. “Open your mouth.”

“Please, I’ll give you whatever you want, just, please, let me go.”

“Open your fucking mouth, bitch. Or I’ll do it for you.” He threatened.

You cried as you parted your lips slowly, but Steve was impatient. He propelled the tip into your mouth and he hit the back of your throat. You whined at the pain but the reverberation only aroused him even more. He gripped your breasts and used them as handles and fucked your face. “Gonna use you like the cockslut you are.”

He shut his eyes and grunted, profanities falling from his mouth. Tears were falling from the corner of your eyes and your gag reflexed. You could taste yourself around him. He pinched your nipples and you shrieked. “Suck my cock, slut.” He taunted. You swallowed around his shaft. It didn’t take long for him to drive his hips faster and he was ready to burst at any second.

He convulsed and drained his fluids down your throat. He stayed there for a few more seconds until he had no more drop to give and withdrew. You felt void, used and paralyzed. Your body wasn’t yours anymore and no matter how many showers you were going to take, there was no ridding his traces all over your skin.

“Let’s not waste any more time, yeah? We’re going to your new house. I’m gonna keep you as my personal sex slave. You’re gonna have a new life as my fucktoy and you’re gonna learn how to serve me. Get on your feet.”

[exoxobsession]

Attached

Genre: Friends with Benefits to Lovers!AU, Uni!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Language

A/N: This is a fwb theme with no smut, cause i don’t write smut.

You didn’t know how you got here. No, you knew how you got here, but you didn’t know where it would end up. It was a drunk mistake, 10 months ago, a drunk mistake turning into a regular cycle. You tried your best to put a stop to it, but here you were, back pressed against the wall and Sehun nipping expertly at your neck as if he knew your sensitive spots as if he memorized them.

It was happening again; he was playing with you again. You both have been friends with benefits for about 10 months now. You would be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to him, but this isn’t what you wanted, you wanted an actual relationship.

Tired, you fell asleep in his arms once again. This wasn’t in your agreement, but you never questioned it because it made you feel loved by him, even if it was just for a few hours. But you started getting confused. It was the littlest thing that got you confused.

You woke up with his hands draped over your bare waist, gently taking his hands off you, you go searching for your clothes as you walked out. You always left, scared of what would happen if you stayed. That would be too awkward. You decided you would look for someone else. No, not for a casual fling, a proper relationship, where you would receive as much love as you would give.

After a few hours after just watching tv, your phone rang. Looking at the caller id, you took a deep breath.

“You left…” he said

“Yeah. I always do,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Right, yeah, but I was just… no, I was wondering if you would okay with lunch?” he stumbled over his own words.

“Lunch sounds nice.” you nodded even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes,” he informed then hung up.

15 minutes for more than enough time for you. Taking the first thing you see in your closet, you put it on. Not caring one bit about how you look because it wouldn’t matter to Sehun either.

You heard a honk as you made your way out. You opened the door as you mumbled a hi and him returning it. The air was awkward, there was a lot of tension. Turning your head to him to his hands grip the steering wheel, all you wanted to do was take his free hand and hold it, but you didn’t, because friends don’t do that, but friends don’t fuck each other either.

You got off at the mall where your regular place was. He led you in and after you both ordered; you talked for a bit, just small talk. Then ate in complete silence.

You said that you had some shopping to do when he insisted he had spare time and he’s come with you. Smiling to yourself, you nodded. Going to the makeup section first, you looked around, trying to find a foundation as he just followed you around. Maybe you guys were fine, maybe it wasn’t awkward anymore.

After a good few minutes of applying it to your hand to see which fits, you saw a girl approaching you. You recognized as Sehun’s biggest headache as he says. “Hi Sehun!” she says in her high-pitched voice. You hated her, but you admired her in a way too. She was brave. She told Sehun about her feelings about him, though he didn’t outright reject her, he didn’t say no either.

“Hi, Kita,” he said without looking at her. Then she noticed you staring at her and asked, “Are you two dating?” which made you choke on air and Sehun rub your back, “No, weren’t no, we’re just friends.” he replied. Just friends. We’re just friends. “You guys can talk, I’ll just check around,” you said as you removed his hand from your shoulder and walked away.

“What were you even expecting, Y/N?” you said to yourself as you wrapped your hands around yourself. “Your just friends, you just an object that satisfies his needs,” you mumbled as you fought tears.

“Y/N!” you heard Sehun call out while you were checking out some summer dresses. “Finally! I found you. She was like a leech.” he said while grinning, which made it impossible for you to hold your own back.

“I’m done,” you started as you thought about what you were going to say next, but he cut you off. “Done with looking around?” he questioned. “Yeah.” you breathed.

On the way back he broke the silence, “Did you know we have a trip to the woods, tomorrow?”

“Huh?” you asked as you looked at his beautiful side profile. “The university is taking us to the woods for a campaign experience.” Oh.

“Who told you?” you knew the answer, but you acted like you didn’t. His jaw clenched, “Kita.” was all he said. “Can I ask you something?” he broke the tension again. “Sure.” now you looked away from his stare. “What’s your ideal type?” that caught you off guard. Taking a deep breath you answered, “Someone to make me feel loved, someone who’ll make me laugh, someone who’ll pick me on my bad days. That’s about it.” you unconsciously smiled.

Then you remembered what he said when this started.

“What if one of us falls in love?” you asked, testing the waters.

“Come on, you know I’d never date you. Plus, I just want to have someone with no strings attached.” Ouch. That hurt you more than you thought it would. “Let’s make some rules, so none of falls in love. Oh, and one more thing, let’s keep this only till we find a proper relationship”

He would never date someone like you. You better start looking for someone else. “What about you?” you asked, knowing that this would hurt you again. “Someone like-” your phone cut him off.

“Hey Jaeho!” you haven’t seen him in years.

“I miss you too,” you say.

“Let’s meet tomorrow, then?” you said.

“I’m just with my friend. Yeah, I’m heading back home. Bye!”

You soon arrived home, but Sehun got off too, probably just wanting to come with you. But as soon as you opened the door you were in a second and his lips attached to yours, and your back pressed against the door.

You don’t know how many rounds went on last night but you were sore; you turned around, but Sehun wasn’t there. He must’ve left. Disappointment filled through your chest. A sizzling sound made you look up, untangling the sheets and picking up the nearest shirt, and made your way out to the kitchen. There stood a beautiful shirtless Sehun. He turned around, sensing your presence.

“Sorry about last night. I made some breakfast, though.” he apologized as he held up the pan and put the bacon on two plates. “Thanks” you thanked him as you sat down to eat. You looked at him as he just smirked. Raising your brows as to ask him what he was smirking about. He just pointed with his fork at the shirt you're wearing.

That’s when you noticed it was his. You never wore his shirts, hoodies, yes, but any shirts. He got up and put his plate in the sink. He walked to you, leaned down, and whispered right in your ear, “Wear my shirts more often princess, you look cute.” Leaving you a blushing and embarrassing mess. Was it something more than just sex?

You went to the camping site by yourself, and all the fourth years were already gathered. You could see Sehun from the corner of your eye, but you looked away before he could notice you staring. Someone said ‘Boo’ in your ear, making you jump. “Jaeho,” you said as you wrapped your arms around him. All the students dispersed, and it only left you and Jaeho. “I missed you so much,” he said. “Where have you been?” you asked. “Just out and about.”

You spent the rest of the day with him, not brave enough to face Sehun. Then night came. Everyone sat around the campfire and played random games. The next game was truth or dare. You hated this game; you didn’t wanna do dares or reveal any truths. So you slowly slipped away. You went into the woods admiring the shining moon.

“You looked pretty cozy with that guy today,” Sehun spoke from behind you, which made you jump. “Are you jealous?” you asked looking at his face

“Of course not.” the response came in an instant.

“Then why do you ask? We’re nothing but just friends who fuck, no strings attached, right?” you burst within a second as he stood still, not answering or moving, just staring at you. “I want to end this Sehun. I can’t do this anymore. You would not stop, you needed to tell him. “Every time we do this, I fall more in love with you. We need to stop.”

“I know you said not to get attached… but I was already attached before we started this. And it’s confusing me, you keep doing sweet things and then say we’re just friends, like this morning, you made breakfast, though that wasn’t even a part of the agreement.” Tears escaped you.

“Fuck the agreement then.” he cursed. “What?” your voice cracked. “I can’t do this either. Do you know the reason I asked for this? It wasn’t a drunk mistake, it was what I wanted to for a long time.” he said, leaving you speechless.

“I’ve liked you for so long that I don’t even remember what it’s like not liking you. When we agreed not to cuddle after it made me go crazy having you close and not able to hold you.” More tears left from your eyes. You walked over to him and kissed him as your life depended on it. This time the kiss wasn’t needy or hungry, it was just loving. He kissed you passionately.

Soon you pulled away, his forehead resting on yours. “I love you.” he breathed. “I love you too.” you smiled as you pulled him back.