#but you know i get that insane urge to move back to LA because i romanticise it so much

[obiwan]

.

[the-truest-sentence-i-know]

you still don't know what i never said

Fandom: Agent Carter

Pairing: Peggy Carter/Jack Thompson (can be read as platonic)

Rating: T (mentions of canon violence)

Summary: After Jack is shot, Peggy sits at his bedside.

Word Count: 1.4k

ao3 | ff.net

written for @peggycarterbingo

prompt: Free Space

Mr. Jarvis dropped Peggy off at the hospital, reticent to walk her inside, the memory of Ana’s shooting fresh in his memory. Peggy understood but still wished she wasn’t alone as she walked down the mostly-empty hallways. She pushed the door to the room open gently, finding Daniel asleep in a chair beside Jack’s bed. Jack was pale and his skin was shiny with sweat. His chest moved only slightly up and down. The sight stopped her in her tracks.

It was no secret that she and Jack didn’t get along, and she had often gotten the fleeting urge to beat him up herself – not to mention she had almost shot him not too long ago – but seeing him like this was… well, she didn’t like it.

She shook Daniel’s shoulder, who spluttered awake. “Hey,” he said, blinking slowly.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “How is he?”

Daniel looked over at him. “They said the next twelve hours are the pivotal ones. Either he’ll wake up, or…”

Peggy pursed her lips. “You should go home, get some rest.”

“This chair is not that uncomfy, you know.”

“And you need to get your agents together, chief.” She looked at Jack again, brow furrowed. “We need to figure out who did this, and why. And you need rest if we’re going to do that.”

“I would’ve thought you would want to be on the front lines of that.”

“There’s a good chance whoever it was will come back to finish the job,” she said. “I don’t want to leave him alone.”

Daniel looked a little sheepish.

“Get some rest, Daniel,” she said, squeezing his arm. “If you hurry, you might be able to get Mr. Jarvis to give you a ride.”

He nodded and kissed her cheek. “See you.”

She watched him leave and sat down in the chair. How Daniel had managed to fall asleep in it, she had no idea.

They were lucky the hotel staff had found Jack when they did, before he had lost too much blood. She and Daniel had been at Daniel’s place when they got the call. He had gone to the hospital, and she had gone to the crime scene. The bloodstain on the carpet had been very large. It appeared that some of Jack’s papers had been messed with, but she couldn’t tell if anything was missing. Only Jack would know that.

As well as the person who shot him.

The wound made it clear he was shot at close range. No one had heard it, so likely a silencer was used. It all felt very planned, very professional.

As unsettling as they were, it helped to go over the facts of the case as she sat there watching Jack. They were much more concrete and controllable than this. A crime scene, she could handle, a hospital room, not so much.

She sighed. “It’s just like you to get shot and ruin my lovely vacation,” she said. “And now I’m here because for some reason, I feel a little bit responsible for this. Actually, no, there’s no reason I should feel responsible, but I still do.” She huffed. “Even unconscious, you’re insufferable.”

Jack, of course, did not respond.

Peggy was quiet for a little while. She watched Jack until she couldn’t anymore, and then she watched the door until she was worried about not watching Jack.

She considered herself a reasonably patient person. She could sit in a car for hours on a stakeout. She had managed several months at the SSR before Howard showed up without doing anything stupid. But the minutes ticked by slowly as she resisted the urge to pace around the room.

“Perhaps this is some insane scheme to make sure I come back to New York, instead of transferring to LA, because you’re too proud to ask,” she said to Jack. “Getting shot so I realize that I would miss not seeing your infuriating face every day. Which, I suppose I…” She shook her head. “In any rate, if you die on me, I shall be incredibly displeased.”

Talking made the oppressive silence of the hospital a little bit more bearable, and it wasn’t like Jack could hear her, so Peggy just kept talking.

“I meant everything I said, by the way.” She leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs and trying to get more comfortable. “You are a good man. You make mistakes, obviously. Lord knows I’ve done that too. I feel like we are more similar than you would care to admit. More than I would normally care to admit.”

She looked at him again, his pallid face, coming to a decision. If he couldn’t hear her, then she supposed she could say whatever she wanted.

“I know, you know,” she said, voice soft. “About you.” She looked away again. Even though he couldn’t hear her, this still felt too personal to say while looking at him. “Your feelings for me. I think everyone does. I didn’t believe it at first, obviously. Thought it was just a rumour the guys passed around.” She paused. “I don’t know if it’s still the case of course. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve changed your mind since taking over as chief. I can sometimes have some trouble with authority figures.” She smiled a little. “Maybe it’s best I don’t transfer to LA. I don’t want to ruin this thing with Daniel by being an obstinate agent who won’t listen to orders. That might put a strain on our relationship.”

Peggy’s mind strayed back to the facts of the case. “I don’t think you recognized your attacker,” she began. “If you had, you would have put up a fight, but as far as we can tell, they took you completely by surprise. It was a professional hit, silencer and everything. You were on the phone with Molly from the New York Office when it happened. She says that after the shot, she could hear paper rustling.”

She stood up and began to pace around his bed.

“So, the person who shot you presumably did so because of some information that you knew and had on you at the time,” she continued. “But it could not have been anything about the Council of Nine or Whitney Frost, because then they would have gone after Daniel and I as well.”

She frowned and looked over at Jack, who could, of course, still not contribute to her brainstorming.

“As chief, I suppose you have access to information that I do not, but then again, so would Daniel.” Peggy realized, again, that she would have to wait until Jack regained consciousness before she could really get any answers about this. She sighed and sat down again, looking at Jack in concern. “What have you gotten yourself into this time, Jack?” she asked softly.

It was another hour of impatient waiting, of pacing around the room, reciting the facts of the case to herself over and over again and still not coming to any concrete conclusions, before Jack woke up.

She was standing at the door, peering out into the hallway, because she thought she had heard something, when he said, gravelly and just over a whisper, “Peggy? What happened?”

She turned around, relief flooding her features and she rushed to his side. “Oh, thank God,” she breathed. She searched his face. “How do you feel?”

Jack looked down at his bandaged chest, lifting a hand to touch it and wincing. “Like I got shot?” he said. He frowned. “I was at the hotel, packing up. I was… talking to Molly about you staying in LA longer. I…” His eyes widened. “My– my briefcase, my papers. I heard him going through my papers after he shot me.”

Peggy nodded. “That’s what we thought, but we couldn’t tell if anything was missing,” she said.

“If you could get my briefcase, I could–” He tried to sit up, winced at the effort, kept trying anyway, and then Peggy pushed him down by his shoulder.

“You need to rest now,” she said. “I’m going to get the nurse.” She began to go out the door, but then heard him shifting in his bed again and spun around. “Lie down,” she said firmly, then smirked a little. “Do as Peggy says.”

Jack rolled his eyes and looked at her with the barely-disguised irritation she was used to. It made her feel a little better as she went out to find a nurse. That after the panic and worry and babbling to herself for hours, things were on their way back to normal.

[prismartist]

Ponk’s discoveries and what they mean

Y’all haven’t been paying attention to Ponk and it shows. /lh

He has made many discoveries in his recent streams that are just begging to be talked about, and I, as the resident maker of farfetched theories, will take up the job of compiling and connecting them to the current lore.

For those who don’t know, Ponk recently built up the lore of Not A Very Good Town Town, aka the village that went mad, through a book he found in the basement of Jack’s (the potato farmer, not Manifold) Ye Old Farmhouse, written by Jack himself. And it reveals some interesting information.

There’s going to be a few sections for this post: first, breaking down what is in the journal, then theories as to what exactly happened to the village, and how these discoveries can tie into the current storyline.

The journal

For one, Jack seems to have interacted an entity that’s eerily similar to Foolish. In the first page there’s an entry that reads:

“Day 790 The strange man is back, his body made of straw but eyes of emrald.”

On the second page as well, it mentions:

“Day 800 A NEW LAND! A land that uses sand as stone! Gold.... GOLD EVERYWHERE!”

Which, of course, probably pertains to Foolish’s desert home, which also has a significant amount of gold due to the Egyptian theme.

But why would we get Foolish lore from Ponk of all people, instead of the totem god himself? Well, Ponk was the first person Foolish interacted with on the server aside from Dream, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they talked more after that and collabed for lore.

But anyways, now we move on to the more interesting section:

“Day 840 The Strange man has returned his name still unknown... BUT! he has brought a caravan of good! he talks about ancient magic and gifts 21 statues transported in make shift boats.”

Jack then goes on to describe that the statues are “calming” for him, before the next entry, written ten days later, show a disturbing shift in attitude.

“Day 855 CATS I HEAR CATS, CATS IN THE WALLS IN THE WALLS”

And another one five days later:

“DAY 900 murder... the cats murder ,,, the people I showed Shrimpy my satues he seems too intrested BUT THEY ARE MY SATUES”

Now those who saw the episode know that Jack and Bob (Shrimpy) turned out to be the murderers of the “canon round”. Seeing as those two people were the only ones exposed to the statues as we know, it’s logical to assume that the statues were the reason they went mad.

And this is backed up by the next entry:

“Day 905 SUDDEN URGE TO MURDER, THAT HELGA WOMEN IS TEMPTING BUT DAMN HER HUSBAND NEEDS TO GO BY ANY MEANS NESS…..”

Then there are two blank pages before the journal concludes

“Day 1040 Just me and Shrimpy and the cool statues life is good go od goo d g ood go odgood g oodg ood go odg good goo dgood goo dgood g ood good good good goodgoo d go od g ood go od dgo od g oo go od go o d - JACK”

It’s creepy as shit. But moving on.

There’s a lot of questions to be asked here. Why did Foolish–if it is Foolish–visit the Town? Why exactly did he gift a bunch of statues that drove Jack and Shrimpy to madness and murder? Why are there cats in the walls?

(Well, cats are very significant to Egyptian culture, even to a cult-like status, but that’s for another post.)

There are a few possibilities.

What exactly were the effects that Foolish had on the Town?

(Here’s the farfetched theories part lmao)

The simplest (and let’s be honest, the most likely) theory is that the statues probably had way too much power that caused people to become overprotective over them. Foolish just didn’t realize and wanted to give some nice gifts, but the statues drove Jack and Bob to insanity after being exposed to them for way too long. So they killed everyone.

However, considering certain factors, there is another possibility, specifically surrounding:

The “non-canon” round.

Did Karl say that it was a practice round and thus not canon? Yes. Am I suggesting it’s canon anyway for the sake of this theory that probably won’t be true? Also yes.

Besides, Karl probably also didn’t plan for TVTWM to be influential to the storyline, but because of it his character’s now a time traveler and Ponk is pulling out more lore so.

I think Foolish came by and gifted the statues, the first round did happen, and he brought them back to life after the first game. But the resurrection affected Jack and Bob, driving them to madness à la gothic horror lit character that just saw something they weren’t supposed to. Perhaps their attitude became cult-like, praising Foolish, thus the overprotectiveness over the statues as they were connected to the god, or they were of the opinion that “Hey no, everyone’s supposed to be dead,” and then sought to make that true once again.

“But then what about the first round, where everyone also died?” You may scoff at the ridiculous theory, poking my chest accusingly. “Why were the killers different?”

Well, I have a simple answer for that.

Egg.

“What, the egg again-“ I know, I know, it may seem tiring tying everything back to the egg, but hear me out.

In another one of Ponk’s streams, “Dreams of potatos?”, at 58:15 (correct me if wrong) Ponk had a dream where Mayor Jimmy was saying disjointed sentences to Jack, scolding him, telling him to stay away from Helga, and also something about burning Miles Memeington being burned at the stake for being a witch (????). At the end of it, Jimmy turned to the camera.

And his eyes were red.

Which, of course, is a telltale sign of being infected by the egg.

The egg being the main plot right now, seeing as it can easily be connected to the “Red-Eyed Village Wars”, and the fact that it is known to control people to murder, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to point to it as being the cause.

It also helps that Jimmy was only a character from the first round; in the “canon” round, Bad had changed his character to some sort of constable or something.

So the egg may have controlled Jimmy and Cornelius, the murderers in the first round, to kill everyone, Foolish then came along, resurrected everyone murdered in the first round, gotten rid of the egg’s influence, and then left. Then whatever effects the statues had on Jack and Bob took affect.

Alternatively, the statues may have been the ones to resurrect the dead, or have been given as protection from any threats, but became haywire for one reason or another. They influenced Jack and Bob to protect the statues at any cost, and they took it too far. Which may seem a little hypocritical as the egg literally does the same thing, but fire fights fire and all that.

And, just like with Karl, if Foolish has had to deal with the egg before, it makes sense why he’s so averse to it now.

Current lore

Now, how does this tie into the current storyline?


Aside from the egg, if resurrection and items do affect one’s psyche, then maybe that’s the same reason why Schlatt and even Dream–the only other two who know how to resurrect–acted the way they did, becoming apathetic to the wellbeing of other people.

Also, it is worth noting that in the basement where Ponk found the journal, there were 21 villagers in boats, the same amount as the statues. Thus Ponk concluded that they are the statues. And Foolish does have an affinity for villagers, if King Toad is any indication. This implies that Foolish can not only bring dead people back to life, but can also grant life to objects that never lived in the first place. Or, they were once living, but had their life taken away from them before getting it back for one reason or another. If Foolish really has this much power, it could be foreshadowing for future events where those powers will be utilized.

About the bloodvines, if Foolish has defeated them before, there’s a chance he may do it again. Unless something goes wrong and he accidentally drives a few people to madness.

(or maybe they were predisposed to madness, who knows-)

TL;DR

Foolish may have interacted with Not A Very Good Town Town before to save them from the egg and resurrect the dead, driving Jack and Bob to insanity as a consequence. Thus he could have a lot of power and will be the one to potentially defeat the egg once again.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Five

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: This is almost purely fluff. There’s some angst in there, but it’s just, like...A speck. And it’s covered over by fluff. Also I’ve never been to Austin, I did a lot of Googling for this bit, so if any of it is inaccurate, I’m sorry!! It seems like such a cool town and I don’t wanna do it a disservice! Lastly, I linked the museum and the art pieces mentioned in the chapter at the end of the chapter, under the tags. Summary: You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for.

While you and Marcus would be helping Marnie and the family out with wedding prep during the week, they didn’t have anything in particular scheduled for that day. After he’d had his breakfast, Marcus had showered, gotten dressed, and left to get the car that he’d rented for two of you to use that week. You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for. “I wanna show you around while we’ve got some time,” Marcus had told you between stealing sips of your coffee (which were solely permitted because the two of you were pretending to be together - if this had been under any other circumstance, he would not have gotten away with a single sip. His parents had found it adorable. You had found it a loss of coffee).

You dressed in casual clothing, things that you knew you’d have no trouble walking around in for the day. Marcus honked twice once he was outside in the rental, and you bid quick goodbyes to his family. 

-- “So,” Marcus glanced over at you from behind the dark lenses of his aviator sunglasses, “We have a few options-- well, we’ve got a ton, but, I was thinking we could take a tour of the Capitol building, and check out the Harry Ransom Center -- it’s this massive archive and library. There are a few places we could hit for lunch, and then… I don’t know, the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center? And I thought we could finish with the Blanton Museum of Art?... Or is that, like, a no, since we’re both kinda around art all the time?” You watched him for a few moments, stunned. He’d clearly gone out of his way to think about what you’d like to do -- places that he knew and that you would like. He wanted you to have fun, and time out of the house - away from his family. Marcus was taking you out and about like… Like he probably would a real girlfriend. “That all sounds really awesome,” You admitted softly. Marcus grinned at you, and you settled back in your seat, facing forward again. -- Conversation came as easily as it had when you were in D.C. Marcus dropped the odd fact about Austin now and again (though it was nothing near his panicked post-flight info-dump), pointed out his old haunts, told you about his and Marnie’s childhoods. Even without his family around, you found that the two of you kept close. You reached for one another’s hands; Marcus drew you into his side when you were in crowded places; even when there was plenty of room, Marcus’ hand was on your shoulder, or your back. The contact was comforting; it didn’t feel forced.  You found yourselves strolling through the Blanton with your fingers intertwined, speaking in hushed tones so as not to disturb the patrons around you. It was where the two of you wound up spending most of your day, discussing Fogel’s Conflict and Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi and Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt. When you drifted into the Klimt pieces on loan from the Belvedere Museum in Vienna, and the two of you stopped in front of The Kiss, Marcus cupped your chin and leaned down, pecking the corner of your lips. You couldn’t help the stupid grin that took over your face, and you leaned into him, turning your head and hiding your face in his shoulder. 

He just curled an arm around you, smoothing a thumb along your side as you let your sheepishness run its course. You turned your head as it ebbed away, finally, taking in the intertwined lovers, robed in gold and adorned with flowers. 

--

“Okay, this… Is stupidly cool,” You admitted, looking around. “I was a little worried that you were going to stop at ‘stupid’.” “No!” You laughed, “I’ve never been anywhere like this.” Marcus had brought you to a bar with an arcade in Southern Congress for dinner. The two of you had ordered dinner and were looking for a few games to play before the food arrived. “They’ve got a little bit of everything. Pinball, Pac-man, Tron, Skeeball,” Marcus listed off. “Galaga?” “They’ve got Galaga.” “Perfect.” Marcus was exceptional at Pac-man and pinball, but you learned that you had the upper hand when it came to air hockey. You managed to play two games of it (both of which you won) before the food came. “Today has all been insanely awesome,” You told him after you’d polished off your pizza, “Thank you. I mean-- Seriously, you didn’t have to do this.” “I didn’t want you feeling like we were stuck at my family’s place all week, and...I mean I know we’re down here for Marnie, but you said you’d never been to Austin. I didn’t want you to miss out on seeing the city.” You and Marcus shared a smile before he added, “The whole day has been insanely awesome, huh?” “Yeah.” “Even in the kitchen?” “You mean when you were drinking my coffee? ‘Cause that put you on thin ice, mister.” “Right before that,” He corrected. The smile he was giving you was two parts bashfulness and one part coy. You folded one arm on the table, pillowing your chin on your other hand. “...Yeah, I’d include that. As first kisses go, it was…” You nodded a little, eyeing Marcus from under your lashes, “It was very...Very nice.” “‘Very nice’?” Marcus repeated, “I guess that’s not the worst review I’ve ever gotten.” “Don’t get all huffy,” You chuckled, ”I mean it, it was… I forgot what being kissed like that even felt like.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that...Was my first kiss in two years.” “Two-- How is that possible?” Marcus’ brow furrowed. You rolled your eyes a little bit, glancing away from Marcus as embarrassment swirled in your stomach. “The last person was my ex-fiancé. After that fell apart…” You shrugged, “I haven’t dated since.” You felt Marcus lean a little closer to get a better look at you. “Did you give up on finding someone?” “Not on purpose. I think I just...Built up some walls that I had torn down really quickly with them. And I built those walls up double. I prioritized work-- the devil I knew, you know.” “No dates, nothing?” “Nope.” “How many people did you turn down?” “What makes you think I turned anyone down?” Marcus tipped his head to the side, giving you a slight once-over as he muttered, “C’mon.” You shook your head, letting out a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “Well, how long after your engagement broke did you wait to date?” You asked. Marcus’ lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line before he admitted, “Five months.” “What made you get back out there? I mean… How’d you know you were ready?” “I wasn’t, but I was worried that if I waited until I was, the woman that had asked me out wouldn’t be available when I got there. I took a leap. It wasn’t a good leap, but it was a leap,” he chuckled, “And it made me remember that dating can suck and putting myself out there could be scary, but… Ultimately, it’s worth it.” You and Marcus regarded one another quietly for a moment. You couldn't even imagine what he was thinking. You couldn't understand how he was still so open to finding love when he'd been hurt the way he had. That sort of loss had only made you want to recede; it seemed to make Marcus even more determined to find love. Frankly, it was a wonder that he hadn't yet— he was the kindest man you'd ever met. You lowered your eyes to your empty plate as you realized that you were staring. It was easy to get caught up in his warm eyes; you’d found it happening more often lately, and it certainly suited the purposes of the lie you were playing up around his family. But there was something about all of it— his gaze, his smile, everything that the two of you had done today — it stirred up twinges or remorse. Lately you’d found yourself wondering if there ever could’ve been something real between the two of you, if you’d met under different circumstances. That was a very dangerous line of thought.

“If you’re finished with your food, we can go play some more air hockey.” You smiled at the offer, glancing back up at him as you asked, “I didn’t kick your ass enough the first time?” “Oh-- I was just warming up.” “Clocking all of my moves?” “Exactly.” “We’ll see about that.” (You beat him three more times.) (You let him win once.)

--

You flicked off the light before getting into bed, tucking yourself in beside Marcus. He yawned and mumbled, “G’night.” “Goodnight, what?” Marcus let out an exaggerated sigh, “Goodnight, supreme air hockey winner.” “Thank you.” “Mhm.” “I don’t ask for much.” “I know.” “Just that you steer clear of my coffee—” “Uh huh.” “And address me by my proper title.” You glanced over as you felt Marcus shift in the bed. Your breath caught in your throat as his arm wound around your middle, his hand dangling against your side as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “Sleep,” He urged in a mumble, “Oh supreme one.” You settled down, resting one of your hands atop Marcus’ arm. It was a warm, comforting weight; a sweet touch that you could, if you weren’t careful, find yourself getting used to. “‘Oh supreme one’,” You repeated quietly, peering up at the ceiling, “I could get used to that.” Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​ ; @spideysimpossiblegirl​ ; @blueeyesatnight​ ; @elen-aranel​ ; @yespolkadotkitty​ ; @artsymaddie​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​ ; @lunaserenade​ ; @winniedaboo​  ; @empress-palpat1ne​ ; @randomness501​ ; @nutmeg-20​ ; @leonieb​ ; @the-feckless-wonder​ ; @lou-la-lou​ ; @captain-jebi​ ; @supernaturalgirl​ ; @naturenebula21​ ; @evelynseventyr​ ; @giselatropicana​ ; @heatherbel​ ; @marydjarin​ ; @annathewitch​ ; @absurdthirst​​ ; @hnt-escape​ ; @writingletterstothefire​​ ; @misswriter​​ ; @bison-writes​​

Museums & Art Work

The Blanton Museum of Art

Fogel’s Conflict

Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi

 Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt The Belvedere Museum

Klimt’s The Kiss

[new-to-this123]

Monty’s Revenge

As per requested

May I please request a monty x girlfriend reader? where she was raped too and he does everything he can for her and ruins Bryce..  lots of fluff and smut

(I know the request asks for smut, but the direction I took this story, smut didn't fit. When you read it, you'll see why but I hope you'll still like it though) 

 Monty X reader 

warning: swearing, drug use, alcohol, mention and details of rape, fighting 

word count: 2061

NOTES: I haven't posted in a LOOOOONG time. Now that I'm done with school I definitely have more time so I'm hoping to get all my requests caught up!  I hope you guys like this one. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N journal entry

August 27th 2016

Tonight Kat is hosting a party at  her neighbors house. Kats parties are always a good time. Maybe I can get Monty to notice me tonight, who knows, I know people say he's troubled but there's something about him that i just love. 

Anyways i guess i'll let you know how this party goes.�� 

August 28th 2016

Well lets just say that yesterday didn't go as planned but it was a goodnight! 

I don't remember anything from the party. The only thing I remember is talking with Monty, and Bryce outside of Hannah's house. I was very drunk and so was monty. I woke up in the clubhouse with monty. We both don't know if we slept together, but I think we may have. The signs were all there, I have a few hickeys on my neck, and there's definitely cum in my panties. 

Monty and I hung out all afternoon, then he drove me home. 

Monty kissed me before I left and said he can't wait to see me at school tomorrow! 

I'm so happy! 

Present day (March 2018) 

Y/N was sitting at the lunch table with her boyfriend Monty when Jessica, Clay and Justin show up and sit. 

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?” Jessica asked

“Why?” Y/N asked, since Jessica never really talked to her. 

“It has to do with the trials” Justin  added. 

“Look Y/N has nothing to do with that so leave her out of it” Monty said defensively placing his hand on Y/N’s lap. 

Jessica looks over at Clay and Justin, and takes a deep breath. 

“Y/N there's something i need to show you and it's not easy.” 

“ok ……. So show me” 

“Not here Y/N” Clay adds

“Why not? Anything you have to tell me you can tell Monty!” 

Jessica slides over two pictures.

Y/N looks down at the first one and ,in the corner, she sees Monty passed out on a chair, and in the middle is a naked and passed out Y/N. 

In the second one, Bryce is taking a selfie of him raping Y/N. 

“Where the fuck did you get these?” Monty yelled, grabbing both pictures.

“When were they taken? How did you get these?” Y/N asked with tears filling her eyes.

“There's a box full of them. But i can't tell you when it was.” jessica replied

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us when this happened.” Justin added

“I mean, i.. I don't know, i can't think of a time that i was left alone with Bryce in the clubhouse, Monty has never let that happen.” Y/N replies. 

Jessica, Justin and Clay look over at Monty. 

“Don't fucking look at me! I didn't let this happen!! Im gonna fucking kill him.” Monty said aggressively.

“NO! Let me go talk to Bryce.. ALONE” Y/N said looking at all four of her peers. 

“I want answers and he's the only one who can give them to me.”  

“No way Y/N!” Monty said

“Are you insane?” Clay added

Y/Ns Texts

Y/N: Hey Bryce, wanna grab a coffee at monets after school? 

Bryce: why? Sick and tired of De La Cruz? Never thought you’d last this long anyways. 

Y/N: urg meet me there at 3

“There meeting with him after school, if you don't want me alone you guys can sit at the back of monet's” Y/N said standing up, grabbing the pictures from Monty and leaving. 

“You guys don't come! He’ll know somethings up” Monty said, pointing at Jessica, Justin and Clay.

“Protect her Montgomery” Justin said, looking him right in the eyes. 

Monty walked after Y/N. 

Y/N walked into Monets and saw Monty in the back with Taylor and Kenneth.

“Urg of course he'd bring his lackeys” Y/N thought to herself as she looked at Taylor and Kenneth.

Y/N orders herself a coffee and sits at a table in the middle of Monets, and waits for Bryce. 

At 3;15pm Bryce walked in, went up to the counter, ordered himself a coffee and joined Y/N. 

“Sorry I'm late, got caught up with some of the guys.” Bryce said as he sat down.  

“All cool” Y/N replied

“So what did you wanna talk about huh? Monty being an ass?” Bryce asked with a big smile on his face. 

“No i wanted to ask you when this happened” Y/N said as she slipped him the selfie of Bryce raping her. 

The smile on Bryce's face quickly changed to anger. He leaned forward on  the table and whispered “where the fuk did you get these?” 

“When did it happen Bryce?” 

“When do you think?” Bryce scoffed. 

“ I don't know, that's why i'm asking you?”

“Just know that you wanted it. You were moaning my name the whole time.” 

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat and asked Bryce again 

“When did it happen?” 

“When did you wake up in the clubhouse with Monty alone?” Bryce replied with a smirk on his face. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped, and suddenly memories of that night flashed through her head.

Hannah’s Party

Y/N is standing outside, holding a beer, sharing a joint with Monty. 

“You know i was telling Bryce on our way here that i hoped you were here tonight.” Monty said as he passed Y/N the joint.  

“I was hoping you'd be here too Monty” Y/N replied, taking a hit off the joint and coughing. 

“Do we have a newbie here” Bryce said as he walked up and wrapped his arm around Y/N.

“ Yes it is” monty replied laughing. 

Y/N walked back into the party and spent all night drinking and smoking with Monty.

Near the end of the night Y/N and Monty were clearly very drunk and high. Y/N was using monty as her support and monty was using Y/N as his. 

Bryce walked up to them “lets go kids! let's get you home” he said as he placed himself between the both Y/N and Monty and wrapped his arms around both of their shoulders.

Bryce walked them to his car, he helped Y/N into the front seat and Monty in the back.

As he was getting ready to drive off bryce said “now now don't fucking puke in my car” 

“No promises” monty drunkenly said from the back, laying down on the back seat, closing his eyes and passing out. 

Bryce placed his hand on Y/N laps. Even in her highly intoxicated state she thought his hand was a little too high up on her thigh and tried to move it. 

“Shhh baby it's ok” Bryce said as he smiled and squeezed her thigh a little harder. 

They got to the clubhouse and Bryce carried Y/N in and laid her on the couch. 

“Monty” was all Y/N could mumble in her intoxicated state. 

“He's in the car babygirl. You're ok. I got you.” Bryce said as he started pulling Y/N shirt off. 

“No” Y/N tried to mumble and squirm away but Bryce overpowered her and stripped her completely naked. 

“I know you want this. Everyone does” Bryce said as he started raping Y/N. 

“The night of Hannah's party. You were supposed to drive us home. Instead you went to the club house and staged the whole thing” Y/N replied, tears building up in her eyes. 

“Naw! Monty walked in on his own and sat in the chair after I got you undressed. And in casual Monty style he was too drunk to notice anything so when i finished i woke him up and told him he fucked you a while ago but i had to leave because it was late and he told me to leave you guys there. He took the credit and look,here you are two years later, still happily together. So why are you bitching, we all got what we wanted in the end” 

Y/N looked at Bryce in disbelief. 

“We all got what we wanted?” Y/N asked a tear falling down her cheek. 

“You got the guy, he got the girl and I got an easy lay” Bryce smiled as he stood up and left. 

“YOU RAPED ME” Y/N yelled as Bryce left Monets and Monty ran to you. 

 “Baby what did he say?” Monty asked wiping away your tears. 

“You walked in when he raped me and you did NOTHING!!!!!!!” Y/N yelled as she pushed monty away running out of Monets. 

“Y/N!! BAAAABE! HOLD UP!” monty yelled running after Y/N. 

“NO! FUCK OFF MONTY!” Y/N screamed tears pouring down her cheeks. 

Monty walked away, angry and heartbroken at what his girlfriend told him. He got to Monets,where his car was parked, and got in and drove towards Bryces house. 

He got to Bryces and went straight for the guest house.

“YOU FUCKING SON OF BITCH” Monty yelled punching Bryce in the face. 

“What the fuck De La Cruz??” Bryce asked, pissed off.

“You raped my girlfriend!” monty replied. 

“She wasn't your girlfriend then and she wanted it! She was moaning my name the whole time” Bryce shot back pushing Monty.

 “NO!!! YOU RAPED Y/N!!!!” Monty yelled again, grabbing Bryce by the collar of his shirt.

“Your bitch wanted it! And if it weren't for that night you two wouldn't be together! So shut the fuck up before i beat you like you dad does” Bryce spat at Monty. 

In that moment Monty’s mind went black with anger and he jumped on Bryce and started punching him over and over again. Kenneth, Taylor, Marcus and Luke all tried to pull Monty off Bryce to no avail. 

“Monty! Stop!” Scott said as he pulled Monty up from the back of his shirt. 

“FUCK OFF” Monty yelled pushing scott, who stood his ground and grabbed monty wrists. 

“CALM THE FUCK DOWN” scott yelled at Monty, as he pulled him out the guest house, to his car. 

“He fucking raped Y/N” Monty told Scott.

“And you fucked him up. Youll be lucky if he doesnt fucking die dude” scott replied. 

“Good, he deserves it!” Monty said, getting into the passenger seat of his jeep. 

“Y/N’s parents are gone for the week, that's where we're going” Scott said as he got into the driver side and drove off. 

“Y/N open up it's me Scott” Scott said knocking and Y/N’s door. 

“Oh my god you are an impatient neighbor!” Y/N said as she opened the door. 

“OH MY GOD MONTY!!!” she yelled as she saw Monty's black eye and bloody nose. 

“You should see Bryce, he looks worse” Monty smiled. 

“Ya pretty sure he almost killed him” Scott replied. 

“You went after your best friend?” Y/N asked, leading Monty to the bathroom. 

“Of course I went after him! He hurt the love of my life, and lied to me about it. He’s lucky I didn't kill him.” Monty smiled. 

Y/N wiped the blood of his face and hands. 

“I love you Montgomery” Y/N said, bandaging his hands.

“I love you too Y/N” Monty replied kissing the top of Y/Ns head. 

“Hey you two im gonna head home i'll see you tomorrow.” Scott said, leaving and heading next door. 

“Let's go cuddle and watch a movie” Monty said wrapping his arm around Y/N’s shoulders 

Y/N and Monty ordered a pizza and cuddled for three movies in her bed. 

“Y/N…” Monty said moving some hair out of Y/N’s eyes. 

“Ya?” Y/N replied butterflies in her stomach. 

“I really love you.” Monty said looking into Y/N’s eyes.

“Monty, i can't have sex, i don't know when ill be able to but I'm not comfortable with it right now. After finding out about Bryce, I don't know, i feel different” Y/N said tears building up in her. 

“ Hey baby girl, it's ok, I'm here for you no matter what and it doesn't matter how long it takes, I'll wait for you to be ready. I love you and I'm not going anywhere.” Monty replied wiping away Y/Ns tears and bringing her into a hug. 

[athenadione]

‘you are mine (and I am yours)’

In which you can find out the hard way that demons don't like sharing. @vi-la-vi

AthenaDione and I did a thing! Everyone loves jealous Damian, but hear us out....jealous Raven? Hope you enjoy! -Vi

I’m so incredibly honored to participate in this collab. Vi practically paved the way for me to give you all the delicious demon Raven smut that ensues and did a superb job writing the majority of this piece, as always. If you enjoy and feel so inclined, you can leave a kudos HERE on A03. Vi— thank you for allowing me to be a part of your writing process. You’re such a talented writer and I’m happy to have found you :) -AD

She couldn’t stop staring at him. Not just because it had been years since she last saw him, but because ever since she met him, Anna Vandergilt had thought of little else. 

Damian Wayne. 

They’d met at a benefit when both were sixteen years old, and it had been love at first sight. The elusive heir finally returned to Gotham after five years abroad, doing god knows what. She’d collected every bit of information she could about him, academic transcripts, tabloids, medical and legal records. Vandergilt influence ran deep and she had no compunction about using it to fuel her obsession. Securing an internship at Wayne Enterprises as Tim Drake’s assistant was just the latest step.

And now he’s here, and I won’t let him get away again. 

Damian had to remember her, the spark when their eyes met, the unbreakable connection they’d made. He didn’t acknowledge it when they were introduced, but that was fine. He was an intense, secretive man and likely just didn’t want to make a scene. 

Green eyes flashed to hers and narrowed, catching her staring. She willed herself to keep it together, sitting up straighter and crossing her legs in an attempt to draw his attention to the slit in her pencil skirt. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and leggy, she knew how to make men stare.

Or so she thought. Damian had turned his attention back to Tim’s presentation, arms crossed and expression impatient. So serious. She planned ways she might be able to get him alone, with no one and nothing to distract him from her. After today, I’ll have more than just fantasies. She’d been looking for an opening to approach him all day and was sure she couldn’t wait much longer.

They broke for lunch, but just as she moved towards him she was intercepted by Tim. 

“Hey Anna, can you run up to my office and grab my blue flash drive? I forgot to bring it down earlier.”

Get it yourself! she wanted to snap. An assistant position was well beneath her pedigree, and she hated taking instructions from common-born Tim Drake. Swallowing her irritation, she smiled and nodded. 

When she finally returned, Damian had already gone, apparently having had a lunch appointment with someone else. Anna sighed. I’ll speak to him after work, I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to dinner and drinks. No man had ever refused her.

She spied him later as she was returning to the conference room, speaking to a dark-haired woman she didn’t know outside of his office. She took a moment to admire him in his suit, noting curiously that the girl with him was only casually dressed in black jeans and an off-shoulder top with a band logo. Unprofessional much? He’s probably scolding her about the dress code.

Just as the thought solidified, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of Damian’s jaw, tugging his tie playfully as she did so.  

It was as though a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over her head. Anna stood stock-still, mouth falling open in horror. Who the fuck...how dare…?

The woman whispered something in his ear, kissing his jaw again as Damian rolled his eyes and smirked. She continued to stare, waiting for him to shove her away, glare, do something. She heard someone approach from behind. 

“Ugh, those two,” Tim groaned. 

“Who is that?” Her voice was tight and strained, and the man next to her gave her a curious glance. 

“That’s Rachel, Damian’s girlfriend.”

“Oh,” she said, at a loss for anything else. 

It’s not fair. I planned...I’ve been waiting…

She shook her head, determination moving in. A minor setback. He just needs to know there’s something better on the market. Vandergilts were practically royalty, after all. Her beauty and breeding were no doubt superior. She bit back her anger as Damian dropped a kiss on the other woman’s forehead before walking away.

Just a minor setback, she mentally repeated.

-

Tim’s assistant had a serious staring problem, and Damian was relieved when he was finally able to retire to his office. Annoying. The older man had joked earlier that Damian’s constant absence in Gotham and avoidance of the public eye elevated him to mythical status among some of his father’s employees. He longed for this week to end, eager to be back in Jump and away from the Wayne gawkers. 

His phone buzzed, distracting him from the revenue charts in front of him. 

“Stephanie is insane.”

Damian smiled, eyes darting to his watch to see how much longer he’d be stuck in this office. As necessary as it was that he be here for the audit, he felt bad abandoning Raven to his siblings. Next time they came to Gotham he’d make sure it was purely recreational and personally show her the sights.

“A half hour more, then I will come rescue you.”

Then two days more, and they would be home. 

A knock on the door called his attention. “Mr. Wayne? Could I borrow you for a moment. I need a second pair of eyes on this file.”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the worshipful expression on her face. The scent of expensive perfume assailed him and Damian fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. She looked at him hopefully, blinking rapidly.

“Ask Drake.”

She shifted, reaching up to toy with her platinum blonde hair. “Oh...he just has so much on his plate. I wanted to avoid bothering him,” she replied, voice high and lilting. 

Strange woman. Damian wondered where his older brother had found this one. He hadn’t really been paying attention when they were introduced, Vander-something or other.

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed.

She circled around the desk to stand next to him, laying the file in front of him and bending low. A fall of blonde hair brushed his shoulder and Damian shifted slightly to put some distance between them. He spent so little time in normal society it was easy to forget how bad most people were with personal space. 

“What exactly did you need help with?”

“This.”

Without warning, she sat on his lap and pressed her lips forcefully against his, throwing one arm around his neck for good measure. Damian completely froze, protests firing rapidly through his mind. She tugged on the waistband of his pants and it was enough to break his paralysis. He shoved her off of him violently and she caught herself on the desk, shifting it several inches back.

“What are you doing?!”

The alarm on her face lasted only a second before being replaced with a coy smile. “Don’t be shy, I know you remember me. It’s been years, but you’re all I’ve thought about, Damian. I swear.”

“I - don’t…” Damian felt uncharacteristically frazzled. “I have - no. I’m not interested,” he finally managed.

“Please, Damian.” She tried to take a step forward and he instinctively backed away. He hated the way she said his name, he realized distantly.

“I have a girlfriend,” he said, hard edge in his voice. One who would kill you and probably me if she was here right now. Raven did not share.

The woman sniffed. “Her. Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a Wayne. She can’t possibly-”

“Enough.”

He glared fiercely, daring her to try and continue. Tears swam in her blue eyes and Damian felt a touch of relief that he finally managed to get through.

“I...hmph, fine. Keep her on the side if you must. My father had a mistress. Just keep her out of my sight.”

She’s insane. What the fuck kind of vetting process do you have, Drake?

He closed his eyes and exhaled before meeting her watery gaze once again. 

“Listen very carefully. I. Am. Not. Interested. I want you out of this building in the next five minutes or I’ll call security.”

“I - but - we…” She straightened, eyes glassy with disbelief as she tried to compose herself. “I see.”

Damian kept his glare on as she left the room, feeling a headache build behind his eyes. He grabbed his phone again, feeling a pang of guilt when he saw Raven's name, and called his brother.

"I fired your assistant. You're welcome."

"What? Damian, you can't just show up and start firing people!"

"I'll...explain later." Vaguely, and with as few details as I can manage.

The hint of discomfort in his voice must have given him away. "Seriously? No wonder she was staring at you all day.”

"Drop it."

"Alright, alright. Her dad's going to be pissed though, he pushed Bruce for months to take her on here. Sounds like you got your very first stalker."

Well that was a disturbing thought. Damian shook it off. "Just tell him it didn't work out." He didn't want any rumors getting back to Raven if he could help it. 

-

Lying to an empath is easier said than done.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She snorted disbelievingly, eyes glued on the book in her hand. “Why do you feel so guilty?”

“It was a long day. I felt bad for you.” Half-truths were the only semi-effective way he’d found of getting around her lie detector. Normally Damian would smother inconvenient questions with lips, hands, and other parts of him that Raven was always deliciously responsive to, but touching her would have felt wrong right now. She deserved to know the truth before she decided how near she wanted him.

She rolled onto her side then, burrowing down against her pillow and studying him curiously. “You don’t have to spend every second with me, Damian. I’m pretty self-sufficient, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He shrugged, laying back and closing his eyes. “I’ll just be glad to get out of here. People in Gotham are a different breed.”

Raven hummed. “Fine, don’t tell me what’s actually bothering you.” 

With that, she leaned over to kiss him goodnight. Damian flinched at the contact before responding in kind, and pretended he didn’t see the confused look in her eyes. 

“I love you,” he said, focusing the emotion to make sure she felt it as well. 

She closed her eyes, slightly mollified. “I love you, too.”

I'll tell her when we get home, he promised himself. As much as he hated keeping secrets, he knew she was going to be upset and preferred a controlled setting. Damian remembered an incident shortly after they began dating when the ticket-taker at the theater had slipped him her phone number. Raven said nothing at first, but the night ended in a supply closet instead of a screening room.

"I don't share," she whispered dangerously, legs tightening around his hips to draw him in deeper. Red flickered across her purple irises. “You’re mine.”

He smirked at the memory. We never did get to see that movie.

Definitely safer for all involved to wait until they'd left Gotham.

-

Anna stared at her discreetly from the park bench. He’s loyal, that’s all. And I wouldn’t have him any other way.

She grudgingly admitted to herself that the other woman was pretty, if unconventional. Pale purple eyes and dark purple hair - hadn’t anyone told her the punk rock look was out of date? She had nothing on the blonde’s classical beauty.

A hefty bribe to the Wayne's chauffeur had given her knowledge of the woman's - Rachel's - movements throughout the day. She was ordinarily accompanied by Tim's banshee of a girlfriend and one of Bruce's orphans, but had separated from them earlier in the day to visit Gotham’s Arts District. Anna waited until she saw her enter the nearly empty arboretum before making her move. If Damian couldn’t be persuaded to break things off, this one could. An affair with the office hottie - tale as old as time.

“Pardon me?” She adopted a nervous affect as she approached, eyes downcast. “You’re Rachel, right?”

The other woman tore her gaze from the plaque in front of her, violet eyes locking on baby blue. “Do I know you?”

“Anna. I work - worked at Wayne Enterprises. I’m really sorry to do this, but...there’s something you need to know.”

She regarded her silently and the blonde fought the urge to fidget. There's something off about her. What were you thinking, Damian? Finally, Rachel nodded once, crossing her arms. Anna smiled internally and fiddled anxiously with her hands, doing her best to look miserable.

“I was Tim’s assistant until Damian fired me yesterday,” she began, voice weepy. “Tim’s the one who told me about you, I swear I didn’t know before.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed, something dark and inscrutable flashing in and out of her gaze. “...Excuse me?”

Anna took the low anger in her voice as an encouraging sign and continued. She dropped her eyes again and let out a harsh sob. “I’m not the kind of person who fools around with other women’s boyfriends, and-"

A massive burst of black and red interrupted her thoughtfully planned speech, demolishing the stone plaque next to them and knocking her to the ground. She screamed, covering her head  with her arms. A bomb? What’s happening?

Before she could get her bearings, something hauled her up by the throat, slamming her painfully against a tree. She blinked against the white spots in her vision and the dust in the air, squinting to see what held her. 

Four slitted golden eyes met her own, radiating fury so thick she could almost taste it. I’m seeing things. I hit my head and I’m seeing things. The devil tightened its hold on her neck and stepped closer, heat pouring off its red skin. Terrified beyond anything she’d ever felt, Anna felt her bladder let go. 

“Did you fuck Damian?” it - she - asked in a deadly calm voice.

“Wh-what?” she croaked. No way...what the fuck is she?!

“Answer, mortal.”

She sobbed in her grasp, all her carefully crafted lies flying away in the wake of her terror. “No! I just kissed him!”

The claws (claws?!) around her neck tightened and she felt warm trickles of blood start to seep down into her collar. 

“That - that’s all! That’s all I did! I’m sorry!” she cried, “I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!”

“I know.”

Shadows wrapped around the two of them and she screamed.

-

Stupid, stupid woman, Damian thought furiously, raising his eyes from the weeping figure on the floor. He’d put it together fairly quickly after walking in the door, and was currently kicking himself for not considering this possibility. She’s clearly deranged, I shouldn’t be surprised she approached Raven.

The woman in question sat in a nearby armchair, looking every bit the queen of hell she was. Her demonic appearance and the regal way she carried herself in this form lent their mundane bedroom at Wayne Manor the feel of some macabre court.

“Something to confess?” his demoness asked lowly. 

“I was going to tell you when we returned home. This is the exact situation I was trying to avoid.” Sparks of black and red magic at her fingertips told him that was the wrong thing to say. 

“You think a couple hundred miles would have saved her from me when I found out? I would cross entire universes.”

The woman before her seemed to curl in further on herself, as if trying to become a smaller target. Prayers fell from her lips, whispered and unintelligible.

 “She’s not worth it. I would have made you see that.”

“That’s not your decision to make. You are mine, this was a challenge to me. A proper demon would have brought just the head.”

A loud wail met her words and golden eyes flicked downwards, oozing contempt. Damian felt a thrill race down his spine. He'd never seen her this angry - possessive. The idea that he was the catalyst, that his composed, serene Raven was burning so brightly over a stolen kiss made his blood tingle. 

Apparently feeling the weight of the demon’s stare, she covered her head with her hands and tried to choke back her cries. A prey-like instinct to hide taking root. 

He swallowed before speaking, mindful of the thin ice he was on. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t kill her.”

An amused sound escaped her, and Damian wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret it. “Beloved?”

She finally met his eyes again, clearly unhappy with the situation. “Fine. But if I ever see or sense this creature near you again, I will tear her apart slowly. Testor ego eam.”

With that, she waved a hand and the other woman vanished in a rush of black. He didn’t bother to ask where, not wanting to push his luck with Raven right now. Hysterical as the other woman was, no one would believe anything she had to say anyways. 

The demoness crossed her arms, studying him silently. She seemed to have no intention of changing back to her human form. Oh. 

“I suppose I’m in trouble as well?”

“Lies deserve punishment. And you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

“You, habibti. Always.”

Her smile offered nothing but trouble and his heart started to pick up. "That’s a start."

“Oh?” he asked her, not moving from the spot where he stood. It seemed that court was still in session, and her final judgement on his own transgressions had not yet passed. 

She picked at a claw unhurriedly, hooded eyes flicking over his figure. Not one to back down, he met her appraising stare inch for inch.

“Did you know that demons mate for life?” she asked without warning. 

“No, beloved,” he breathed. The information was new but it hardly mattered. He had already decided that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her long before they ended up together. He just wondered why she felt it necessary to mention now. 

“It’s a sacred bond. Actually sacred, unlike human marriages. Challenging it is the worst insult one demon can deal to another.” Her eyes narrowed, and her claws seemed to sharpen before his eyes.

“She wasn’t a-”

“No one will threaten our bond. Do you understand, mate?”

Dear gods. 

He resisted the urge to lick his lips, instead pressing them firmly together. “You should know that you will never be at risk of losing me, beloved.” 

“I know. I also know you will never lie to me again.” The demoness waved a clawed hand before resting it underneath her chin. She was waiting for him. He swallowed again.

“What can I do to make amends?” 

Her grin widened, boarding on malevolent, as if she finally found the answer she was looking for. Lifting effortlessly from her chair, she began to stride across the room to him with measured steps. 

“I have a few ideas.” She purred. 

“Oh?” he asked again, displeased at how out of breath he sounded. 

Golden eyes held his own, and she didn’t speak again until she was just an arm's length away from him. 

Then she pointed at her feet. “Kneel.” 

He felt his jaw go slack. She wants me to do what? 

She cocked her head at his hesitation. “You will not kneel for your demoness?” She clicked her tongue in distaste. “Don’t you want to remedy your indiscretions?”

He set his jaw, barely suppressing a wince.  When she put it that way, there was no reason not to kneel before her, even if the thought of doing so went against every instinct in his body. He did, after all, lie to her, and if this was what she wanted from him then who was he to deny her?

Besides, there would be an opportunity for her to return the favor. I’ll make sure of it. 

Revealing nothing, he stared at her impassively and slowly dropped to one knee, biting back a scowl as her smirk grew. 

Then, he watched as a slender leg poked out from the slit of the dress she was wearing, and a strappy, black heel. He gave her a simmering look, then took it in his hands without a word, and pressed a kiss to her ankle, trailing up the side of her calf. 

“That’s very nice, mate.” She murmured, resting a clawed hand onto this shoulder. “What else are you willing to do for me?” 

A light smirk replaced his features. She was asking him to seduce her. To fuck her. That was something he would be more than willing to oblige. 

He promptly stood to his feet and grabbed her wrist, pulling him into his chest. To his amused delight, she went pliant in his arms— nearly purring as he captured her lips with his. He kissed her thoroughly, drowning out the memory of the other gods-awful kiss that’d been forced upon him. 

Then a clawed hand traveled his cheek lightly, moving its way to the back of his head. She suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged downwards, tearing his lips from hers. He hissed when sharpened teeth latched themselves on his neck, nipping at the exposed flesh there before soothing it with her tongue. 

Then she began to walk forward, forcing him to step with her— until the back of his knees touched the mattress of their bed. 

“Meus es tu.” She said lowly, and she pushed at his chest, sending him backwards.

It turned into a battle for assertion. One that he admitted he thoroughly enjoyed— and intended on winning. 

He took her with him, grabbing her waist to position her underneath. His smile was smug when he peered down into four golden slits, obviously dissatisfied at the turn of events. 

Ignoring her bared teeth, he nudged open her legs with one knee before settling between them, then rolled against her in one swift movement, taking pleasure in the way she threw her head back with a growl. 

He continued his ministrations, trailing hot kisses down her neck, just as she did to his moments before. One hand reached up to graze her breast as his kisses went farther down the middle of her chest, while his other hand roamed over the swell of her hips. 

Raven in turn, was growing more frustrated with every second he kept her distracted with his teasing, light touches. 

“Enough.” It was a command.

By the time he managed to blink he found himself on his back and she was straddling his waist. 

Her hands encased with her dark magic. “Alliges duplicia.”

His arms lit up with her magic and they were forced above his head. When he tried to bring them back down he was met with resistance. What the hell? When he looked up his eyes widened with realization. She bound my fucking hands to the headboard. 

“Raven.” He snarled in warning, tugging on his bonds. The demoness was unperturbed by his outburst. 

“You will submit to me, mate.” A dangerous red swirled in those golden irises, and he clenched his jaw in response, then bit back a groan when she brushed against his length. 

“Let me go.” He glared. 

“I will not. This is your punishment. You will stay like this until you beg for me.”

“Tch.” 

He detested how painfully hard he was. His erection strained against his trousers, and he couldn’t contain his next groan when she palmed him. 

It didn’t matter how much he wished she’d slip her hand underneath his belt. He would not beg. 

She began to strip slowly, until she was completely bare before him, and then she peeled off his pants carefully— and then his shirt. His full erection was on display for her, and he released a strangled noise in the back of his throat when she settled her heated core against him.

She chuckled darkly when he twitched underneath her. “Say please.” 

“No.” he gritted out, breath hitching when her mouth latched onto one of his nipples, nipping roughly. Her tongue flicked it right after, mixing the pain she had caused with pleasure. 

“No?” Her claws wrapped around his throat, squeezing in warning. “You are in no position to deny me, mate.” 

He just glowered.

“Fine.” She relented, retracting her claws. “You will break eventually.” 

Her fingers lifted to her full breasts, reddened from her true form, and her fingers began to tease one darkened nipple into a tight peak. The bonds went taut when he pulled at them roughly in an attempt to reach out to her. She noticed this and smirked as she teased her other nipple, then rocked against him. They groaned together.

He watched as she then slipped one hand down to her core and began to tease herself, parting her folds before slipping a finger inside while grazing against his cock. 

She moaned, mouth parting slightly and he growled again in protest. That should be his fingers inside of her. 

“If you insist on not obeying me, then I will use you for my own pleasure.” She sunk down onto his cock and his head hit the wall with his groan. Fuck, she felt so damned good and the pace she was setting set him on a steady course towards an impending orgasm, regardless of how much he despised not being in control. 

“Beloved.” He growled when she brought him to the brink all too soon, then slowed back down while teasing her clit with her own fingers. Quick, circling motions that revealed her own need to him— that she was nearing her own orgasm. 

He caught her hitched breath. She was losing resolve, caught in her own wave of pleasure. 

“Release me.” He tugged on his bonds again and bucked his hips into her for good measure. “I want to be the one to fuck you when you come.” 

She gasped and clenched around him, drawing him even deeper. “I will come soon. If you want to fuck me, you must beg now.” 

He cursed. Goddamn her. 

“Please, habibti. I am yours.” 

With a victorious smirk, she waved a hand. That smirk was short-lived however, because as soon as the bonds disappeared he lunged for his little demoness, twisting them both before pulling out of her to roll her onto her stomach. 

“You are mine too, Beloved. I will also make sure of that,” he snarled into her ear, teasing his cock at her entrance. His hands held her pressed against the bed. 

The demoness laughed, then inhaled sharply when he pushed into her with one swift movement. They were both right at the edge, only a few more thrusts was all it would take to throw them both over.

“I can feel how close you are,” He reached a hand underneath her to press his thumb directly against her clit, “Come with me, now.” 

She cried out— a sound that was more animalistic than human, and she fluttered around him. He fell shortly after, nearly seeing stars. He continued to thrust languidly, drawing out their orgasms. Vaguely, he watched as Raven’s skin turned from red to flushed ivory. One pair of eyes turned to peer up at him instead of two, and the color of her irises receded to lavender. 

For a moment he watched her transform, breathless. 

She smiled up at him as her breathing returned to normal and he returned it before dropping his face to her neck. “I’m going to have to make you jealous more often,” Damian murmured into her skin. 

Raven snorted, lifting a hand to run through his sweat-soaked hair. “Unwise. Not only will I definitely kill the next one, it will hurt the entire time she is dying.”

“Green is a good color on you, habibti.”

She said nothing, but he could feel her contentment in the gentle run of her fingers across his hair and skin. As post-orgasmic clarity continued to take hold a question popped into his mind and he leaned up to regard her.

“When were you planning on telling me we were essentially demon-married?”

She flushed. “Eventually. Are you...did you not want…?”

He silenced her with a kiss, letting his actions and strength of his emotions answer her question. As though he could ever give this up, or stomach the idea of either of them being with someone else. 

After all, Damian didn’t share either.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

DAY 17. SEDUCING THE OTHER.

A CHALLENGE WITH JAVIER PEÑA.

NARCOS ┃ USEFUL LINKS.

❝ words: about 1.3k.

❝ warnings: nsfw, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, mention of bodily fluids, language.

❝ a / n: don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it, i’d really appreciate it!

Today is your first anniversary and you don't need to be a genius to know that Javi has forgotten. He has too much to worry about in his job and you're not going to blame him; you have bought yourself a present from him. A black set of lingerie with transparencies that leave a little to the imagination. After decorating the living room with some fruity scented candles and putting on his favorite red lipstick, you wear his DEA's t-shirt —the one he hates the most but you don't understand why he keeps it.

At least he's on time when dinner is ready.

Carrying his jacket in his hand, he walks in closing the door behind his back, frowning as soon as he notices the piece of clothing covering your body. Wrinkling his nose disgusted and upping a side of his mustache, he shakes his head.

“Quítate eso”. He simply demands, crossing both arms on his chest.

(Take that off).

“¿Por qué? A mí me gusta…”

(Why? I like this one).

“Porque tú eres mía, no de la DEA”.

(Because you're mine, not DEA's).

You shrug your shoulder raising the gems of the t-shirt to remove it over your head and let it hang from your index finger for a second, until letting it fall to the floor. Just like Javi's jaw dropping and his jacket slipping off. Then, he notices the candles, the smell… But his eyes can't fly away from your body, licking slowly his bottom lip. Horny, but starting to panic.

“¿Qué estamos cel— fuck”.

(What are we celebra— fuck).

Javi starts to babble nonsense, trying to excuse himself, trying to apologize, trying to say something. Until you shut him up with a soft move of your left hand. He looks at you like a beaten puppy, taking a couple of steps closer with his hands kept in the back pocket of his jeans, finding some calm when he sees you smirking provocatively.

“¿Te gusta lo que mi novio me ha comprado, ah?” You say turning around with both arms raised at the sides of your torso, so he can have a better view.

(Do you like what my boyfriend has bought me?)

“Tiene buen gusto, sí”. He whispers fascinated, having to clear his throat seeing you more closer.

(Has good taste, yeah).

Embracing you against himself, you cup his cheeks onto your palms leaning on your tiptoes to peck his lips with so much tender, calmly, with no rush. His hands land on your ass, not losing time on squeezing it while grunting very pleased when you urge him to walk backward to the sofa. His fingers don't loose the grip on your skin whilst taking a seat, reclining against it and getting comfier. You slide down through your shoulders the strips of the bralette before taking it off and throwing it somewhere.

Javi can't stop looking at you, enraptured by any move you make, heavily gulping a knot of saliva when you kneel between his legs without being asked for. You have been craving him all day since you woke up alone much to your regret, but now, he's all yours. And you're going to take advantage. Your fingers are quick undoing his belt, the metallic button and the zip, gasping inevitably when he arches his back to help you, and his hard dick springs free as soon as his clothes roll down to his ankles.

Wrapping your hand around his length, you take an ephemeral lick from his glans, tasting the salty precum covering it. Usually, you like to play with him, and Javier loves to play with you, but Steve has called you again to tell you it hasn't been a good day either. You're already used. You know pretty well how to take care of Javi. And this time, you don't tease him, swallowing his most sensible skin until your mouth is completely filled, pushing the limits of your throat. Your boyfriend can't help but loudly moan, closing his eyes as he places his hands on the back of his neck. Until he's forced to tangle them in your head when the gag you produce makes his cock vibrate deliciously.

“Oh, fuck, cariño”. He growls tossing his head back, spreading his legs a little more, not being able to speak in Spanish as his mind is focused only on your touches.

You bob your mouth up and down, circling it around his most sensitive skin, as your tongue licks all his size as if it's the succulent food you have ever tried. You mark the rhythm, sometimes quicker when he's relaxed, sometimes slowlier when he's eager. And yes, you could kill him just like that —sucking off his soul and squeezing his balls when you force your throat and offer him another gag.

His vocals soon become louder, conscious that Javi is so close to cum, watching him maintain your gaze with his darkened lustful eyes and biting his lips, trying to control himself. Trying to last a few minutes more.

“Fuck, basta…” He begs pulling your hair back when he's at the edge.

(Fuck, enough).

Your boyfriend helps you to stand up, to push you onto his lap. He needs more. He always needs more from you. Pretending to take off the only piece of clothing that covers his favorite part of your body, Javier stops you.

“Déjalo”. He just says.

(Leave it).

Putting it aside, he tours your soaked entry with his fingertips. Your arousal wet his digits, bringing them to his mouth to taste you. He loses his ass for you —sucking them clean before colliding his lips with yours. Now, the two of you can taste your juices mixed in your saliva. The filthy kiss that is broken when, directing his glans to your cunt, you just simply let yourself fall over it, digging his hardness deeper than you two could expect.

You grip the back of his head while Javier nails his hands in your hips. He urges you, forces you to rock them, to bounce on his cock. You're desperate for feeling him, dancing your body keened, anxious at the moment his teeth and his lips meet your nipples. Kissing, biting, sucking, pulling them. He tortures you with a sweet pain that makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head.

Increasing the pace as you arch your torso, you find a new weak spot, hitting your g-spot with every bounce. Javi feels it too, he can feel the same pleasure reclining against the sofa and enjoying the view of your breast jumping every time you impale yourself with his cock. He could die right now happier and satisfied than ever in his life, with the addition of the soft fabric of your panties rubbing his length in every move.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum, baby”. He gasps with a very marked Texas accent, closing his eyelids.

“Yeah?” You mumble leaning forward and placing your hands on his shoulders to press your lips on his. “C'mon… cum inside me, mi flaco”.

The pounds to your soaked pussy are insane, just like the kiss he gives you —hungry of your mouth, obscene, dirty. Javier doesn't need anything else to explode, drinking and swallowing the animal grunt that escapes his throat, as he forces you down to push his dick to your guts making you find your orgasm too.

You both are breathless, but that doesn't stop you from fighting his tongue with yours as the pleasure continues shaking your bodies.

“Feliz aniversario”. Panting, he brushes your lips with his, wrapping his arms on your middle back to hold you closer. “Lo siento que me olvidé…”

(Happy anniversary. I'm sorry I forgot it).

“Está bien…” You whisper spreading sloppy and exhausted kisses all around his face. “No estoy enfadada”.

(It's okay. I'm not mad at you).

“Te voy a compensar, lo prometo, mi amor”.

(I'll compensate you, I promise, my love).

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17

NARCOS: @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @diogodxlot @danniburgh @velia27 @catcher11 @pedritobalmando @mys2425 @tanyaherondale @kalimont83 @scullys-alienpussy @acourtofsnakes @pascalesque @encounterthepast @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @gemini0410 @nikkixostan @lozaa94 @arveeee @thoughtfulpandelwasteland @cjbtw @goldielocks2004 @aurelie-celine @spideysimpossiblegirl @agirllovespancakes @kingpascals @im-an-adult-ish

[collectivefandomstuff]

Title: A Hindering Hand Type: Fanfic, crossposted to AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270097) Status: Complete. Chapter: 1/1. Fandom: DC/Batman Rating: T Warnings: Language. Beta: No beta we die like Jason Todd and also Damian Pairings: None. Word Count: 4k+ Genre: Humour/Comedy Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne. Summary: When Dick is refused the opportunity to coddle Damian, he decides to lavish his other siblings with his questionably helpful assistance. They are palpably ungrateful.

Excerpt: Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed him. 

”You have got to be kidding me.”

Jason stared at what used to be his perfectly clean kitchen; now a hollowed out shell of its former self. Cabinet doors were thrown open, his carefully organised supplies haphazardly shuffled around. Every single counter and parts of the floor was covered in flour, cocoa, and something wet and heretofore unidentified. He didn’t even want to look closer at the stove or the sink, both filled with sticky, clearly misused, pots and pans. There was a smell hanging in the air, the same one that had set his inner alarm bells off when he entered the apartment: burnt sugar and something that smelled suspiciously like rotten fruit. Jason took a deep breath to stop himself from just whipping out his guns and shooting at the mess. It would be cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. Instead, he fished his phone out of his front pocket and thumbed through his contacts.

He got through two rings before the line opened.

“He got you too?” Tim said on the other end. His tone reminded Jason of Bruce, which was usually a clear indication that Tim was fucking done.

“How can he be this useless?” Jason ground out.

“He was raised by Alfred.”

“So was I. And you.” “Fine. He was spoiled by Bruce.” “uh-huh,” Jason agreed, daring to move into his living room. Thankfully, the carnage hadn’t spread there, though there was an oven pan, placed strategically in the middle of his coffee table. The contains looked like what Jason imagined “dubious food” in Zelda looked like in real life. “I have to stop hanging out with you,” he told Tim. “Why?” “I just made a video game reference in my head.” “Which game?” “Not the point.” “I mean-” Tim began, but before he got any further into arguing why the specific game was “of import” to the discussion -fucking dweeb -Jason cut him off: “I’m going to kill him.” Tim was quiet for a moment. “What did he do exactly?” “Hi Little Wing,” Jason recited from the note that had been stuck underneath his brand new fucking oven pan Dick you bastard that was expensive. “I made you some brownies!” Jason stopped to look closer at the brown sludge that he was pretty sure was stuck to the bottom of his new pan. Martha herself recommended it, Dick goddammit. “I hope they turned out all right! Don’t work too much! D.” There was a pause. “Did they turn out all right?” asked Tim. “No,” Jason gritted his teeth, “No, they did not.” “He’s really on a spree this week.” “Yeah?” Jason muttered absently, poking at the sludge with his gloved finger. It jiggled. Somehow, that made everything so much worse. “Mm,” Tim said, and Jason could hear the tapping of computer keys in the background which meant that he had about 30% of Tim’s attention. “He hit Cass and Steph a few days ago. I guess since Cass is staying there when she’s in town he thought it was two for one. Tried to do their laundry.” “Why haven’t they killed him?” “They’re working on big drug bust. So, no time.” “Well I have time.” Jason groused, already trying to reorganize his plans for the evening. He would need at least three hours to repair the damage Dick had done to his kitchen. “Good,” Tim said, his voice cold, “because so do I.” Jason stopped trying to figure out how many new appliances he would need to buy to focus for a moment. “What did he do to you?” Tim was silent for a long while, then: “He tried to clean my apartment.” Jason shuddered. On one hand, he understood the compulsion. His replacement’s usual idea “clean” was “nothing hazardous is currently growing somewhere”. Still, the only thing worse than Dick trying to clean was Bruce trying to clean. Or cook. Or do laundry. Or vacuum. The Batman he may be, but Jason had never met a more incompetent homemaker in his life. Once, Bruce had tried to dust a little and they had to call the fire department. “And?” He prompted. “He moved everything,” Tim said, deceptively calm, “and threw out at least thirty-four irreplaceable things.” Oh shit. There was a reason why Jason stomped down the urge to clean Tim’s apartment. He once moved an old magazine when the younger boy wasn’t even there and the next day he got received three upset calls and a computer virus for his trouble. “He re-organised my desk. My cases. My clues.” Tim continued to rattle off. “And he didn’t even manage to clean properly. I’m pretty sure he tried to scrub my TV with vinegar.” Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. Looks like Tim got it worse. “Shut up,” said Tim grouchily. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were laughing at me.” How- Jason’s hand clenched around the phone. “I told you to stop putting cameras in my apartment.” Tim snorted. “So find them and take them down. Think of it as practice,” he said, lilting the word “practice” in the same way Bruce usually did. “You’re such a creeper.” “Says the murderous crime lord.” “At least I’m not a stalker.” “Have you checked your bottom cabinets yet?” Jason stilled at the sudden change of subject. “Why?” “Looks like the re-organising urge lived on.” Oh, he had better fucking not. Jason stepped back into his kitchen and, with the care of someone opening a bomb case, edged open the door to his pots- and pans cabinet. He came face to face with his toaster, nestled between a pasta drainer and three boxes of cereal that he had not owned this morning. It was the sugary shit too. “Son of a-” “I think he put your spatulas in the fridge,” Tim said cheerily. Jason was going to wring his little neck. Right after he had stomped on Dick until the unbridled rage in his chest went away. “This is why I don’t want any contact with this family for-” “You know why he’s doing this right?” Tim queried lightly. Jason frowned. “I don’t keep track of the family gossip, pretender. I have better things to do with my time.” Tim made an offended noise at being called “pretender”. “Fine. Then why don’t you try to make him stop and call me when he’s tried to clean your guns?” Jason rolled his eyes. The dramatics, honestly. Bruce 2.0. “Why is he doing this, Tim?” He asked reluctantly. Tim sniffed. “Damian told Dick that he wasn’t needed at the moment, which was the little brat’s way of trying to get Dick to take some time to de-stress, but obviously Dick took this to mean that Damian has cast him aside and considers him a bad parental figure.” Jason spent a good few seconds rethinking the whole “moving back to Gotham” idea. He could just… leave and never talk to this insane family ever again. It was entirely doable. Just, one little call to Roy and hasta la vista you absolute nutjobs. He sighed. “So we have to talk to the demon child?” He asked tiredly. “Yeah pretty much.” “I still think my first plan was better.” “If you kill Dick, the family will never leave you alone.” That was a surprisingly good point. Dammit. “Can I punch him a little?” “I’d encourage it.” “Hey,” said Jason suspiciously, “just what are you planning to do him exactly?” “Honestly?” Tim replied. “I’m going to send a false tip to the department of Agriculture, fabricate evidence, and make them recall his favourite cereal.” Jesus fucking Christ this family was a pizza bagel of crazy with a sociopath topping.

-

It took them a while to track down Robin during patrol, and when they managed to find him they were met with immediate resistance. Which, taking into consideration who they were, wasn’t all that surprising. “Calm down.” Red Hood said placatingly while he jumped out of range from Robin’s swords. “We just wanted to talk to you about N-” He dodged a batarang that was clearly aimed at his throat. Add psychopath topping to that pizza bagel. “Would you knock it off,” Red Robin snarled, spinning out of the way when Robin spun to aim a kick at his stomach. Hood seized the opportunity and darted in to restrain the tiny beast that, let’s be real, was absolute proof that Bruce should not be allowed to procreate. Robin thrashed in his hold for a good three minutes before he finally settled down, glaring murderously at Red. “What do you want?” Robin spat. Even when Hood could feel him literally vibrating with supressed rage, he still kept perfect syntax. No abbreviations here. Little freak. “We need you to call N,” Red said. He looked a little ruffled and more than a little miffed. “I will do no such thing,” Robin sniffed. “Think again,” Hood said in his ear, letting his voice drop into a menacing tone. “Look,” Red Robin said. His hair was sticking up at the back after the struggle and he looked real fed up with this. Hood could relate. “N is running himself ragged trying to prove he’s a good parent or something and you need to make him quit before he injures himself.” Robin stilled. “What would Grayson be doing that would cause him such stress?” “He’s cooking,” Hood drawled. “And cleaning,” Red added. Robin’s whole body tensed. “I will take care of it.” He declared imperiously. Hood looked at Red, who shrugged. Yeah, good enough, I guess.

-

It was not good enough, he guessed, Jason realised as he took in what used to be his living room, but was now a cut out of a living room no one would ever willingly ”live” in from Garishly Tasteless Designs Magazine. He had his phone up and dialling before his eyes had even swept up the full length of the dirt-yellow curtains. It took a while to get the full effect of them, because he kept getting distracted by the frills and the suspiciously Nightwing-esque pattern. “Yeah?” Tim answered on the other end of the line. His voice said he was knee deep in something and wasn’t really paying attention. Probably his revenge plan, which Jason was seeing in a whole new light right now. “He redecorated.” Jason’s voice was so low it was almost a growl. There was a pause. “It didn’t stop?” Tim sounded much more alert and aware this time. “No it did I just went out and bought this lime green couch myself from Blind, Bath and Beyond,” Jason snapped. He heard Tim groan into the receiver. “But we even talked to Damian,” his replacement whined. Like he had anything to complain about. His living room didn’t have- was that a fucking Billy the Bass? Jason was going to shove his guns so far- “I’m calling the brat,” Jason ground out before hanging up and redialling. Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed grimly. “He- you must be mistaken.” “Look, kid, there aren’t a lot of things I know, what with my not completing my formal education and all, but if there is one thing I will never unlearn it’s how to spot Dick Grayson’s fucking taste in fabrics.” “I see.” No, you little shit. You don’t see. Jason was the one who was cursed with seeing this absolute monstrosity of a- was that crystal?! “You said you were handling it,” Jason reminded him, firmly putting his back to the living room. Looking at it was bad for his blood pressure. “I do not understand.” Damian said seriously. “I specifically told Grayson to stop bothering you and go back to Blüdhaven where he could be of use.” Oh. Oh Damian. Jason resisted the urge to smack the phone into his face. Sometimes Damian’s age and social inexperience really shone through. Jason took a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Listen, Damian.” Jason said carefully. “Dick is feeling a little neglected right now, and what he needs, what we asked you to do, was to start hanging out with him again.” “-tt-” Damian was probably rolling his eyes. Jason could have Tim check later, he was sure the little creep had cameras in every building in the city. “That is preposterous!” “No,” Jason said dangerously, “it’s not. So now would you just call him and tell him you need help with your homework or something?” It was truly a testament to Jason’s level of desperation that he was willing to be this nice and patient. “Grayson needs to rest-” “Just FUCKING CALL HIM!!” Ok, so there was a limit to that patience. Oh well, he was only human. Damian, however, apparently thought that this was one indignity too far because the call disconnected. Jason glanced behind him and immediately regretted it. Porcelain figurines. Oh, how he missed the days when he was a big-name villain, and the only thing Dick did was fight him. In the corner, a cuckoo clock struck seven and a tiny robin popped out and chirped at him. Jason’s vision blurred with sickly green for a moment. Yeah, he was staying in a safe house tonight.

-

It took for days of no progress and Tim having his entire coffee-stash replaced with decaf (“cheap decaf, Jason. Low-level, buy in bulk decaf.”) before they threw in the towel and went to the manor. The estate looked as menacing to him now as it had when Jason first saw it as a little kid from Crime Alley. It probably always would, no matter how many times he was back. If Tim was feeling apprehensive, it didn’t show. He just looked grumpy, like a particularly displeased cat. His replacement rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped back to cross his arms, frowning. He looked very intimidating. Like a squirrel with an anger management problem. The door swung open to reveal Steph, dressed in a t-shirt that Jason was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be a splotchy pale blue. Her jeans looked new. “He’s not here,” Steph told them in a biting tone. “Who?” Tim asked. “Dick. Though for the record we have to come up with a new name for him because ‘Dick’ is going to be real ironic soon.” And whoa, Steph did know how to look properly intimidating. “What’d he do?” Jason asked her. Stephanie stepped back to let them inside. “There was an incident with a waffle iron,” she said icily. “He tried to cook?” Tim guessed, taking off his shoes. “He tried to laminate.” Steph corrected. Tim grimaced. “Is Damian here?” Steph snorted. “Damian is useless. We need to strike back.” She lowered her voice, her eyes cold. “And strike hard.” Damn, if this continued, Dick wouldn’t even be allowed back into Gotham. Actually, yeah he would. Only Batman could bar people from entering Gotham, apparently. Because Bruce was only one with any rights around here, that fucking- He was getting off subject. Also, not paying attention. “-alking to Dick,” Tim was saying, “trying to talk to him is a good way to make this worse.” “I wasn’t suggesting we talk to him.” Steph said, cracking her knuckles. Tim looked unimpressed, which frankly impressed Jason a little. Stephanie was scary. Not Batman scary but- Hang on. “Hang on,” Jason said, holding his hand up for emphasis, “Batman is the only one who can bar someone from coming to Gotham.” “What the hell is your point, zombie boy?” Steph asked, crossing her arms. “We don’t need to redirect Dickies attention back to Damian. We just need to redirect it. To someone.” Jason grinned at them and it probably only looked about 30% insane. “Someone with the power to stop him.” Understanding dawned on Stephanie and Tim’s faces. “Someone who deserves to have his clothes ruined,” Steph whispered reverently. “Someone who has time to redecorate because he doesn’t have a job,” Tim added gleefully, “someone who flounces into board meetings too late and does nothing.” “Exactly.”

-

Tracking down Nightwing turned out to be the easiest thing they’d had to do so far. He didn’t even try to avoid them. “Hey guys!” N smiled cheerily at them as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks putting them through some kind of Donna Reed inspired psychological torture. “Nightwing.” Red Robin greeted coldly and, yeah, in costume the replacement could totally pull off intimidating. “Whoa, what’s with the murder faces?” Nightwing said, stepping off the ledge he’d been standing on and walking closer. Hood crossed his arms. “You’ve been busy lately,” he commented and even the helmet couldn’t filter away the unvoiced insult at the end. “I guess?” N replied. “Did you like the brownies?” Hood tried to remember that they weren’t here to beat him senseless. Based on Spoiler’s clenched fists it seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling with that. “N,” Red Robin said with the calm voice he usually reserved for interrogating suspects, “we appreciate you trying to… help us.” On “help us” Red’s voice broke through the calm and straight into “I’m going to kill you and bury you in store-brand decaf coffee” territory. “But we really are doing fine on our own.” Nightwing pursed his lips. “You are all working so hard-” he started, but Red cut him off. “Yes, and that’s why we appreciate it. But we’re actually worried about someone else, who needs your help a lot more than we do.” Nightwing paused and Hood could almost see the gears in his head whirring. “Who? Damian?” “Not Damian,” Red said, because they all knew it wouldn’t work to say it was Damian, “B.” Nightwing crossed his arms. “You think B needs help?” And here was the fragile part of their plan. Hood cleared his throat. “B,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil, “works himself to the bone and he doesn’t accept help from any of us.” “He has Alfie though,” N argued. “Alfie is busy taking care of Damian, since you’re not helping him as much anymore.” Spoiler rebutted. And damn, blondie, good answer. “We struggle too,” Red said, “but we help each other, right guys?” “Uh-huh,” Spoiler agreed. “Right.” Hood lied, thankful that the helmet veiled his eyeroll. “You guys help each other out,” Nightwing said with obvious disbelief. “You.” “Red is always helping me with cases,” Spoiler said, “and studies and stuff too. And I help him with staying alive and acting like a human.” Red nodded. “And Red and I work together on cases,” Hood said truthfully. “And sometimes Hood makes sure I eat and stuff,” Red added, “and I help him with security.” “They also hang out and play video games and watch nerdy movies,” Spoiler revealed. The little snitch. “Really?” Nightwing said, looking between the three of them. “That’s great!” He shuffled around a little. “So, you guys don’t need me either, huh?” Oh god. Oh dear god it was the voice. The patented Richard Grayson sad-and-feeling-neglected voice. The voice that could inspire shame and guilt in the most hard boiled criminal. At least he was wearing the mask so he couldn’t give them the accompanying puppy eyes. “Well,” Spoiler said and Hood could see her wavering. She didn’t have the years of experience needed to withstand Dick’s manipulation. “But B does!” Tim exclaimed, dragging Spoiler to stand behind him. Good move. “And the little brat too, even though he doesn’t admit it.” Hood added. Nightwing bit his lip. “Look,” Red’s voice was genuine now, “we all really do appreciate it, but B and Dami need your help more. And frankly, the last time I saw B he looked dead on his feet. We’re all good. But he isn’t. He sleeps less than I do.” Maybe that was even true. Huh. Were they doing B a solid here? Wait, no. No they weren’t. It was recommended by Martha, Dick you absolute menace. “Ok, I hear you.” N said solemnly. “I just wanted to help out.” Martha. Think about Martha. “We know,” Red said, patting N on the back. It was really awkward. “Did I tell you B has started eating power bars for dinner?” “Wait, seriously?” Nightwing looked disturbed. “That’s so bad for you.” “Yeah,” Hood said as if he hadn’t watched Red do that at least three dozen times, “he’s really setting a bad example for li’l D, isn’t he?” He thought Red might have done the wave if he could have. Hood certainly wanted to give himself the wave for that stroke of genius. “Okay, I know you guys are manipulating me,” Nightwing told them drily. Shit. “But you have a point.” Oh thank Jesus. N stretched. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to make sure B doesn’t kill himself. And yes, I’ll stop helping you guys.” He shook his head. “You three should really open up more, you know?” They nodded, because at this point they would do anything to make him stop “helping out”. Red cleared his throat. “So, good luck, uhm...” Nightwing grinned. “I’ll stop, but you all have to give me a hug before I leave.” Fuck. N pounced on Red like a jaguar on a gazelle, completely ignoring the scandalised (and very undignified) “meep” Red let out. Hood turned around, ready to make a run for it. “If you leave before a hug I’ll make you dinner next time!” Nightwing called cheerfully, still holding onto Red Robin like he was a life vest. Triple fuck. Hood sighed. The things you do to not have your living room secretly re-decorated.

-

As awful as it was to get cuddled by Nightwing, it was all worth it about a week later, when Tim climbed in through his living room window for their bi-weekly movie night. This week: when the great go bad- The Godfather 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, and Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions. “I see you got rid of the ruffles,” Tim remarked. “You didn’t see that on your stalker cam?” “I’ve been busy watching Bruce lately.” “Oh?” Jason prompted, putting the pizza boxes on the coffee-table. “He tried to call me five times today,” Tim said. He walked over and got two beers out of the fridge. Jason sniggered. “It’s that bad?” “He’s only got one target now. B is about to break.” “Tell me more, tell me more,” Jason said, making himself comfortable on his new -fucking stylish thank you very much -couch. “Like, did he do something to his car?” “I can’t believe you just made a Grease reference, you absolute nerd,” Tim commented flatly. “Musicals are cool,” Jason told him. Because it was true and he would fight anyone who said otherwise. “Was Olivia Newton John your childhood crush or something?” “Who’s to say it wasn’t Travolta?” Tim gave him a deadpan stare. “Because,” he said drily, “unlike Dick, you actually have taste.” Jason mulled that over. “Touché." He shrugged. "Now tell me about B.” Tim looked up from where he was connecting his computer to the TV and grinned sharply. “You want to experience what the Germans call ‘Schadenfreude’?” “Hell yeah I do.” Tim hit a key on his laptop and the Cave flickered into view on Jason’s TV. At least, he thought it was the cave. “Is that?” “He re-decorated the cave.” Tim laughed. It was not a nice laugh. Jason approved. On the screen, Bruce had just entered through the door to the storage area and was making his way to the computer. Trailing after him with a plate of questionable looking sandwiches was Dick. Jason nabbed a beer from the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “Oh we are so watching this tonight. Sofia can wait.” “I made a compilation of the past week,” Tim said smugly, picking up the other beer and folding himself into Jason’s new armchair. It was beige and, most importantly, neither pea-green nor suede. On screen Bruce collapsed into his new, avant-garde office chair and put his head in his hands while Dick chatted pleasantly in his ear. “You know,” Tim said thoughtfully while Dick re-arranged Bruce’s files, “sometimes I think he’s being purposefully bad at this.” “Why?” “Oh just,” Tim reached for the pizza and Jason handed him the box, “whenever he starts doing this, we all have to interact with each other to make him stop. Like how you and I only started hanging out to begin with because he kept breaking into our safe houses to make ‘breakfast’. Well, that and that time he gave you a haircut in you sleep.” Jason stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth. “He…” Oh god. “That’s totally what he’s doing isn’t it?” Tim looked at him over his slice of pepperoni. “Yeah, probably.” Jason slammed his bear down on the table. “THAT SNEAKY FUCKING BASTARD!” Jason glared at Tim, the proof of Dick's successful manipulation. He didn't even like the replacement. Why the hell was he hanging out with him? Stupid, meddling big brothers who ruin your life. "It's okay," Tim reached over and patted his hand, "I just confirmed that they're taking his cereal off the shelves this week." And yeah, that made it a little better, actually. "I still don't like you." He told Tim. "I know. Wanna watch Bruce find out that Dick redid his wardrobe?" "Yeah ok," Jason grumbled. Maybe, he admitted to himself only, the replacement wasn't all bad. The screen zoomed in on Bruce's expression as he came face to face with a sequined suit. Yeah, Jason thought, taking another sip of beer, not all bad.

[justauthoring]

A MANIC GRIN. [PART FIVE]

PROMPT: After everything the two of you had been through, years of trust, years of love, you’d thought he’d tell you, trust you, confide in you. You’d been wrong.

PAIRING: Josh Washington x Reader, slight Mike Munroe x Reader (best friends) Please don’t plagiarize my work!!

TAG LIST: @itsfangirlmendes​ - @minigranger​ - @nari-la-morena​ - @jovialcat123​ - @pretty-and-pink-284​ - @sxperncturalimpala67​ - @megzdoodle​ - @thequinzz​ - @kaelyn-lobrutto24​

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE - PART FOUR - PART FIVE

“Josh?”

This was crazy. This was absolutely insane.

“Josh!”

Stepping back from Mike and Sam, keeping a distance from them as the two of them rush towards Ashley and Chris, hurrying to untie them; the sound of Josh’s maniacal and terrifying laughter feels like a repeated mantra in your head.

You’d tried to warn them. You’d tried to say something to Sam and Mike. You’d tried to explain but....

Pressing your hands against your lips, his name leaves your lips in a desperate cry. “Josh...”

“Oh, oh, very good!” He cheers, his wide grin never once fading from his lips as he circulates around the lot of them. “Every one of you! Got my name! And after all you’ve been through. Good, good, good, good. I mean, how does that feel? Right?

You don’t think he noticed you. You don’t think he even knows you’re there.

He probably thinks you’re still locked in that room. Away from all of this.

“How does it feel? Do you enjoy feeling terrorized? Humiliated? I mean, panicked? All those emotions that my sisters got to feel once one year ago! Only guess what? They didn’t get to laugh it off! No! Nope! They’re gone!”

No, Josh... No. You’ve got it all wrong. You’ve got it all twisted.

“I don’t know if you noticed this,” Mike speaks up, dark, angered eyes solely focused on Josh and only him. “But none of us are laughing.” He gestures around the rest of everyone else at that. You take another step back into the shadows, somehow feeling that hiding will make you feel better.

It doesn’t.

“Oh come, come-come-come-come. Why the long faces? Come on!”

You wince as he just keeps going; not seeming to catch the hint.

He hadn’t caught it from you. Why would we understand from them?

“It’s good to get the heart racing every now and then, right?” Josh explains, his voice encouraging. “And race they did, I mean, everyone one of you, just pitter-pat-pitter-pat! I hope you appreciated my little phantasmagorical spectacle! I mean, no detail too small! No opportunity missed! It was such a delight to play the puppet master for all of your Pavlovian panic! And all that gore? I mean, gore, there was gore-galore! Fake bodies... I mean, God, that shit was expensive.

“And no retakes! Nope, nope, nope, only double takes! Ah, you should’ve seen your faces. Hook line and sinker. For every little stinker!”

It’s almost like he’s trying to purposely rub it in.

“Josh,” Sam calls, desperate, “why are you doing this?”

“Don’t even ask this squirrely little runt,” Mike huffs, “he’s got no clue. He’s out of his fucking tree.”

“Well, he’s definitely off his meds.”

Your eyes flicker to Chris, relieved, even if only a little that he understands. He’s mad, which you understand, but he knows. He knows Josh. He understands. Understands that while it might seem that way, none of this was necessarily meant to be malicious; he just wanted them to understand.

Josh’s face is blank. He seems lost. “Aw, come on you guys. Revenge is the best medicine!”

“You’re done!” 

Your lips part at Mike’s words, moving to take a step forward.

“Mike,” Chris calls, saying what you’d wanted to say. “He’s sick--”

“What?” Josh calls, stunned. “Come on, you guys are all going to thank me when you guys become internet sensations!”

“Wait, wh-what?”

“Oh, you better believe this little puppy is going viral ladies and germs. I mean, we got unrequited love. We got... We got blood! I don’t think there’s enough hard drives in China to-to count all the views we’re gonna get you guys.”

Josh, you plead in your head, just stop.

“What are you talking about you ass hat?” Mike demands. “Jessica is FUCKING DEAD.”

But... But Josh couldn’t have done that... he just couldn’t have.

One look at Josh’s face and you know he didn’t.

“Jessica is dead and YOU ARE GONNA FUCKING PAY YOU DICK!”

You step forward the moment Mike advances on Josh, his name leaving your lips in a desperate plea just as he bashes the hilt of his gun against Josh’s head, effectively knocking him out. There’s a moment of stunned silence, and you’re not sure what to say, but then you remember that this is Mike and he... he has to listen to you.

“Mike,” you call, voice soft, nervous, hesitant. “Mike, Josh didn’t kill Jess.”

Mike doesn’t move. Not at first.

“Mike, please, listen to me,” you plead, desperate. “I-I don’t know what happened with you and Jess, but I know Josh didn’t kill her. He... He couldn’t have. I just--”

And then in the next second, Mike is whirling around to face you, the end of the gun pointed directly at your face.

A chorus of gasps echo, but you barely pay mind to the rest of them, your gaze solely focus on Mike. A moment of stunned silence echoes, the fact that he’s pointing a gun to you seems so incredibly bizarre that you almost feel you’re imagining it. That this is all just one really long fucked up dream and in the next second, you’ll blink and suddenly find yourself back in back with Josh and everything will be okay.

But, you blink, and everything’s the same.

“M-Mike--!”

“How do I know?” He cries, voice twisting in desperation as he shakes his head. And you assume he’s talking about Jessica, about Josh being responsible for her death; but then he says; “how do I know you weren’t part of it?”

And his words surprise you so you stammer for a reply for a moment, speechless, that Chris manages to get a word in before you.

“What?”

You turn to look at the other three. Notice the bewildered looks on Chris and Sam’s face, but then you noticed the hardening glare Ashley sends your way and your heart sinks with the realization that if it hadn’t stung enough that your best friend thought this; he wasn’t the only one.

“Mike,” Sam calls, stepping forward. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Mike keeps his harsh gaze on you. “How could she have not known? How could he have not told her?”

The fact that he regards you as if you’re not even there....

“Just like I didn’t know,” Chris calls, standing up. “I’m his best friend and he didn’t tell me.”

You swallow thickly, turning to Mike. “Please, Mike,” and you take a step forward, only to flinch back when he shifts, tightening his grip on the gun. “Puh-please. Listen to me. I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me. I came up here with you, remember? Because Josh said he had something to do, and I-I told you he wouldn’t tell me. Remember? Please.”

Hands shaking, Mike shakes his head. “How do I know you weren’t lying?”

“Mike, it’s me,” you call, voice pleading, cracking. You press a hand against your chest, shaking your head. “It’s me. We’ve known each other for years. You’ve always been able to tell when I’m lying.” You pause a moment, face hardening. “So look at me and tell me I’m lying.”

There’s a pause, Mike doesn’t say anything.

“Mike,” Sam calls, “this is crazy. I found Y/N tied to the bed, terrified. She was with me until he took her.”

“Yeah, took her,” Mike glares, “how do we know that wasn’t just part of his elaborate plan.”

“Because it wasn’t!” Sam cries, “I know!”

Licking your lips, you take a step forward, this time fighting the urge to flinch as Mike straightens out. “What are you doing, Mike? Are you going to shoot me?”

“What!” He shrieks, faltering. “Of course not! I... I just don’t think we can trust you.”

“You can’t trust me, Mike?” You cry, gaze watering as you shake your head. “Me?”

His lips tremble and his gaze softens.

“I didn’t know. Not before. Not during any of this.” You explain, trying to keep your voice levelled. “And then, when he took me,” you glance back at Sam, “Josh pulled off his mask, told me his plan, told me why he was doing it. I tried to get him to understand, realize he was making a mistake, I really did. But he wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t taking his meds. I thought he was, I really did. But he wasn’t, and he just wouldn’t listen to reason.

“He kept telling me I’d understand. That it’d make sense. But he had to finish first. He locked me in that room and I tried to get the words out when you and Sam found me, but I was in shock, Mike. Disbelief. I mean, I still don’t understand any of it. And then we heard Chris and Ashley and well, then,..”

The rest was obvious.

A moment passes. No one says anything and you don’t dare to take your gaze off of Mike, desperate for him to believe you.

And then, his gaze falters and his lowers his hands and this breath of relief rushes out of you. You step back, pressing a hand to your chest as you glance back at the rest. Sam rushes to you, making sure you’re okay to which you nod to her questions, not really saying anything.

You keep your gaze on Mike.

He moves to Josh, crouching down, and using some of the rope that had tied Chris and Ashley to the chairs to tie his wrists behind his back. He calls Chris over for help before the two of them are hefting him up to his feet, struggling slightly.

“Where are you going to take him?”

The sound of your voice surprises Mike, but nonetheless, he answers. “The shed out back. Until morning. He shouldn’t be left alone, but I don’t want him here.”

His gaze falls on Ashley, and you glance over at her, noticing the look on her face as she regards Josh.

“Okay, then,” you call, pulling back from Sam gently, “i’m coming.”

“What?” Mike blinks, turning to face you. “No.”

“Yes,” you correct, shaking your head. “I’m not leaving him alone. And besides, a few minutes ago you were ready to throw me there with him, weren’t you?”

And by his guilty expression and silence, you can tell he can’t argue anything else.

-

PART 6?

This chapter is a bit shorter but I really just wanted to get it out and posted for you guys, so I hope you don’t mind!!

[rainboq]

Thank you for the prompt! Here's one in return. #3 (kiss on the cheek) pricefield

You asked for a kiss on the cheek, you get an entire date and Chloe being a massive disaster. Enjoy! Apologies in advanced for my nonexistent Spanish skills. I’m going insane. It’s just Max, why the hell am I going insane? Chloe sighs as she sits in her truck, one hand on the wheel while the other hovers over the send button on her phone. Fucking Rachel and her big ideas. Just ask her out Chloe, it’ll be fine Chloe, you’ve known her since you were a little kid Chloe. 

A little traitorous part of her wished that Max had just said no so she could get the rejection over and done with. Instead, her dorky little face with it’s stupidly cute dimpled smile and earnest eyes had light up like Chloe had told her that there was going to be new episodes of Hawt Dawg Man or something. And not, you know, a date with her dumb punk ass.

Just hit the damn button Chloe so you can blow this already and tell Rachel you told her so. There’s no way someone as smart and talented as Max wants anything to do with me. She’s just doing this for old time’s sake.

Her finger taps the button and she locks the screen so she can’t stare at it and ratchet her anxiety up higher.

Ha. As if she has any control over her anxiety right now.

Her phone buzzes with Max’s reply and she takes a few deep breaths to try and steady her nerves. Her usual go to right now would be smoking, but she forgot her damn pack at home like a dumbass in her flurry of getting ready. At least I didn’t fuck up Rachel’s makeup job.

Is Max even going to like me with this much makeup on? She knew me before I ever started wearing any.

She does an impromptu drum solo on her steering wheel to try and get some of her nervous energy out, to mixed success when her eyes spot movement in the lobby of Max’s building. She turns in her seat, gets a look at her and promptly forgets to breathe. Chloe had said to dress up a bit, and Max had taken the liberty of wearing a flowing black dress with some matching leggings. It’s not nearly as showy as the things Rachel wears to parties and events, but there’s something about the way her freckled shoulders look under the straps that makes her heart squeeze. Those damn freckles, why do they have to be so cute?! Dammit, breathe, don’t be a total dweeb in front of Max because she grew up and got hot.

Fuck she is hot though.

I’m so boned.

Max spots her truck as she pushes out through the inner door and a great big dorky smile spreads across her face as she waves enthusiastically. Chloe waves back and scoots across the bench seat to throw the passenger door open. A moment later Max is climbing in, all winning and too god damn adorable smiles. “Hey Chloe!”

“Uh, hey Max! You look… hella great.”

Max’s cheeks go a bit red as she hunches her shoulders forwards, one hand rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t know about that, but you look amazing.”

There’s no part of Chloe’s stolen blazer and worn black jeans that qualify as amazing to her, but if Max likes it she’s not about to complain. “Thanks,” Chloe tries to say as smoothly as she can muster despite the slight wobble in her tone, “You down for some food?”

“I’m hella starving.” Max replies with a cheeky grin as she shuts her door. “I’m so down for this ‘best taco truck in town’.”

Rolling up to a dumpy taco truck in her old brick with someone as gorgeous as Max suddenly has Chloe feeling like Max really deserves a better first and probably only date, but plans are plans. “Then let your noble steed be off, fair maiden!”

Max breaks out in gigglesnorts as Chloe pulls out of the parking lot. “You did not just use one of William’s lines on me!”

“I so hella did Caulfield, what’re you gonna do about it?” Chloe adds a wink, hoping it’ll cover up how obviously sweaty as hell her palms are right now.

“Oh, I’ve got something in mind.” Max says in a low tone that makes Chloe have to fight to not choke on her own spit.

Oh god, is Max actually flirting with me? I’m so not fucking ready for this. “You down to thrash a bit hippie?”

“As long as your bony elbows don’t hit me!” Max replies with a laugh and Chloe punches the radio on.

The scratchy punk from the local station starts blaring and Chloe internally breathes a sigh of relief at not having to try and deal with Max’s flirting for a moment. Oh god, I can hear Rachel laughing her ass off at me right now.

Max for her part grooves along, and Chloe has to focus to avoid going off the road because of it. God she still dances like a total dork! Fuck, it should be illegal to be this cute or something.

Thankfully they make it to the taco truck without Chloe running into anything, despite her distracted driving, and she pulls them up to the sidewalk. I just hope she likes it or this is going to be a hella lame date.

“Hungry Max?” Chloe asks as she throws her door open after shutting off the radio.

“I’m so hungry, you have no idea.” Max replies as she does the same before sheepishly admitting, “I also kinda skipped lunch.”

Chloe jumps out of her truck and jogs around the front of it as Max clambers out. “Jesus Christ Caulfield, no wonder you ended up so short.”

“What! Hey! Not all of us get to be so freakishly tall.” Max groans and sticks out her tongue.

“Yup, it’s just my burden to bear. Now what do you wanna eat?”

“I mean, you know what’s good here.” Max shrugs as she walks alongside Chloe towards the food truck. “Order for me?”

“Spicy or nah?”

“No way, never spicy.”

Chloe can’t help but laugh at the way Max shakes her head and waves her hands in the air. Yup, still a total dork. “Can do Maximo. Just wait here.”

Chloe skips ahead a few steps and shouts out, “¡Hola Alejandro!”

There’s a clattering sound inside the truck and a middle-aged man’s face appears, “¡Aha! ¡Flaca! ¿Como estas?”

“Muy bien, gracias. ¿Y tú?”

“Bein.” He says with a nod and a big smile.

“Bien, quatro numero doce con polo por favor.” Chloe says, before turning to grin at Max who looks a little stunned.

Alejandro sticks his head out to see what she’s looking at before pulling back in and grinning broadly. “¿Tu amor?”

Chloe shrugs, unable to keep the smile off of her face as she rubs the back of her head. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I forgot how to say that in Spanish. Way to go dumbass.

Alejandro, to his credit, doesn’t need it spelled out for him as he pokes his head back out and calls out to Max, “¡Hola bonita!”

Max freezes up for a moment before doing a little wave back. “H-hola.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Alejandro grins at her, before retreating back into the food truck to start working on the order.

Chloe pulls out her wallet from her blazer’s pocket and takes out approximately the right amount of money plus tip and drops it on the counter before jogging back to Max with a big idiot grin on her face. “And that’s the food!”

“I guess I should probably learn some Spanish if I’m going to be living large in LA, huh?” Max asks sheepishly, doing that thing she used to do when they were kids where she’d hold her arm.

“Prolly a good idea,” Chloe says as she moves to stand next to Max. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

“Maybe I should have brought a sweater, I always forget how cold it gets here when the sun goes down.”

“Here, stand next to me, the food should warm you up.” Chloe holds out her arm and Max doesn’t hesitate to tuck into her side.

A sort of silence settles in as Max hums softly to herself and chews on her lip while Chloe watches the window for the food. The pressure of Max against her feels good, great even, but it all feels so surreal. “I can’t believe we’re actually on a date.”

“Oh no?” Max giggles softly as she snakes an arm around Chloe’s waist, “What’s so unbelievable about it?”

“How about the part where you said yes?”

“When I told my parents, my dad announced that Joyce and mom owe him fifty bucks.”

“Wait, what?” Chloe somehow manages to not stammer.

“They all had a bet, our dads bet that we’d date some day.”

Chloe turns her eyes heavenwards, where the few stars visible in LA are starting to poke out as the sun sets. I guess you’re smiling on my dumb ass from up there, huh dad?

“¡Loca!” Alejandro shouts from the truck as he puts their food out.

“That’s us.” Chloe says before reluctantly pulling away from Max, “we’ll eat in the back of my truck, meet me there?”

“Sure thing.”

Chloe trots over, grabs the two trays of food. Damn, dude threw in tortilla chips gratis, I fucking owe him a bigass tip next time I come.

Max waits for her, standing next to the now open tailgate. “After you, mademoiselle.”

“You know French?” Chloe asks with a cocked eyebrow as she slides the trays into the bed before climbing up.

“I picked up a couple things from an ex.” Max shrugs as Chloe turns, offers her a hand and hauls her up into the bed.

They end up sitting together at the far end, their backs resting against the cab as Chloe divides the food between them. “Eat up, short stuff.”

“Oh my god, stop making fun of my height you beanstalk!” Max laughs as she elbows Chloe.

Chloe just cackles as she pulls out her first taco and takes her first bite. Come on Chloe, it’s Max, but it’s still a date so don’t eat like a total fucking slob.

She waits until she’s actually finished her first mouthful and swallowed before turning to Max, “How is it?”

“Oh my god I think I’m in love,” Max mutters as she finishes her first mouthful, “Legit the best taco I’ve ever had.”

“Did I tell you or did I tell you?” Chloe grins in triumph before taking another bite of her taco.

They don’t talk much as they consume their tacos, they’re too tasty. Chloe finishes first and has to resist the urge to shout her victory like they did when they were kids having stupid eating contests. Instead, she starts popping tortilla chips into her mouth and just kind of watching Max while she waits.

Damn, I’ve seen her a bunch since she moved here and I still can’t get over how damn cute she got. Like even her ‘ugly duckling’ pics from high school look great. I can’t believe I missed out on her braces years though, damn, that would have been hilarious to be around for. That or I would have gotten in a lot of fights for jackasses making fun of her, which wouldn’t have been much of a change honestly…

Max finishes her tacos and beams up at Chloe, “That was delicious! Thank you so much Chloe!”

“Hey, you deserve it, also hang on, you got some sour cream on your nose.” Chloe grabs a napkin and wipes it off, prompting a giggle from Max.

“You’re adorable.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Max laughs and steals a chip from Chloe’s basket before grinning at her as she eats it.

“What, hey! Those are my chips! You’ve got your own!”

“Yeah but yours are tastier!”

Oh my god, this old game. “What, you want me to feed them to you?”

Chloe’s heart skips a beat as Max’s cheeks flush red. “I-I mean, I wouldn’t mind…”

“Only if you feed me yours.” Chloe grins as she feels her own cheeks heating up.

“It's a deal then.”

Chloe holds up one of her chips to Max’s face, who promptly devours it before holding up one of her chips for Chloe, who returns the gesture. Before long they’re both grinning at each other like sappy idiots and swapping chips until their baskets run empty. Max makes a little disappointed noise as they run out and Chloe gathers up their baskets.

“I’ll run these back and we’ll hit the road?”

“Sure thing.” Max says, before stifling a yawn. “Man, I didn’t realize how late it’s getting already.”

“Nah, you’re just getting old, the night’s still young.”

Max jabs a finger into Chloe’s side before laughing, “You ass, don’t you know it’s rude to joke about a lady’s age?”

“I’m older than you!”

“I said a lady.” Max retorts with a smirk as they both get to their feet and hop out of the bed.

“You got me there Maximus Wrecked.”

Damn, I think this is actually going pretty well! She thinks to herself as she jogs back to the food stand and drops the baskets off on the outside counter. From inside Alejandro flashes her a double thumbs up and Chloe grins back at him before turning around to head back to her truck.

Max is already in the cab, holding herself and shivering a bit as Chloe gets in. “Definitely should have brought a sweater.”

Thinking fast, Chloe pulls off her blazer and holds it out to Max. “Here, until the heater decides to start working.”

“Thank you so much,” Max says as she puts the blazer on in a hurry, “This has been great.”

“Hey, you’re great so…”

There’s a giggle from Max before she stifles another yawn. “Dork. We should probably head back though. I had a crazy long day.”

Chloe’s heart sinks and her mind immediately starts racing for ways she fucked this up as she starts her truck up. “Oh, okay.”

“I had fun Chloe, seriously.” Max says, reaching out across the bench and laying her hand on Chloe’s forearm as she shifts the truck into gear. “We’ll have to do this again.”

Oh, okay, so I didn’t completely fuck it up. “Second date, huh?”

“Definitely,” Max smiles warmly as they pull out into the street, “Mind if I put some of my tunes on?”

“Sure, knock yourself out.”

Soft indie rock fills the cabin as Chloe drives back to Max’s place. Despite the promise of a second date, she really, really, really doesn’t want this to end. She’d hoped to go walking down the beach or something with max, maybe hit up a bar and get a little crazy.

Can’t you just be happy dumbass? You got the second date, just… take it easy. You know better than to rush Max of all fucking people.

The drive back to Max’s apartment is way too short, or maybe she’s so wrapped up in her thoughts that the usual nightmare of LA traffic barely registers. Either way, she’s sitting in front of Max’s building and wishing she was anywhere else in town with Max.

“So, uh…”

“Thank you, I had a wonderful evening,” Max says softly as she scoots across the bench seat and presses a gentle kiss into Chloe’s cheek, one hand cupping her chin.

It takes Chloe a second to remember what words are, much less how to put them together into sentences, but she does manage, eventually as she turns to look at Max. “You’re, uh, hella welcome.”

Something mischievous that ties Chloe’s guts in a knot sparkles in those brilliant blue eyes of Max as she smiles wide, “Do you hella want to come up to my apartment for some coffee?”

[alreadyblondenow]

How it used to be

Mark Lee x reader // FLUFF, SMUTT, ANGST

Part of PROM SERIES: MARK LEE

Themes: high school! au, prom! au, strangers to lovers, popular Mark

Word count: 7k

Summary: Out of sheer dumb luck and with the help of your missing bra, the famous Mark Lee became your perfect boyfriend and he fucked up. Now, he’s counting the days before you two break up.

Warnings: mentions of other idols, 127 boys, dreamies, swearing, alcohol, drugs, drugs drugs, space brownies are brownies with weed in it, fingering, unprotected sex, cheating, possessive Mark. Lots of sex but short parts hehe, Mark punched Jeno on the face, breakup sex?

A/N: This is the last story for my PROM SERIES. Hope you enjoy this. I kinda, sorta, wrote this like my other fic, Mark, this is how we broke up because a lot of people are asking for part two but sadly I can’t deliver :( i wrote this for the people who got the taste of a perfect relationship but then the day comes when you can’t save it no matter how hard you try.

Everyone was too drunk at Johnny’s party that they started jumping to the pool once Jaehyun jumped right in first. It’s always a wild party whenever the 127 boys are present, too bad they’re graduating already and their youngest members will be the only ones left. Mark and Haechan.

The water was fucking freezing but nobody seems to care, everyone still dances under loud party music that Johnny is playing. You don’t know what came into your head that even you had the urge to jump at a pool full of drunk and horny teenagers but it was a blurry night for you because of the excessive amount of alcohol and the space brownies your best friend have been giving you.

“Woah there, easy” you fell into someone’s arm when you decided to get out of the freezing water after dancing crazily with your friends while being drunk and high at the same time. You smile weakly to the guy who had your arm, “Hi, I’m Mark” he smiled back to you with concern.

“Y/n. Sorry I’m fucking freezing I can't walk properly” you perfectly know who he is and you thank yourself for being drunk, freezing, and high to luckily land on Mark Lee’s arms.

“Your uhm… Your nipples are-“ he looked at your wet shirt awkwardly and looked for a missing bra floating around the pool. He went back to the freezing water when he saw it, grabbed it, and went back to you to give your wet bra.

“Oh, fuck” you shyly take it from his hands, someone must have unclasped it while you were busy dancing.

“You need some new clothes, come on” you cover your wet shirt with your hands, while Mark’s arms swing around you, keeping you close to him, giving you heat and away from the perverts. He brought you upstairs, which is off-limits to everyone but Johnny is like a brother to him he’s sure he wouldn’t mind. Mark knocked to Johnny’s sister's room and asked her if she could lend you some clothes, especially a bra. Luckily, Johnny’s sister is as nice as an angel and handed you some clean clothes.

Mark needed clean clothes too so he brought you to Johnny’s room to get clothes. “You can change inside Johnny’s bathroom” you nod and walked towards where he points.

One of the many struggles of being a woman is putting on a bra. Imagine how hard it is to put one while you're high as a kite, your eyelids are heavy and your arms are tired. You’ve been struggling for minutes trying to snap your bra but you really can’t. And given that you’re drunk, you forgot to close the door and Mark saw your struggle.

“Hey, I got you” he holds your shoulders and caressed it for a bit so you would calm down. And effortlessly, Mark finished the job. Looking at you through the mirror without a shirt and wearing only Johnny’s sweatpants. He can’t deny that he’s already attracted to your beauty the moment you fell on him near the pool.

Bravely, he kissed your shoulders slowly going up to your neck. And it feels so damn good that you closed your eyes and roll your head so he can have more access. “Wow, the famous Mark Lee kissing my neck,” you said breathlessly and turned to meet the gorgeous man behind you. His hotness is evident even though everything seems to be moving.

He kissed you on the lips, caging you with his strong arms and leaning you on the sink. It was a kiss that you didn’t want to stop, a kiss that’s getting hungrier and hungrier by any second. Who would have thought that you will end up making out with Mark Lee, both shirtless on Johnny’s bathroom?

But you stopped and lowered your head, “Let’s meet again when we're both sober” you stopped because you can feel the drugs kicking in again.

“Yes, please” his voice is low and sexy. “I’ll help you wear your clothes, you look really high. How will you go home?” he grabs the borrowed shirt and helped you wear it. “Friends” you answered watching him help you wear the sweatpants.

“Please come home safe, we have to meet again” he nuzzles your hair making you ticklish, and put your hand on his waist. Then you realized he’s shirtless. He kissed you on the cheek and left to finish putting on his borrowed clothes.

“Ready?” he knocks on the bathroom door and you collect your wet clothes.

Before he opens the door of Johnny’s room, you thanked him “Thank you for taking care of me, and for getting my floating bra before anyone sees” he kissed you in return as if he’s saying that he’s thankful for such a thing.

“It’s not for free, you have to give me your number before you go home” he winks, opens the door, and you two head downstairs again, only to find out that your friends are already waiting for you outside.

“Y/n! Come on! Yeji is already puking!” Ryujin shouted under the loud music, signaling you to come quickly.

“Go. I’ll ask around about you. Go home safe” Mark said before patting your head and gave you one last kiss on the forehead.

As you leave Johnny’s house, you don’t know if Mark will keep his word and actually find you. Honestly, you don’t know how he will do it because school is over and its summer break already. But if he doesn’t, well at least you had a great experience with him in Johnny’s bathroom.

After a day, week, month. Still no Mark. Maybe it’s better to keep it to yourself and not tell anyone what happened because no one might believe you. It’s like magic that you saw in your own eyes and you’re sure that if you tell even a single soul, they will laugh at you.

It was in the middle of the night when an unknown number called you and ruin your sleep. You wait for the call to end but it kept on calling again so you finally woke yourself and answer the call.

“H-hello?” you answered tiredly.

“I know you’re sleeping, but sorry I can’t wait. I’m outside your house”

He didn’t need to introduce himself because you remember that sexy voice all too well. You went straight to your bathroom, brushed your teeth quickly, and met him outside your house. His car parked near the sidewalk and he’s standing in front of it with his hands inside his hoodie. You walk towards him and gave him a friendly hug, happy that he kept his word even though it took him a month to find you and not just you, but your house address too.

“Why is it that every time we meet you’re not wearing a bra?” he asked teasing you.

“I was sleeping, what took you so long?” you cover your boobs with your arms.

“The hyungs had a graduation party in LA so, I just got back. We flew the next after Johnny’s party, sorry. I wanted to find you first, but my sources are kinda slow” he pulls you by the shirt to keep you close to him. “How are you?” he added.

“Sober” you answered with a flirty smile, hoping he gets the message that you want to continue the kiss you stopped back in Johnny’s bathroom.

“That’s great news because I stayed sober the whole day for you. Even ditched Taeil’s party tonight because I was excited to see you” he nuzzles your hair again, lips insanely close to your face as if he’s waiting for your permission to let him kiss you.

You let go of yourself and hook your arms around Mark’s neck not giving a single fuck if your nipples are ghosting through your thin shirt. He kissed you like how he kissed you back in Johnny’s party but this time no more after taste of liquor in his lips. Mark can think of the same thing, instead of tasting the sweetness of the space brownies, he can taste mint and smell your fresh breath.

Then his stomach growls, making you both stop kissing.

“You stayed sober and hungry” you teased him.

“Want to go somewhere and eat?” he asks shyly. You nod your head ‘yes’ and gave him a peck on the lips before you pull away from his caging embrace. “I’ll just get my jacket”

“No no no, wear my jacket. I can’t stand being far away from you, no.” he grabbed your hand and held it firmly. You watch him open the front seat door and motions you to go inside.

With just your pajamas, a thin shirt, and Mark’s hoodie, you two ate at the nearest McDonald’s and had an early breakfast together in an empty store. Laughing and feeding each other dry fries, drinking hot chocolate, and eating burgers with one hand because his other hand is intertwined with yours.

After having breakfast, he drove you where the sun rises beautifully and waited for the sun to rise while you two cuddle close at the back of his car. Feeling each other’s warmth before he drives you back to your house and once again part for the time being.

“I want you to know that this will not be just a summer fling. I will stick to you like a crazy glue until we graduate” he put strands of your hair behind your ear, caressing your head softly like a baby, tightening his embrace. “Thanks for losing your bra, and being high at the perfect time and place” You giggle pinch his scrunching nose and cuddle some more.

Who would have thought that losing your bra in the middle of a party would bring you much luck as having a perfect boyfriend?

Mark continues to love you fiercely without stopping at nothing. For the whole summer, it’s always been about you and Mark, having dates and midnight escapades, having breakfast together in the middle of nowhere, going to parties every week. There were no dull moments whenever you two are together closely.

“You two are always on each other’s throats, when are you going to break up?” Jaemin hands Mark a cup of beer while you’re in between Mark’s legs and seated comfortably on the floor with your beer.

“Never, right babe?”

“Never” you smiled and lifted your head so you and Mark can make that Spiderman kiss that you two were making fun of and laughed at each other because it was an inside joke.

Now that the 127 boys are already in college, the dreamies are the ones who throw epic parties now as if they’re continuing the legacy that 127 left. Tonight, it’s Jaemin who jumped to the pool, and the next thing you know almost half of the people are already wet.

When you were just about to jump and get out in between Mark’s legs, he was quick you cage you with his strong arms preventing you to do something stupid like losing your bra again. “You’re not going anywhere near that pool, young lady”

“You’re missing half of your life already, Mark Lee” he made you sit on his lap instead of the floor so he can hold you tighter.

“I’m holding my life safely here, protecting her from falling to someone else’s arm,” he said and kissing you lovingly in front of everyone. So instead of getting wet and joining the wildness, you two stayed dry in each other’s arms while drinking and laughing at Jeno losing his other shoe in a pool full of drunk teenagers.

Soon after he sobered up, he drove you home and things got a little heated in his car. It was just a goodbye kiss but the next you know, Mark is pulling you to the driver’s seat and you’re rolling your hips on his clothed hard cock breathing heavily and gasping sharply because his mouth is busy softly kissing your boobs.

Enjoying your reaction to the way he kisses your left boob while gripping the other, making his tongue sharp, hard, and make your nipples hard and sensitive to the point where you jolt your hips. “When?” he asks, talking about having sex.

“When we have the time and place? Do you want it now?” you asked back, biting a moan because he just pinched your left nipple.

“At the back of my car?” you nod your head yes weakly, “Can’t. You deserve more than that tight space- fuck, you’re so hot right now”

Your heart beats fast, cheeks blushed because even though Mark’s mouth is doing filthy things on your boobs right now he still managed to be a gentleman. And before something he might regret happens, like fucking you for the first time at the back of his car, he lets you go and kiss you good night. Watching you go inside your house safely, something he wants to do every day.

As senior year starts to get serious, so is your relationship with Mark. He introduced you to his parents and found out that Mark is a pastor’s son. You tease him for being such a ‘good boy’ in front of his parents the whole dinner time but now that you two are alone in his room for the first time he can’t keep his hands off of you.

“Fuck you’re so wet” you’re against his chest standing in front of his bathroom mirror while his hand is inside your panties spreading your juices up and down nicely.

“You pray with that mouth?” you tease him again.

“Yes, and this mouth will make you cum too. Sit on the sink please, and be quiet” he bit your cheek, making you laugh quietly and follow what he said.

The night when you introduced Mark to your parents, is the night Mark figured out how to sneak in your room. “You just have to leave your window open for me, always.” And starting that night, he sneaks into your room almost every night and sleeps beside you peacefully.

Mark was crazy about you, to the point that you two never fight because he never wants to see you frown or disappointed to him. He was beyond perfect, even better than you imagined. He never took you for granted, he respects your decision, he knows you’re always right, and he never took advantage of your hot body even though you’re sleeping with just your panties on and thin shirt during that one night he sneaks to your room.

He looked carefully in your drawers for something you could wear that can make him not hard when he finally lay beside you. And when you feel him put your pajamas you scoffed and sat up, “Thank you, I was waiting for you actually. What took you so long?” you greet him with a kiss and you both lay down in your bed.

“I was high, I needed to sober up before I face you. Jeno made us hit some new shit, I didn’t expect it to be so strong”

You nod your head and raked his hair away from his face but he catches your fingers with his mouth and hand to kiss it. “I love you, you know that right?” he looked deeply into your eyes and embraced you closer to him.

One afternoon after a stressful day in school, Mark’s house is empty and you two didn’t plan on having sex that day but it finally happened. You were both not virgins anymore but the sex was special, it was not rushed and full of tension but rather it was slow and intimate. He was smiling so sweetly the whole time, not like those times when his eyes were full of lust and he just wants to eat you alive.

He is sitting on his bed, one arm supports his weight as his other arm hugs your figure while your hips roll with his hard cock inside of you. He was thick as expected but nice and raw around your walls, you arched your back moaning over and over again because both his lips on your boobs and his cock inside you is making your feel good.

The sex made you love each other deeply and it made you both even crazier with each other. After having sex for the first time, you wait for him every night in your room after you do your homework and have sex as quiet as possible because your parents are in the other room.

Sometimes, you two have shower sex in the morning before you go to school and go have breakfast with your parents and pretend that you didn’t just have sex with Mark a couple of minutes ago. But even though sex is now part of your relationship, nothing changed. Mark still respects you. If you’re not in the mood to have sex, it’s no big deal for him.  

Seasons and holidays came by, you and Mark celebrate it with your families welcoming each other to your homes. Halloween is your both your favorite holiday and you two are planning to enjoy it to the fullest. As for this year’s Halloween, you went for an innocent angel and you wonder what your boyfriend Mark’s costume is. The night is still young and the parties across town are just starting. When you arrived at the party you saw your friends dancing and hurriedly grabbed you to come dance with them.

“Hey y/n, you’re far from being an innocent angel. But you fucking look good!” Yeji screams under the loud music while dancing with you. You didn’t know the angel costume would really look good on you, you just thought it’s the easiest costume so you went for it. “Have you seen Mark?” you asked Yeji as loud as you can, she shook her head. But little did you know he’s watching you now from afar, sipping his cold bear admiring you move around Jaehyun’s living room with those angel wings that suits you perfectly.

Already sweating and thirsty, you get yourself a drink when you felt Mark’s hands around your waist. You knew it was him, no one would dare hold and touch you like that. Only Mark can. “You always look beautiful but tonight you look heaven-sent” who wouldn’t blush if your boyfriend compliments you like that. You turn around and see your boyfriend wearing a full-body Spiderman costume, looking fine as hell.

You crashed your lips on Marks, smudging your lipstick a little bit and transferring some color on his lips. “Now, I look nothing like an innocent angel. I look like Spiderman just kissed me” he laughed at what you said and kissed you properly this time.

“Let’s go home and have sex with me all night” Mark’s arms caged your whole frame, you can smell his perfume. This time it's you who laughed at what he said, “It’s Halloween, we can have sex any day” you said as you gulped your beer in one down.

“But that’s the point, it’s the only night I can fuck you with those angel wings” he points at your wings and caressed the soft feathers.

“Good point” you gave him a peck on the lips again, “Two hours tops, I’ll spend some time with the girls. I love you! Don’t get drunk” and you pull away from his embrace, letting go of his hand once Yeji grab a hold on you again. He hates seeing you let go of his hand and watch your wonderful presence drift away with the crowd. Mark spends his time with the guys drinking and getting Johnny drunk while you’re busy dancing while downing every alcohol Yeji gave you. Halloween is indeed the best time of the year.

While walking to his house, Mark was telling you how the boys made fun of Johnny during drinking games and he just passes out on the sink. Laughing while walking on the quiet streets, kicking scattered Halloween decorations. By the time Mark closed the door, his hands are gently cupping your face and kissing you softly showing how much he loves you. “Were alone” he whispers after kissing you. His parents are out for a Halloween party downtown and will be back probably in the morning, his brother is out staying over with friends which means, “We can have rough sex, vanilla sex, anything you want. Halloween is our new Valentines” he kissed you again and slowly walking you towards his room.

Lips never leave each other, he removes his hot Spiderman costume leaving him with only his black boxers briefs. Pushing him to his messy bed before his hand goes to your dress, “Wow. I wouldn’t get the honor of removing that beautiful dress?” Mark pretends to be disappointed. “No. But you get to watch me undress” you slowly unzip in front of him, removing your clothes one by one. Mark’s heart beats fast seeing you like this.

Naked and only wearing your angel wings that he so loves you crawl from the edge of the bed kissing Mark’s thighs and removing his underwear throwing it on the floor. ”So this means I’m going to be on top? For sure you don't want to crush my wings” your legs are already on each side of his body before he could even nod. Grinding on his hard cock making your pussy wet even more, Mark moans deliciously and you smile at him.

He grabbed his cock and lined it to your cunt as you slowly put it inside, making sure its fully in. He groans a little too loud before he slaps your ass and grips it, “Oh - where did you learn that?” He puts his thumb in your mouth and you gladly suck it, “You make me horny, that's all” he removed his thumb in your mouth and puts it on your clit, making you grind a little bit faster on his cock.

“Those angel wings on you make me crazy” he pulls you closer to his chest, arms wrapped around your torso. He licks your nipples softly giving you tingles that go directly to your pussy. Mark’s hands are on your boobs as you start bouncing up and down on his cock. “You don’t look innocent now but you still looked like an angel, fuck me - ” he slaps your ass again and pinched your nipples. “Oh Mark, please take over” you begged as your legs get tired after bouncing on his cock for some time. “Gladly” He pulls you close again, kissing your lips and thrusting upwards taking full control.

He brought you on edge slowly pushing you to cum, “Mark I'm gonna cum” his thrusts became faster when he heard you so you could enjoy your high. Eyes roll back, mouth parted and your body shivers on top of Mark’s. Your orgasm was different in a good way tonight.

“Was that good?” Still catching your breath, you nod to answer his question. He helps you calm down and waits for your body to stop shivering. Arms around yours, playing with your hair, he reached for your lips to kiss you oh so sweetly and make you feel so loved.

“Will you let Spiderman fuck you now?” You were surprised as he got out of bed and grabbed his mask. Putting it on, leaving his nose and mouth uncovered.

You forced yourself to get up and make the iconic Spiderman kiss, “Yes please” he giggles at what you did. Giving him one last peck before you’re on your stomach, legs spread wide and ass in the air. Mark’s favorite sex position. “Oh angel, I don’t need to tell you what to do, huh. Good girl”

Mark is using the tip of his cock to tease your entrance before going in slowly. Rocking his hips back and forth as he lets you moan beneath him. “Feels good angel?” you try to answer him but nothing comes out. Fucking you sharply with heavy breaths, you arch your back so hard to try and ease the tingling sensation on your pussy but it only made Mark fuck you even harder. “Just like that baby. Fuck I love this view” that's why it's his favorite position.

he puts his thumb on your cunt making you cum again for the second time. Moaning loudly as Mark grabbed your ass and fucked you faster. The sound of skin slapping around the room is making you both horny. You begged Mark to stop but he knew you didn’t mean it because you said, ‘faster’ afterward and moaned.

When he came inside you, he gave you three sharp thrusts before going slow again and finally stopping. Cum drips from your cunt, his cock still inside of you as he leaned forward to kiss your lips asking if you’re alright, you smile beautifully.

“I love you” he kissed you on the lips again removing strands of hair covering your face.

“I love you too” you kissed him back, removing his mask and throwing it away.

School has been really stressful and your college essays have no progress and you needed a break from the parties, hangouts, and distractions. Believe it or not, Mark is naturally smart that he can even take an exam even if he’s drunk and he would still ace it. You thought that fact was a joke but you saw it with your own eyes when you knew Mark didn’t study even a bit but he still got an A+ while you had a B-. He got into his dream college effortlessly while you still have to work on yours.

But now that you’re scheduled for college interviews already, you have to leave home for two weeks. That means no Mark, no school, no friends, just you and your future or possible college. You knew Mark won’t take it lightly but you have to tell him sooner or later. Him being ‘crazy about you’ is getting out of hand, even though it’s understandable because he’s your boyfriend and that he’s supposed to be crazy about you, but not in a very possessive way.

During that time off with Mark, everyone in school thought you two had broken up already it made Mark crazy. He made you wear the friendship bracelet he and the dreamies got for each other, “Wear it. So people will know it’s still you and me” there's that possessiveness again.

“I have to tell you something babe” you start nervously, hoping he that he will not get mad. “I have three college interviews, I’m going away for like a month or so-“

“Cool, when?” he smiled calmly to you so maybe it’s really fine.

“Next week. I’m going to be back, two weeks before prom”

“Okay. Just tell me other details so I could at least send you off, kiss you goodbye, you know”

But Mark was at his worst when you were away and working hard for your future. Parties, drugs, girls. He forgot to pick you at the airport when he promised he will.

After you put your stuff at home, you went straight to Jaemin’s house and barged in the party. Looking for the dreamies to tell you where Mark is. “Jaemin tell me where Mark is!” Jaemin was telling you to calm down and Jeno was holding you down stopping you from getting upstairs and see something unpleasant. You were in tears already, sobbing and thinking different kinds of shit that Mark is doing upstairs. Is he taking drugs? Having sex? You just want to see him.

When you finally realized that you’re wasting time and you’re ruining the party, you went home and cried yourself to sleep. Worried about Mark but at the same time angry and furious that you closed your window for the first time and shut Mark out.

You don’t know but, Mark came to see you later that night but when he saw your window closed he was broken hearted and felt that the end of your relationship is near.

The next day, Yeji told you the truth that Mark was having sex for a dare with some random girl from a different school and that she witnessed the truth or dare game during the party last night. “He was acting like those 127 fuckboys, Y/n! The other dreamies were stopping him but it seems like they failed” Yeji explained through the phone.

Days have passed and you avoid Mark with all your power, make yourself busy with prom and prepare yourself to go alone. You’ve been gone for only two weeks but it felt like it was two years, he seems different in any way he can be.

In the middle of a party, Jeno asked you to prom but you declined his offer, “I’m going with Mark even though he’s not on his right mind” it made Jeno think how Mark is so lucky to have you but he fucked up big time. While you were talking to Jeno, Mark suddenly came out of nowhere and punched Jeno on the face.

“You dare asked my girlfriend to prom while I was away! Were best friends Jeno!”

“Mark, I declined. Calm down- fuck,” you turned to Jeno and checked his bleeding lip and Mark felt his heart broke into million pieces. It feels like you don’t care about him. You grabbed Mark away from everyone and made his way to his car, you checked his eyes and you were right. He’s high again.

“Baby-“

“Don’t!- Get in the car” you yelled at him and drove to the nearest pharmacy to buy him some water, snacks and checked in to a cheap motel because their Christian household will strangle Mark if he comes home high. From there you took care of Mark even though you’re mad at him and you don’t understand why he ruined your perfect relationship.

You slept on the small couch because you didn’t want to share a bed with Mark. It just feels so wrong. But he squeezed himself and hug you tightly, crying while he feels so broken because of his own doing, whispering his apologies, kissing your forehead, and making it wet because of his tears.

“I’m sorry Y/n”

Soon you can’t stop your own tears from falling and you feel Mark dry your tears away without forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. “We were perfect, Mark. Why would you do that?”  

“I’m not matured enough to handle you being away from me so I fucked a girl so I won’t think about you being away, I took drugs to make the pain go away but it never did, I missed you. So much. And every day will be like this when we graduate”

Even though he’s high, he knew how to admit his faults. Still the Mark that you loved. There's no way that you can say that it’s your fault just to make him feel better because it’s completely his. But you just want this to be over and fix what was left from the perfection of the relationship you once had.

“From now on, you call or come to me whenever you miss me, you don’t fuck other girls babe. And you tell me if you’re in pain, you don’t abuse drugs. Don’t ruin your life” you kissed him to make him feel better. “Let’s use the bed, your back will get hurt,” you said in between kisses, you feel him nod.

The next couple of days were not easy for both of you, but you both try and bring the light back in your relationship. Starting by fixing Mark and Jeno’s friendship again, good thing Jeno is a forgiving friend and the dreamies are whole and seven again in no time.

Mark asked you to prom in the most simple but memorable way. During one of your McDonald’s breakfast escapade, he wrote the word ‘PROM?’ using dry fries that made you laugh so hard. You ate the ‘?’ to answer his question and showered him with kisses. Just like your first date, you two waited for the sun to rise at the back of his car enjoying the quietness of the morning and birds chirping while looking at each other’s tired and sleepy eyes.

You opened your window again for Mark and he sneaks into your room again but not to have sex with you. He just makes sure that you’re still home, and take your advice that whenever he misses you he comes to you. You’ve been waking up for days with Mark beside you wearing his pajamas, arms around your waist, his body is so close to you.

Little did you know that Mark is counting on the days that he can still be with you. Planning to breakup up with you and getting himself prepared for the hurt. Mark had this crazy realization that he doesn’t deserve your love anymore, it was his breaking point and he knew that he needs to let you go. He realized you can’t be with someone like him.

It was before prom that you realized everything is going back to normal. It took two weeks to ruin your relationship, but it took you only a week to build it up again because Mark is worth it. You decided to go to the nearest college to be close to Mark just how he wanted. It was a crazy decision but you know all too well that what you and Mark have is something special that you just can’t give it up.

“Gosh I’m so excited to see you, it’s like we're getting married or something,” he said through the phone, during your FaceTime call hours before prom.

“Me too. Hey, I need to finish getting ready, see you in a bit?” he nods, ended the call, and let you finish getting ready. You can’t wait to tell him the news about you going to the nearest college as his, surely he will be happy.

As you finish getting ready, Mark is just right on time waiting for you downstairs with your corsage. His tie perfectly matches with your dress, and he looked handsome as always. His hair is brushed away nicely from his forehead exposing it, he wears his sexy round glasses so he can see you clearly when you go down the stairs.

Before he drives away, he handed you a box and told you to open it.

“There, so you can show me off forever” he added. It was a thin sliced diamond white gold necklace that looks perfect around your neck when he put it on you and you weren’t aware that the diamond necklace was a parting gift. “I feel bad about the bracelet that I made you wear just for the sake of my possessiveness”

“But I love this bracelet” you lift your wrist but he’s quick to catch it and remove it from you.

“Yes. And it may be Gucci but, it doesn’t go with your dress” you watch him remove it from you and watch him struggle to put it on. It made you remember that night when he helped you hook your bra.

“You know how to hook my bra perfectly but look at you struggling with your bracelet. I got you” this time he watch you put on his bracelet for him and he felt his heart broke into pieces because he will miss you.

Prom was perfect.

Mark was perfect.

Now that you’re back together, you two became the life of the party again leading laughter and fun together with your friends and the dreamies. Dancing with Mark under the slow song while he whispers how beautiful you look tonight and every day, smelling your perfume while you two dance close. You took the opportunity too to tell him how handsome he is and how girls are getting jealous and envy now that you’re back together.

“Never leave me again okay?” you whisper behind him and held his hand tightly behind your waist but instead of answering you, he kissed you on the forehead.

The moment was suffocating Mark and he needed to do it tonight to stop prolonging the pain that he’s been feeling. “Want to leave and buy chocolate coated strawberries and watermelons?” he asked while still swaying your body, you can only nod in happiness.

Bringing the strawberries and watermelon in Mark’s room, he kissed you oh so deeply that you two ended up naked in his bed. Mark didn’t want to be sad while having sex with you for the last time but he can’t help but feel guilty and feel the pang on his chest while you’re underneath him smiling and moaning his name deliciously and see the necklace that he gave you stick to your skin.

Your legs are perfectly spread while your arms are around his perfect body, lips kissing while he thrust his cock in and out of you. When he rolls his hip a little differently, your hold to his frame became tighter as you roll your head back on his fluffy pillows. “I love you. I love you. I love you” he said in between thrusts.

After having great sex, you two ate the fruits on top of his bed while talking about random stuff that makes you both laugh. You cover your naked body with his blue sheets while you sit comfortably in between his legs against his chest and eat your chocolate coated strawberries.

“I have a surprise by the way” you turned your body to face him, straddling his naked form excitedly hoping to have sex for another round after you tell him the news.

“Actually… Let me tell you something first” he blurted out his mood was obviously down. “What did you feel about what happened to us? Did you want to kill me? Yell at me?”

“To be honest? I was hurt of course but it’s better to hurt than break up. I can’t leave you not when you’re fucking other girls when I'm not around and taking drugs whenever you want. I can’t let that happen to you which brings me to my surprise!” he was just about to talk again but you can’t wait anymore, “I decided to go to the nearest college where you’re going. From there we can meet halfway or I don’t know? Have the same dorm-“

“I don’t want you to do that” he came closer to you, hiding his sad eyes from you and kissed your neck instead and listen to his deep voice, “I can't drag you into this behavior of mine, I think I should fix myself and not drag you anymore”  

Just when you think that everything is going back to perfection again, you feel it crumble fast again. “Were not breaking up right?” he was silent and avoiding your eyes, “You’re not fair” tears are quick to fall from your eyes, your chest feels like it was going to explode, and you want to get away from his touch, but you’re scared to lose him. But you’re too late for that, he was long gone.

“No one prepared me for the feelings that I have for you. I'm obsessed and possessive and you know its not right. It's not about going away for college anymore I don't know how to be away from you”

“That’s why I fixed it Mark-“

“And it shouldn’t be like that babe. If I let you do that for me just because I want you by my side 24/7, is that really love? You don’t deserve that”

“Then do your best to be the one whom I deserve!”

“I don’t know how”

And hearing those words made you remember every good memory you had with him from the moment your arms touched at the party at Johnny’s, until the first time you two had sex in this same room. “How can you hurt me again Mark? Why do you keep on ruining our relationship whenever it’s perfect or starting to be perfect again?”

He watches you wear your clothes and you were sure he was talking but you seem to not care anymore and chose not to listen. You feel his hands on your waist and that made you hear his voice again. “At least let me drive you home”

“No. Don’t touch me”

It wasn’t the breakup that Mark expected. He didn’t know that you wanted to fight but even so, his decision is final. He didn’t mean to ruin a perfect night, he just can’t stand being with you anymore and pretend that it’s not hurting him.  

Graduation came and you made sure to look your worst because there's no way you’re going to pretend and fool yourself that you’re okay. Not to make Mark guilty for what he’s done, but to let yourself feel the pain and maybe just maybe, you will pity yourself for wasting your time being miserable.

It’s a good thing that it’s not yet too late to go back on to your dream college and flew away a month after graduation. Away from everyone, away from Mark. Without no goodbyes or last words, you didn’t turn your back at the airport and imagine that Mark is behind you sending you off with your parents.

You were mad.

But you don’t know why you still wear the necklace every day and go to the nearest McDonald’s and eat breakfast there. You still open your window in your dorm room even though Mark is nowhere near you.

MAIN MASTERLIST

reposted bc fucking tags

[sweetsubharry]

Do you know any Larry fics with relationship during or post the band

yes I do! ^-^ (As a forewarning, under the read more is 47 fics! So this is quite a long post! I just couldn’t narrow them down!) I’ve split them into three sections; x factor, during the band, and ‘hiatus’ :) 

In case no one gets to the bottom of the page I’ll say it again here too! Please make sure to stay safe and read the tags!!

X factor era 

I'd give up forever to touch you by blankiehxrry

just your typical xfactor fic with a bit of a twist

Just Ask Me To by TellMeThisIsNotLove

“You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers.

“Of course I’m telling the truth!” Harry doesn’t even care that he sounds exasperated.

“Oh my god.” Louis grabs the wall behind him as if looking for support. His body slides down against it until he’s sitting crouched on the floor.

He mumbles something but Harry can’t really figure out what it is. He crouches down, and looks desperately at the breaking boy in front of him.

“You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers. “You were not supposed to–”

“I was not supposed to do what? Tell me please,” Harry urges, taking Louis’ hands gently in his.

Or the X Factor era canon fic where they learn how to be a couple and that not everyone is going to be on their sides especially those with plain white t-shirts and saccharine smiles.

horizontal like a quarter to three by orphan_account

The worst part is that Louis just wants to get really rough with him. He's wanted it right from the start, and it doesn't make sense, because Harry's always been so gentle and understanding and sweet, and yet all Louis wants to do is fuck him up.

nonstop earthquake dreams of you by lumineres

And there's heat behind it, blazing, plasmatic, like stars crashing together, like an explosion in space, like a supernova, like a black hole--everything else sucked out of existence. There's no bed and there's no pillow and they're not lying down, just floating somewhere, somehow, and there's no room and there's no X Factor house and there's no Niall snuffling or Liam's deep, even breathing and there's no wind or traffic outside and there's no hum of the heating unit and it's all just Louis. All encompassingly Louis.

or, harry falls hard and finds louis already at the bottom

Could you love me anyway by SadaVeniren

Dear Mistress Lorin: I’ve been reading your blog for a couple weeks now and was hoping you’d give me some advice for something that happened with me and my boyfriend. I’m really worried that I hurt him.

aka Harry and Louis begin playing ping pong during the X-Factor Tour. It quickly gets out of hand.

no we're not friends, nor have we ever been by blankiehxrry

louis and harry get frisky in the xfactor house

give you my fever by beautlouis

And he’s wanted it even more since he met Louis, it's driven him insane, he spends 90% of his life turned on because of Louis and he’s had no relief at all. He’ll wake up at night too hot and itchy, with Louis warm and sweet smelling next to him, and unable to do anything but wank unsuccessfully, with no release. “I can try,” Louis says, close enough that Harry’s eyes cross a little trying to look at him. “I want to, I’ve never been with anybody, like, I’ve snogged people, lots of people, but I’ve never—touched anyone.” He clears his throat. “I’d touch you, Hazza.”

Harry’s breathing picks up. “Yes.” He doesn’t think there was a question but he’s a little overwhelmed. “Yes,” he repeats, dizzy.

*x-factor era. harry's never had an orgasm before, louis gives him his first

During the band

Sweet Baby by jishler

“Haz,” he said, “do you like being held down?”

Drawing a shaky breath, Harry finally looked Louis in the eyes. “I think so.”

Nothing You Can Do (But You Can Learn How To Be You In Time) by Teumessian

A Canon Compliant Semi-AU. Louis braids Harry’s hair. There are good times, bad times, fancy houses, supportive bandmates, secret boyfriends, small rebellions, bigger revolutions, some nail varnish, ribbons, cute clothing, and a Pinterest.

make me feel like i am breathing by crybaby

His eyes are already looking a hint distant as Louis gets comfortable on his knees, running a hand up the hairless expanse of Harry's milky thigh. Harry always starts dipping at the sight of his vibrator, bubblegum plastic with flecks of glitter in the pink. His cheeks pink to match the colour and his eyes go wide, his lips chewing.

(Prompt: how about louis fucking harry with a vibrator backstage before they go on?)

take me into your loving arms by blankiehxrry

twas the night of the brit awards

Just Give Me a Reason by Mr_Stylinson

"Why do people hate me?" is a question Harry is more than desperate to figure out the answer to after reading through negative comments on Twitter about his "What Makes You Beautiful" performance on Red or Black. But this new addiction could potentially decide his fate as a part of One Direction unless the other boys are able to convince their youngest member that his value is defined by far more than a bunch of dumb online comments.

The Pedal's Down, My Eyes are Closed by dancingontheceiling

Louis and Harry bang it out in the dressing room after performing "18" and "No Control" for the first time at OTRA Brussels.

i'm missing half of me when we're apart by orphan_account

Louis can just picture what he looks like right now. Curled up on the big bed in their LA house, wrapped up in one of Louis' sweatshirts, crying his heart out, face red and blotchy, eyes sore, fingers twisted in the blankets as his chest tightens up.

Fallingforyou by gayilystrong

Harry's sick on Tour, which leads to naps in Louis' bunk. Louis of course needs to take care of his baby.

vocal rest remedy by tippytoetomlinstyles

Harry is sick and sad and on vocal rest. Louis helps him get over his sadness by cheering him up the only way he knows how.

Push You Over The Edge (So I Can Pull You Back) by orphan_account

It’s after a long two weeks of interviews and non-stop appearances that have got Harry stressed to the limit of yanking his hair out and throwing a fit and crying that Louis shows it to him, walks in the door with a sleek black bag in his left hand and inconspicuous brown one in his right.

It Feels Right When The Pink Matches His Lips by orphan_account

He adores pink, and pretty colors. He likes deciding what color his nails should be and whether or not this lipstick matches his shirt. He likes rummaging through Jade or Leigh's closets to try on the pretty clothes they have or their make-up drawer out of curiosity.

But the media doesn't. They call him awful names, spewing out article after article. So, he stops. He stops wearing pink, stops painting his nails, stops experimenting with make-up, and Louis notices.

[Featuring Harry as the unconfident member of the biggest boy band in the world and Louis as his very supportive boyfriend.]

Every Move You Make by sunniskies

After the debacle at the Brits, Louis decides he needs to keep better track of Harry.

Obligatory Sickfic by WhoopsImASinner

Harry gets off stage after the Live Lounge and is more than a little upset about how sick he is. Louis takes it upon himself to get his boy home and cheer him up.

Do Not Disturb (kiss me beneath the milky twilight) by SadaVeniren

“I was talking with Nick a couple months back and he was saying how our sex life seemed boring and we’d need to keep doing new and interesting things to keep it exciting or else we’d become boring and heterosexual and I defended us of course but then work picked up and we started living off of studio handjobs and missionary position sex in the dark and so I panicked. I googled BDSM and after looking into it I really want to try some of it because I think we’d enjoy it but we just don’t have the time.”

aka Harry doesn't want to become a boring old married couple a year into their relationship and tries to spice up their sex life.

But I'm Only Human (And I Bleed When I Fall Down). by brooklynbis

Harry wasn't an idiot. He wasn't gullible enough to believe that everyone was going to love him, hell, he was expecting for people to not like him. But a few tweets from Twitter really can be enough to trigger a whole bucket load of emotions.

_______________________

AKA Harry has a lot of emotions, management (particularly Simon) are pieces of shit, Louis is an amazing boyfriend as per, and Liam, Niall and Zayn are all very protective over the youngest member of the group.

You Like Playing Games by orphan_account

Louis knows Harry likes to flirt and tease. Louis knows that he doesn’t particularly like when Harry flirts and teases. Louis knows that Harry knows that Louis doesn’t particularly like it.

But what Louis doesn’t quite know is why, despite that, Harry’s decided to grind against 5 Seconds of Summer’s Luke Hemmings during “Teenage Dirtbag” in the last show in Melbourne.

Basically pure smut.

Make Tea, Not War by adventuring, howdoyouwhisk (popsongdelusional)

"Is he the messiest?"

"Yes."

"Does he do the washing up?"

"Never."

"Does he make his bed?"

"Never."

"Hopeless, hopeless flatmate. Would you rather be with one of these guys?"

"Nope!"

Or: Louis attempts to become a better flatmate, much to Harry's dismay.

Are We In The Clear Yet? by highlinson

The thing is, it’s not anything new. He’s gone through it a dozen times, at least. It shouldn’t scare him, still. Should never have scared him in the first place. Yet he’s trembling as he makes his way through the crowds.

You and Me by louisgrindsonharry

Harry and Louis have dabbled in the idea of BDSM but Harry finally wants to take it farther and Louis has to figure out how to take care of his boy.

We'll All Float On Alright by dancingbean

Harry has a really bad day. Louis is there with cuddles and kisses and scented candles.

You live in my heart by styleztomlinson

As soon as they’re done with their set, Louis only has one thing on his mind and that’s to get out of there as soon as possible.

or,

Harry is sick during their performance at the iHeartRadio festival. Afterwards, Louis takes cares of his baby, and dotes on his husband.

Cause If You Let Me, Here's What I'll Do by stylesforstiles

Five times where Harry is Louis' baby

When the Points Add Up by iwillpaintasongforlou

Louis is physically incapable of following the rules, and Management is smart enough to know his weak spot: Harry. One stunt too many leaves Harry exiled to a room by himself all night and Louis rallies the others to devise a plan to get Harry his cuddles tonight no matter what Management says.

There's a Hole In My Soul, Can You Fill It? by stylesforstiles

Sometimes Harry is so tired. Louis always wants to fix it.

Susceptible to Getting Hurt by page394

"I've always wanted to be one of those people who didn't really care that much about what people thought about them... But I just don't think I am." - Harry

Just What The Doctor Ordered by everyroad

A short little thing about a sick Harry who really just needs his Louis.

Baby, I'm perfect for you by nancy01

Harry broke down in tears. Like loud, ugly, fat tears that made his shoulders shake and his hands come up to hide his face. He made Louis worry, he made Louis scared, he made Louis angry and worst of all now Louis' going to be disappointed in him and think he's being childish and pathetic. well done, have you made yourself proud?. now even louis isn't going to like you, you've pushed him away to.

Louis sighed."Sweetheart, come here." He called with wide opening arms.

Harry doesn't think he's ever moved faster in his entire life. Louis arms wrap around Harry's shoulders, pulling him in close, as Harry buries his neck into Louis' shoulder to try and source maximum comfort.

Or

Paps become to much for Haz, cue protective boyfriend Louis

Never Let You Fall by iwillpaintasongforlou

Harry slips on stage and gets a minor concussion, and Louis insists that he spend the night in the hospital just in case. He then turns into a protective baby lion because that is his Harry and he'll be damned if anything happens to him on Louis' watch. Harry rolls his eyes a lot but doesn't really mind.

Breathe by dontlietomehoney

Harry has an asthma attack and Louis is scared to death. What follows after though, scares both boys, pulling them apart and bringing them together.

Your Reason To Be by KellanCougar

The X Factor was only the start. With their management willing to do anything for headlines, including manipulation that could threaten Harry's very life, Louis fears he will lose everything he loves and be powerless to stop it.

And We Linger On by stylesforstiles

Harry is pouting. Louis takes care of him

don't let nobody touch it (unless that somebody's me) by stylescantstop

written for this prompt:

"louis knows Harry gets handsy when he's drunk, but that doesn't stop him from showing harry who he belongs to."

or the one where harry dances with other men and a jealous louis reminds him he's the only one who can make him come completely apart.

that boy's got my heart in a silver cage by orphan_account

The whole thing is addictive somehow, and not just because of the way that it makes Louis feel, like Harry is his and he'll do anything he says—but because of the way Harry reacts to it, even in public, twisting in his seat and tripping over his words and once even briefly hiding his face in Louis's shoulder because he's so flustered, causing the girls in the audience to squeal and shout.

if we got nothing, we got us by tumsa

Harry is Louis' baby and he's sick as well.

Okay by JustAnotherShadow503

Harry is frustrated.

It's been almost two years since he and Louis got back together, and nothing has changed. Well, they have changed, and their situation has gotten a lot better, but their sex life? Vanilla. Completely and utterly vanilla.

Harry really thought that after Louis' dirty talk when they got back together, they would get into some kinkier shit, but nope. Louis still makes love to him and calls him sweet names, and that's nice, Harry absolutely loves it, but sometimes, he gets this itch that making love can't scratch.

Or, the one where Harry and Louis try to start a dom/sub BDSM relationship, and nothing goes according to plan.

Gentle Sin by userkant

Harry gasps. He gasps at what must be a sudden pain, or maybe at his sudden orgasm that has him tightening around Louis, forcing Louis’ own release, or maybe all of these things are connected.

Or, Louis discovers a few things about Harry.

A fic about kink exploration and pleasure-pain featuring baby boyfriends, tenderness, and gentle dom Louis.

I'll Look After You by stylesforstiles, TrynaGetStylinson

Harry's had enough with the mobs. He just needs someone to tell him it will all be ok.

Let Me Be Good For You by onlyhuman

His distress over the bun is nothing compared to the thrill Louis feels shoot up his spine at the outfit Harry’s donned. He’s changed into leather jeans that cling to his legs, hugging his thighs snugly. On top of it, a floaty, black sheer shirt is contouring his frame, doing absolutely nothing to hide his puffy nipples or the endless array of tattoos scattered across his torso. It’s Louis’ favourite outfit in the entire world.

Or, Niall's only birthday wish is to go clubbing with his boys in Vegas. Harry ruins it all by wearing that god forsaken black sheer shirt.

leave you drowning until you reach for my hand by orphan_account

If Louis told him to do something that he really didn't want to do, it would be different, but Louis's never done that, never asked anything of Harry that he couldn't handle. Except—except maybe this; to obey him without praise, reward, approval, or even mere acknowledgement.

Beneath the Suits by someonethatsfunny

Harry and Louis had a bit of a ritual when it came to award shows. And that ritual didn’t lend itself very well to after parties or being around other people in general. Nope. They were much better off alone where they could have their own private celebration. So what happened after the AMAs then when Niall and Liam head to an after party and Harry and Louis were nowhere to be found? Well, obviously we can't be sure, but it was probably something along the lines of ....

During ‘hiatus’

Mon Petit by coffinofachimera

Harry wears the 'Mon Petit' sweater while Louis records them on their private plane.

Things Are Pretty Good From Here by ItIsWhatItIs9194, Teddy1008

Harry's just released "Sign of the Times," and of course, Louis can't help but want to let his sub know how proud he is of him with more than just words.

They basically fuck.

head head heart by turnyourankle

After Dunkirk has wrapped filming, Harry struggles with his inability to reach subspace. He tries taking the matter in his own hands before Louis intervenes with a plan of his own.

Model's Own by Domeaspreadsheet

Harry hadn’t wanted him to see the Another Man shoot until it dropped, wanted it to be a surprise. He’d already come home with his hair chopped off, how many surprises could there be?

Louis pulls up Harry’s instagram, the notifications for three posts coming through right after the other. Harry was off at a spin class, and here Louis sits, staring at Harry’s face, the three covers forming a neat line, all so different, yet all so very Harry. He zooms in on one, knows he must be seeing it wrong, but no. Harry is wearing a collar. On the cover of a fucking magazine.

Beside Me Like a Silhouette by Domeaspreadsheet

“Quite the ruckus from someone who thought they were coming home to a sleeping household,” Louis says on an exhale of smoke.

Oh. Harry has been set up.

“Well, maybe if I hadn’t thought you were bailing on me I would have tried harder to be quiet,” he huffs.

Louis levels his gaze at him. “Is that so?”

Harry nods.

“Very well. You have fifteen minutes to shower and put in the plug I left on the bathroom counter. No need to dress afterward. When you come back, kneel next to the chair on my right. You may go.”

redder than the devil by mercutionotromeo

It's half past 9, and all Harry wants is for Louis to touch him. Preferably after a good spanking.

If you combine a lazy Saturday afternoon with a distracting, pouty Harry, you'll end up with Louis spanking his baby over his knee in the middle of a paused FIFA match.

i'll be your sunflower by scagnetism

“What do you think’s gonna stop us now?” Harry says cheekily, laughter in his voice as he looks up at Louis. “Something’s gotta get in our way like always, doesn’t it?”

“Ha,” Louis grins, kissing his cheek and holding open the door for him as they make their way toward the car. “Nothing’s gonna interrupt us this time. ‘S gonna be perfect, just like Pumpkin.”

Or, a few interruptions aren't going to stop Harry from having a perfect pregnancy and having the family he and Louis have always dreamed of.

Take Me for a Spin by QuickedWeen

The night of the Pride of Britain Awards 2016. Louis goes to the ceremony and out to the club afterwards, but what is Harry up to?

Baby, Honey by lovelarry10

Harry's been talking about sex and babies on stage too much for Louis' liking, so he decides to give him what he wants...

Or the one with the aftermath of Harry's Detroit concert...

Half Fragment by coffinofachimera

Louis and Harry share a night together through the phone.

As always I hope you enjoy these! Make sure you read the tags and stay safe lovelies ❤

[xjoonchildx]

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter three: koreatown

pairing: jungkook/reader

word count: 3.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings:  criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

A/N: so...as i’m turning this PWP into a P “with” P i actually had to add some plot lol. i really hope you guys like the direction this story is taking and i’m starting to feel a bit more confident about how it’s going to end. but please let me know what you think, hearing from you guys makes my day. i’d love to know if you think the plot is making any sense.  i mean, as much sense as a story about jungkook as a super hot criminal robber on the run with a federal agent lover could possibly make, ya know?

xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna​ who’s smut is even better than her art

***********************

A postcard comes in the mail seven weeks after San Juan.

Colorful block letters urge you to VISIT BELIZE over decorative shots of the country’s beautiful beaches and most visited spots.

The only thing that appears to be written on the card is your address. You examine it dozens of times, looking from front to back for any other marking. You come up empty.

There is one unusual thing you notice, though.  

The postmark.  

Clearly written at the top: Los Angeles 90005.

There’s no way this card was mailed out of Belize and there’s very little chance Jungkook managed to get back inside the country without setting off a thousand alerts on your phone.  

You assume he must have routed it through his parents.

You’ve tried so damned hard these past few weeks not to think about what happened in Puerto Rico.  You’ve tried to forget the full-body shock you experienced when he asked you to play along with his absurd fantasy.  You tell yourself there’s no way he could possibly believe that you would go on the run with him.  

But then you remember the look on his face.

Seeing this postcard -- holding it in your hands -- makes San Juan real again. It’s not some bizarre fever dream you had or some figment of your imagination.  The emotions it dredges up are uncomfortable to confront. 

Is he in trouble? Is he asking for help? What are you supposed to do with this?

Logically, you know there’s nothing you can do.  

So you slip the card into your bedside drawer and file the information away in that part of your brain that seems to now be dedicated to thinking about Jungkook Jeon full-time. 

************************

Over the next few weeks, two more cards arrive.

Guatemala.

Honduras.

That fake passport Jungkook apparently managed to get his hands on seems to be getting a workout.

Each time a new card comes in the mail -- always postmarked out of LA, the knot in your stomach seems to loosen.  He’s still going. He’s not locked away somewhere.  

Not yet, anyway.

You try to remind yourself that he’s smart -- really, really smart. He has a knack for staying under the radar. His Spanish is probably pretty decent at this point. He’s making or finding enough money to stay on the move.

Maybe he’s got a plan. Maybe he’s figured something out.

But it’s hard to keep the anxiety at bay. You watch your phone like a hawk, waiting to see an email or text saying he’s been caught.  You spend every day waiting for the other shoe to drop.  

So the cards go into your drawer -- and you get up and get dressed and go into the office every day like you’re not secretly rooting for the criminal so many of your colleagues are looking for.

*************************

The other shoe finally drops when you bump into Agent Novak in the cafeteria one afternoon. 

Novak is one of those guys who looks like he’s straight out of central casting on a crime show.  He has the appearance of a boxy, overgrown boy.  Always dressed in a muted grey suit, always sporting a military-grade short haircut.  The only thing that stands out on his completely non-descript face is his big mouth.

And right now you should be very glad for his big, fat mouth.

“You hear about your boy Jeon?” he asks, while piling his plate high with mac and cheese.  The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end for a moment at the mere mention of Jungkook’s name.

You move down the buffet line next to Novak slowly, the sudden adrenaline rush making your limbs feel weak and loose.

“Jeon?” you ask with feigned nonchalance. “Courthouse Houdini?”

“That’s the one,” Novak says, dropping two huge pieces of fried chicken onto his plate.  “My buddy in the Marshals says they’re pretty close to bringing that asshole in,” he continues, adding some crinkle fries into the mix for good measure.

God, you hope he doesn’t have a heart attack before you get all the information you need. 

He needs a trough, not a plate.

“Well, it’s about time,” you reply carefully and you hope it sounds convincing.   “Where?”

“Central America,” he says, reaching down to his plate to start picking off the crinkle fries one-by-one.  “Guatemala or some shit.”

A chill runs up your spine when you think about those postcards in your drawer. 

They’re close. 

They could be there right now.  

He could be in handcuffs again right now.

“Hope they have better luck than I did keeping him nailed down,” you say, willing your voice and face to stay even.

“Oh trust me,” he says, talking around a mouthful of crinkle fry. “They’re going to teach that motherfucker a lesson when they get their hands on him.  He won’t be able to walk, much less run.”

You swallow against the bile rising in your throat.

“That’s what he gets, right?”

Novak nods, grabbing for a chicken finger. You cringe when he shoves it into his mouth. Tiny pieces of the breading stick to his lips and you fight the urge to gag. 

God, has he always been such a pig?

“Damn straight.”

****************************

You circle the block three times before you feel comfortable enough to park.  

The neighborhood is quiet and clean and solidly middle-class.  The house you are looking for is neat and well-kept, lawn trimmed and flower beds nicely maintained. It looks like a nice place to live.

You cut the ignition and take a deep breath.

You have to remind yourself that Jungkook is not Al fucking Capone and there’s no reason for the government to have around-the-clock surveillance on his family home.  You have to maintain a level head even under this insane set of circumstances.

You try not to think about how furious he would probably be if he knew you were here right now.  

Maybe someday he’ll understand why you’re doing this.

Maybe someday you’ll understand why you’re doing this.

You’d worked late at the office, preferring to make this move when the sun went down.  You’re glad for the cover of darkness when you step out of your car and knock on the front door at the Jeon family home.

“Can I help you?” 

You take a deep breath when Mr. Jeon opens the front door. He has the same kind, handsome face as Jungkook, only his is weathered with age and worry.  

“Mr. Jeon, I need to speak with you about your son.”

His eyes widen for a moment. He seems to pull back and assess the way you’re dressed, figures out you’re one of those government-types.

“I’ve already said everything I have to say on the matter,” he says shortly, moving to shut the door.

“Wait, please,” you say urgently.  “I’m trying to help him, I swear. I can explain if you let me in.”

He stops for a moment, levels you with a critical look.

“I think he’s in trouble,” you say quietly.

Mr. Jeon sighs heavily before opening the door wide and letting you in.  

“I’m sorry to turn up at your home like this,” you say, moving immediately across the living room to close the blinds on all the street-facing windows.  “But I’m not sure how much time I have.”

He watches in total silence but you can see he’s unnerved.

“I’m just...being cautious,” you explain, and he nods.

Once you’re satisfied no one can see inside, you start to calm down a bit.  Mr. Jeon offers you a seat on the living room couch.

“This is a very strange situation, I know,” you admit. 

He remains mute and still, waiting for you to cough up some kind of explanation. 

“Do you know who I am?” you ask.

“No.”

His response is clipped and severe and you really can’t blame him.

“Okay,” you say, blowing out a breath. “Yes, I am with the FBI. But I --” you pause for a moment, grasping for a way to explain this bizarre situation. “ -- I know Jungkook.  Personally.”

Intimately. Biblically, as they say.

“Okay,” he says cautiously.

“I need you to get in touch with him because I think he’s going to be arrested. Soon.”

Mr. Jeon rubs a hand across the back of his neck.

“I don’t know where he is.  And I can’t get in touch with him,” he admits.  “He doesn’t want us to know where he is because then you people will have something to hold over us.”

You wince at the venom in that statement.

A faint voice from another room calls out.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Mr. Jeon says. 

He leaves you alone on the couch in the family room.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your dress pants as you take a look around.  The decor is soft and welcoming, with a few nods to Korea in the artwork on the walls.  It looks like a nice place to grow up, you think. The thought helps calm you.

He reappears after a minute.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says apologetically.  “I would really prefer my wife not know about this. This situation has already caused her a lot of pain.”

“Of course -- I understand,” you say quietly. “So you have no way to contact him?”

“No.  Not directly.”

“Then I need to know how you contact him indirectly.  He’s been sending me postcards somehow. Do you know who could be sending me postcards from him?”

His face falls a bit.

“I shouldn’t say.  I’m not trying to get anyone else in trouble.”

You lean forward a bit, fix him with a look that you hope conveys just how sincere you are about trying to help.

“I don’t want anyone else to get in trouble, either. But if you don’t give me that name, I promise you Jungkook will be. Please.”

Mr. Jeon sighs.

*****************************

You pull the brim of your baseball cap low over your eyes and adjust your sunglasses before walking into Min’s Market.

The small, family-owned store is in one of Koreatown’s most populated neighborhoods. You keep your head low as you dodge people on the sidewalk to make your way inside. An electronic chime sounds when you walk in.

The only thing you see in your quick glance around the store is a young man behind the register. He stands when you make eye contact and you take that as the go-ahead to approach.

He’s not a large guy by any means, but he definitely gives off a do not fuck with me vibe.  You straighten your spine and get right to the point.

“Are you Yoongi?”

“Nope.”

He’s lying, of course.  His eyes are narrowed at you beneath long black fringe bangs and you can’t blame his skepticism given the giant sunglasses and the hat and the workout clothes you’re hiding under.  You look like you’re trying way too hard not to be noticed.

“I need to talk to you about Jungkook,” you say anyway.

“Never heard of him.”

Okay, not entirely unexpected.  You’d come prepared for the possibility that he wouldn’t want to play ball.

You reach into your bag and pull out the postcards, drop them on the counter in front of him.

“You’ve been sending me these,” you say firmly. “And we need to talk.”

******************************

Yoongi takes you to the tiny office tucked into the back of Min’s Market.  The space is cluttered with invoices and notes written in Hangul.  There’s a monitor display where he can watch the surveillance cameras at the front of the store.

He motions for you to take a seat on the one small chair he has and opts to lean against the office desk, arms crossed.

“So you’re Carver Street, huh?”

You take your sunglasses off so you can look him in the eye.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re… a Fed.”

He delivers that line with a cynical twist to his mouth that makes you feel self-conscious.

“Yeah.”

“Shit’s wild,” he says, more to himself than to you.

“Yeah, wild,” you exhale nervously. “Look, I’m sure you don’t want to be involved here any more than you already are, so I’ll just come out with it,” you say.  “I need to get in touch with Jungkook.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes.  

“Look, I don’t know you, okay? Maybe he does, but I don’t.  And I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but I’m not going to give you that information.”

You rub at the corners of your temples with your fingers.

“You know he’s been reaching out to me. You know he trusts me.”

Yoongi snickers.

“We haven’t exactly had the chance to catch up over beers since this whole mess started.  The only thing I know for sure is that he wants you to get those postcards,” he says.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” you concede.  “I’m pretty sure he’s in Honduras right now.  And I need you to reach him as fast as you can. Because they are closing in on him and I don’t know how long he’s got.”

Yoongi shoves a hand through his hair.

“Okay.  I’ll tell him.”

“How fast can you reach him?”

“Look, I said I’ll tell him, okay?”

You tell yourself to relax before you scare Yoongi off entirely.  It looks like his patience with you is already worn thin.

“Okay.  Please tell him to try to get to Nicaragua,” you say, careful to keep the agitation from creeping back into your voice.  “They have a history of denying extradition requests to the U.S.  It could buy us some time to figure out what to do.”

“Us?” 

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a barely-concealed look of astonishment. You feel the blush that spreads across your face all the way to the tips of your ears.

“Him,” you correct yourself awkwardly, “it could buy him some time to figure out what to do.”

He grabs a pen and scribbles on a sheet of paper on the desk.

“Nicaragua, okay. Got it.”

“And please -- if you can -- get him this,” you say, handing Yoongi your own slip of paper with a number written on it.  “It’s a burner.  In case he needs to get in touch.”

Yoongi takes the number from you and nods.

“Alright.”

You stand to leave, knowing you’ve taken as much of his time as you’re allowed.  

“One more thing and I promise you’ll never hear from me again,” you say, pointing to the monitor inside the office.

“Delete that,” you say. “Please.”

*************************************

You dig around in your cabinet until you find the wine glass you’re looking for -- the huge one -- and then you reach into the fridge for what’s left of your Sauvignon Blanc and dump it into that glass.

Nothing to do now but hope he gets the message in time.  

Nothing to do now but watch your work phone and see if he’s been arrested.

Nothing to do now but watch your burner phone to see if he’s contacted you.

It’s time to admit your nerves are shot.  Weeks of heightened anxiety are taking its toll and the past two days have felt like a marathon.  

You run a bath -- make sure the water is close to painfully hot before you sink into the tub.  Your body feels exhausted but your mind is still racing like you’ve shotgunned a cup of coffee.  

You lean your head back against the ledge of the bath and take a long drink of the wine.

What if he makes it to Nicaragua? What does that even mean? You buy a few more weeks of the same on-the-run bullshit and for what? 

What is the end game here? And for that matter why on earth are you doing any of this?

You barely know this man.  And now it’s starting to feel like you barely know yourself.

Your fingers and toes are pruny and the water is lukewarm at best when you finally crawl out of the tub.  You down the rest of your wine, throw a soft t-shirt on and fall into the bed.

All night you toss and turn and when you finally wake it’s like you never slept at all.

****************************

It’s a few days before you see Novak again.  

You happen to overhear his obnoxiously loud laugh just outside your office and your entire body jolts to attention.  

You jump up from your desk and peer outside.

Novak is busy chatting up a woman who works a few spaces down, no doubt boring her with unwanted banter about his weekend.  He happens to look up and you motion for him to come over. 

“Hey, yeah, I’ll be right there,” he says, and you head back to your desk on leaden legs.

Maybe he knows something, maybe he doesn’t.  

You’ve got to figure out how to walk the line between interested in the search for Jungkook but not too interested. Thankfully, Novak doesn’t strike you as the type to pick up on the subtleties of most interactions.  If he was, he’d stop bugging that woman right away.

He knocks loudly on your open door when he finally makes his way over.

“Hey,” he grins widely. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” you smile back, feeling a cold panic spread across your chest.  Maybe you’re not ready to hear what he has to say. 

“I was wondering if your buddies ever caught up to Jeon.”

“Man listen,” Novak says, helping himself to a chair. “You are not going to believe this shit.”

Your fingernails grip your legs underneath the desk, dig painfully into the skin just above your knees through the thin fabric of your pants.

“Did he...get away, again?” you ask, desperate to keep a note of hope out of your voice.

“Yup,” Novak confirms.  “Piece of shit cleared out by the time the Marshals they sent down there managed to get to where he was. Some place in Honduras or something.”

Novak shakes his head.

“My buddies are sick of looking for his ass at this point. At some point they’ve got to call it off, right?”

You can barely register a thing he’s saying because oh my god he made it out.

“Wow,” you manage, trying to appear appropriately sympathetic and outraged. “That’s unbelievable.”

“Yeah so,” Novak says, “back to the drawing board on that one, I guess.”

You’re forced to sit through a few more minutes of his blabber and small talk but all you can think about is Jungkook making it out in time.  All you can think about is getting back to your house and to that burner phone.

When Novak finally stands to leave, you nearly sigh out loud with relief.

“Hey, good luck to your buddies, yeah?  That’s got to be pretty frustrating,” you say, walking him out the door. 

“Yeah, I’ll pass the message along,” he says. “I’m sure you’re just as ready as they are to see this guy get what he deserves.”

You smile weakly.

“Oh, definitely.”

***************************

You make a beeline for the ladies room and walk right into a stall.  

Once inside, you drop the seat lid and sit on top, desperate for just one moment to be alone with your thoughts.

He made it out.  He’s not in custody.  Maybe there’s a way to fix this entire mess.

Then you fall apart. 

You’ve reached the limit of what you can handle without some kind of emotional release.  The panic and the anxiety and the relief and the hope come together and boil over inside you.

The tears start coming and they don’t stop. 

You have to flush the toilet three times to cover the sound of your sobs.

***************************

You race home from the office and practically dive for the burner phone in your nightstand.  The entire drive back, you’ve told yourself not to expect a message.

It’s entirely possible he doesn’t want to contact you.  

It’s entirely possible that he doesn’t have anything to say to you after the way you left things in San Juan.  You tell yourself to be ready to see absolutely nothing when you check the burner.

But when you do unlock the phone, you find a waiting text.  You steel yourself for what he has to say.

nicaragua is boring [ 3:15 PM ]

send nudes [ 3:15 PM ]

You laugh.  

You laugh for so hard and so long your tears gather in the corner of your eyes.  You laugh until your sides start to hurt from the absolute absurdity.  

It’s so him that you have to laugh.

That night, when you fall into bed you sleep an inky black sleep, without dreams or interruptions.  

It’s the best rest you’ve gotten in weeks.

************************

[astrovian]

the official ranking of RA photoshoot outfits (pt. 1)

as @dykethorin​ said when I first proposed doing this particular ranking,  “Some real Decisions™️ were made” with these shoots y’all

all photoshoot outfits (for part one) under the cut

the official ranking of Daniel Miller outfits here

the official ranking of Adam Price outfits here

the official ranking of Claude Becker outfits here

guys, I’m crying with laughter

hey quick question: what the fuck was this photoshoot??? (and also I need current RA in these poses)

it’s real nice to see a fun, loosey-goosey RA (before he established himself in the broody-character archetype) but there are so many questionable fashion choices here

when I started this list I had two options:

1)     allow some leeway to the older photoshoots because, let’s be real, the early 2000s were an atrocious time for fashion that a lot of us would most rather forget we participated in

2)     judge them by today’s standards, which is harsh but some of these outfits deserve it

naturally, I chose option #2

It’s so hard to even pick where to start. the too-loose pants? the ill-fitting suit jacket? The untucked dress shirt that is for some god-forsaken reason undone in two separate directions??

I have chosen one thing that sums the outfit up as a whole: what monster decided to put the shirt collar over the suit jacket????

the jazz hands scream “hey I’m a FUN guy” but the suit screams “I’m the yo-pro asshole at the office who is so unreliable you’re pretty sure some nepotism must surely have had an influence during the hiring process”

I originally said ‘I guess we should be glad there’s no surfer necklace’ but then I had the horrifying realisation that it’s a 50/50 shot as to whether that would improve this outfit or make it worse. and you know when there’s even slimmest chance a surfer necklace could improve an outfit somehow that it’s time to take a good hard look at yourself

1/10 just because this photoshoot made me genuinely laugh out loud

wait I’m sorry, what-

how on god’s green earth is this the same photoshoot (?) as guys, I’m crying with laughter????

the great thing about these lists is that you are getting my genuine reactions as I progress down the images. I had no idea this was the same photoshoot (?) until approximately 10 seconds after writing guys, I’m crying with laughter

this perfectly encapsulates the duality of man – one moment it’s all goofy jazz hands and the next it’s a hunk-of-the-week moment

this man and guys, I’m crying with laughter are the equivalent of looking at pictures of yourself in high school vs. in your 20s/30s/at your prime. the whiplash is insane

and why is he in front of barred windows?? it appears they were afraid of what would happen if this hunk escaped into the general population

I still can’t believe they kept the collar over the suit jacket though

I’m so conflicted guys, the urge to numerically rank this terrible outfit is strong but uh… as per usual shirtless ones aren’t fair/10

revenge of the killer surfer necklace

do you ever look back at a specific moment in time and are so thankful that someone took one tiny action? one small thing they did in the heat of the moment that probably seemed innocuous at the time but had far-reaching consequences? for example, it might something as simple as deciding to take a umbrella on a bright sunny day only for it to be extremely useful on the way home when the weather turns

this is how I feel about the person who decided RA could leave that top button closed for this shoot

if you squint, you can see the surfer necklace under that top button. and thank god you have to squint

this is such an early 2000s look though. that shirt by itself is fine and would actually look killer with a properly fitted suit nowadays. it’s the shirt dress and loose denim look with makes no sense to me

2/10 for a pretty uninspiring early 2000s outfit

revenge of the uh… 

from the same shoot as revenge of the killer surfer necklace this loses .1 of a mark for adding a jacket, while pretty innocuous, to an already busy outfit

1.9/10

were we really that afraid of legs?

why were we, as a society, so obsessed with loose, ill-fitting pants? why were we so desperate to conceal legs from the general population? what secrets were we trying to hide? I understand the comfort factor on the hand, but on the other did anyone actually have eyes

the sneakers/suit combo I can definitely live with. but those pants (that I’m convinced must be pyjama pants in another life) turns it all into a sloppy, blurry mess

2.7/10

is it a bird? is it a plane? no, it’s… a floating RA?

what is it about photoshoots in the early 2000s where they just make no damn sense. it’s my opinion that the theme/concept of a shoot should not overshadow the subject, and that’s the correct opinion (as well as being the exact opposite as to what’s happening here)

maybe there was a hint or reason as to why floating wizard RA exists in the article that this shoot presumably came with, but I don’t get it. clearly I’m far too literal of a person and need to embrace my inner artist

looks pretty, still weird

moving on the entire point of this post, the outfit, I uh,… oh god

I’m pretty sure this the same (and similar, if not) outfit RA wore in the North & South behind-the-scenes, and how we as a society went from John Thornton’s stiff collar and top hat to this is amazing

maybe we were so obsessed with period dramas back then because it was a nice alternative to indulge our eyes in when we had to face the harsh, cold reality of modern fashion at the time

anyway – trust me, while I am all for a man in a necklace, let’s pray surfer necklaces never come back 2.9/10

I genuinely was looking up “pinstriped jacket jokes” because I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head but then I realised I don’t need a joke here because pinstriped jackets are a joke all by themselves

I feel like there may be a situation where pinstriped suit jackets might grow on me, but this is not that situation

also I don’t really know where I stand on the belt, but I certainly think I’m leaning towards the ‘why’ part of the scale. if you’re gonna make a belt that prominent in a photoshoot, at least make it a fun belt

3/10

I’m noticing a trend in these photoshoots and it’s these horrific backgrounds

I will admit that the non-patterned suit jacket is going with the jeans a lot better here. but now that my attention isn’t focused on that, all I can see are the dress shoes. WHY DID YOU PUT DRESS SHOES WITH STRAIGHT-LEGGED JEANS???

please someone I am begging you, can we as a society get to tapered jeans already

3.3/10

did RA genuinely ever get put into any clothes that actually fitted him properly at this point in time?

look, I know I’ve been picking on the bootcut jeans & loose attire that plagued us in the early 2000s (or 2006, to be specific to this photoshoot). what can I say, it’s the low-hanging fruit. or loose-hanging, as the case may be

I do appreciate that rich brown leather jacket and that smile. but that’s where it stops. someone take dress shirts and dress shoes away from bootcut denim PLEASE

3.5/10

this is the bad-boy from your hometown in every rom-com ever

as with well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of below, the lower rating is simply because from what we can see, it’s just a plain shirt. however, that dipped v-neck? mm-mmm

look at that smirk. this man knows what he’s doing to us, dammit.

why do you persist in hurting us this way 4/10 

well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of

god bless the person who said we need this shirt wet and clinging and only half-soaked

I’m so sad that I have to give this such a low ranking because uh… we’ve established I have a weakness for those biceps

this does also get bonus points for the creativity of “only this portion of your shirt needs to be wet for your close-up” but at the end of the day it is a solitary grey t-shirt even if it is floating in an attractive sea of muscles

4.5/10

the photographer really said ‘who gives a crap about the clothes’, huh?

an interesting shirt! but as much as I love RA’s face, we should be able to see more of the shirt (and the outfit) because uh… it’s hard to make a judgement call on a photoshoot outfit without that

also, it’s just so hard to concentrate on some of these with RA staring into my soul like that

*sigh* 4.6/10

hello sir, are you as kinky as your shirt?

this is one of the few occasions on which I will give the bootleg baggy jeans a pass. interesting choice to go shoeless for all outfits in this shoot – but the way the shirt is all crumpled is annoying me an incessant amount. I am begging you, someone pass this stylist an ironing board PLEASE

4.7/10 for a crinkle-cut RA

all that’s missing is the beer cans

I’m not sure of the short sleeves here. I think with the shirt open as well my brain doesn’t know where to look

HOWEVER, this is an RA from the early 2000s that I can get behind – largely because he’s not drowning in his denim

the nice, plain belt which matches with the shirt? excellent

interesting choice to go with the bare feet – this entire look (and the quality of that concrete floor) screams ‘we’re chilling at a summer party in your parent’s basement in the early 2000s’ if not for one thing – that couch is way too nice looking. am I being too pedantic about this? no. If you’re gonna go for the whole basement party look, you need a couch that’s falling apart and has at least one questionable stain on it

that being said, I would hang out in this man’s basement

it’s a shirtless one so once again, I cannot give a numerical answer/10

I’m not sure if this man is dangerous or is just an idiot

they may have been wanting RA to embrace his inner Daniel Miller here but that is NOT a jacket that should have its collar popped or if it is, it definitely should not be popped that much. just turn the intensity of that pop down by… at least 35%

this look is telling me to embrace my inner lacy, ruffled collar that men in England used to wear around the 1500 - 1600s. I hate it and refute it with every part of my soul

this is what happens when you embrace your inner Daniel a little bit too much 5.6/10

the return of the leg monster

not much to say about this except once again we are terrified to put RA’s legs into well-fitted pants. what secrets are hiding underneath those voluminous billows? will we ever know?

5.8/10

the one that crushed my hopes and dreams and then spat on my corpse

so I admit it, I got really excited because I thought that this was a leopard print shirt and I was like “this is something I did NOT know that I needed until right now”, even if I would argue that it could have been nice in a little bit of a brighter colour. no matter, I thought it was a nice subtle addition to this plain suit and was just very excited at the prospect of RA rocking leopard print even though I almost always hate leopard print in single every form it comes in

and then. upon zooming. a disappointing paisley. sorry, paisley lovers. I hate it

I would also argue here that the pocket square would have been nice in a plain, bright colour rather than another patterned item thrown into the mix. come on stylists, stop letting me down with your pocket squares

also if there is a point where a suit can be too shiny, I think we’ve found it. I could wax floors with that fabric and I’d rather be thinking about RA’s talent & good looks rather than imagining him being used as a human mop

the hand porn is uh… strong with this one 6/10

the hand porn one

the ring is a nice subtle touch but I can’t decide where I stand on this tie. for me, the checks are just a *wee* tad too small. so small that it I’m scared it will turn into one of those optical illusions with a number in it if I stare at it the tie for too long

the pocket square could also have not tried so hard to blend in with the rest of the suit jacket. give me some colour, baby!

Richard really needs to put his hand down so I can actually concentrate on the clothes 6.5/10

 I’m just dotty for this one (I’m so sorry y’all)

so suave. so shiny. I wanna stroke that fabric so bad, it looks so soft

the dots bring a nice yet understated touch to a monotone outfit and GOOD LORD those thighs

they just had to pose him like this to torture us, I’m convinced. also they call him a “commanding gentleman” in the subtitle which is really just unnecessary to verbalise when he’s sitting like this

Someone put me in a rom-com with this man 7.2/10

the modern magician (at least he ain’t floating this time)

I know that the hat should be the focus of this shoot but I can’t get over those shoes

tangentially related, I have never understood why they make men’s dress shoes so excessively long and pointed. these certainly aren’t a good example of this but uh… I don’t understand why men’s dress shoes are clown shoes

I think part of what’s throwing me off is the sockless look. normally I can handle (and even love) it with some shoes but there’s something about the hem of those jeans and those shoes that turn them into slippers when worn sockless

I love the two-tone scarf but what really excites me is the plaid shirt that we can barely see. I’m eternally sad that they had RA hid it in this pose. and also, come one. you could’ve at least gotten a chair with an actual back to it. that can’t be good for his back at all

the one bonus of this outfit is the hat because when do we ever get RA in hats?? and hats that aren’t baseball caps?? a nice, rare touch. but also one which hides most of that face so…

can we talk about the fact that my gut tells me those jean cuffs have been deliberately turned up at the front and all I want in life is to reach into this image and flip them down 7.5/10

*pterodactyl noises*

holy macaroni. that demin shirt. and this shirt’s even a nice lighter denim colour??? and the v-neck?? SIR

I know he’s worn some faux-denim shirts in the last few years (see: Uncle Vanya rehearsal pics) but as outerwear? knocked it out of the park in this one

also I know this is a shirt not a jacket, but this shirt made me think about how I never realised how much I needed RA in jean jackets until today

It could be argued that a nice crew neck cut would work slightly better than the v-neck but that’s really a personal choice

a lovely respite for my weary eyes 7.7/10

a truly, truly blessed image. the sort of image that would bring you endless good luck

I know I’ve given a lot of pants crap on this list but these. these are the ones. these are doing the lord’s work for sure. and god bless the person who decided to shoot from this particular side angle.

and then the shirt?? I’m honestly afraid it may rip if he moves. I could leave or take the tie though. it’s not adding a whole lot to this outfit and I would much rather that shirt be uh… open at the top for a glimpse of uh… well. you know.

this RA outfit laughs in the face of all those early 2000s RA outfits 8.1/10

me running to open my phone every time an RA-related notification pops up

my only sadness is that this shoot was in black & white. we need more action-shot RA shoots!

also the subtle plaid?? *chef’s kiss*

well, I said ‘my only sadness’ but is it also me or are both ends of that tie strangely square? that is throwing me off from an otherwise spectacular photoshoot outfit, I won’t lie

8.5/10 for a man of action

this is what we all like to think we look on the way to work. hate to break it to ya - we don’t

god, that wind-ruffled hair. the rustic look provided by both the suit material & the photo editing. that stare over the top of that coffee mug. the casual ‘I just picked up the paper on my way out this morning’

words fail me

would it be weird if I said I would pay money to be able to run my hands through anyone’s hair that looks as soft and wind-swept as that 8.9/10

the comfiest RA

I love. love. love this outfit, especially the sweater. the pant colour goes extremely well with this one and I’m so glad they didn’t just stick him in jeans. the is the softest, comfiest RA and I love it. this is an RA who you can simultaneously share a beer and takeaway with at home, cuddling up on the sofa while you watch a film, as well as an RA who will take you out to eat fancy pasta at an upscale restaurant.

the choice of sitting on a stool is also great. my only real gripe here is the watch (and even that’s a minor one, really). the watch isn’t THAT bad, but it’s chunky face reminds me slightly of the watches boys in my class would wear in middle school. the watch could be a *wee wee tad* slicker, but really, I’m nitpicking here (and this is the only time I will admit to it)

the more I look at it, the more this becomes one of my fav RA pics. the slight smile. the relaxed pose. the hint of hand porn

weirdly, for some reason this picture gives me the exact same comfy and ‘just chilling out’ feeling as when I hear the song “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer 9.5/10

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

mirrorball

Summary: in every life, that they’ve ever lived, they’ve chosen to come back, and find each other, and fall in love with each other over and over again 

Notes: As promised, another part of my folklore series.  Enjoy!!

AO3

As much as Kurt loved going to the theater or eating dinner in dimly-lit restaurants around the city, his favorite dates were the ones spent at home. 

When he and Blaine danced around each other in the kitchen trying out a new recipe for dinner. When there’s cheesecake cooling in the fridge. With music flooding their ears. 

As they set the table, Kurt brings his arms around Blaine and pulls their bodies together. Their fronts pressed together and noses touching. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he tells him. 

The oven beeps so Kurt quickly moves away to get their dinner before it burns. 

I want you to know

I'm a mirrorball

I'll show you every version of yourself tonight

I'll get you out on the floor

Shimmering beautiful

And when I break it's in a million pieces

Later, when the dishes are on the drying rack and the pots and pans are soaking in the sink, Kurt and Blaine are curled up together on the couch. The playlist from earlier is starting over, the sun has set and the apartment grows darker. 

Blaine sits up to lit a candle but snuggles right back under the blanket with his boyfriend. 

“I love you too, you know?” 

Kurt kisses the top of his head. 

“What if we hadn’t met?” 

“If you didn’t come to Dalton?” Blaine asks. 

Kurt nods. 

“I’d find you,” Blaine says, “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from being pulled towards you.” 

“You really believe that?” 

Blaine just kisses him. 

 Hush

When no one is around, my dear

You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

 For the next week, Kurt comes up with plenty of scenarios for a different life for them. Each time, Blaine has their perfect meeting to go along with it. 

They’re getting ready together that morning. Standing in their small bathroom. Blaine applying gel and Kurt brushing his teeth. 

“If I were a Prince...” he mumbles around the toothbrush. 

“And I, a commoner living in a stone house outside the castle,” Blaine continued, “you’d come into town and bump into me while buying fabric. Our eyes met and boom: love at first sight.” 

Kurt rolled his eyes and rinsed his mouth. “Or maybe you sneak into a ball where I am supposed to find my future husband. We dance together and I just know it’s you. It’s always you.” 

Blaine had cupped his face and kissed him. 

“Minty,” he said with a laugh. 

 Hush

I know they said the end is near

But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

I want you to know

I'm a mirrorball

This back and forth became a game of “What if…” with Kurt normally asking the questions and Blaine being quick to answer. 

“Okay, but what if…we didn’t live in Ohio. If I grew up here and you came from LA.”

“I’m not a Hollywood guy, Kurt, my acting would still take me to Broadway.”

“Maybe your career would take you to the West End in London.”

Blaine side-eyed Kurt for a moment. “Out of the two of us, I think you’re way more likely to go to the West End than me.” 

Kurt chuckled. “You’re right.” 

“And how come in all these situations, I have to come to you. How about you come to me?”

“Okay, you start then.” 

Blaine takes in a breath and decides on his scenario. 

 I can change everything about me to fit in

You are not like the regulars

The masquerade revelers

Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten

 At eighteen, Blaine Anderson was expected to be married. Soon, his older brother Prince Cooper would take the throne, and until he and his wife produced an heir Blaine would be second-in-line for the crown. 

The only problem with getting married was the lack of unmarried gay princes. As far as Blaine knew, he was the only one. Prince Sebastian had tried to court Blaine years ago but ultimately married Prince Hunter of the Southern Kingdom. Princes Nick and Jeff had been betrothed since birth in order to unite their respective kingdoms. 

Due to this issue, his father was hosting a ball. All major and minor kingdoms were invited, especially those farthest away. Even ones that they normally did not interact with because Blaine was in desperate need of a husband.  

Blaine’s only request for this ball was that it be a masquerade. His father, of course, thought this to be a bad idea but Blaine insisted. There was much less pressure on his shoulders if those he danced with and spoke to weren’t sure if he was the prince or not. 

 Hush

When no one is around, my dear

You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

 Kurt’s voice broke the fantasy. “So, in this situation, am I also a prince? Just from a far away kingdom?” 

“If you’d let me finish,” Blaine said, “you’d know that information.” 

His boyfriend lightly slaps his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.”

“Be patient,” Blaine countered. 

“How about this instead?” Kurt inched closer to him on the couch. “We dance together at the ball and I pull you out of the ballroom, charm you, and we kiss just outside the party pressed together in the dark hallway.”

“Then what?” Blaine asked, their lips brushing together. 

“We live happily ever after, of course,” Kurt told him before pressing their mouths together. 

 Hush

I know they said the end is near

But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

 When they wake up from their unprompted nap, the sun is just starting to set. Golden hour tanning Kurt’s pale skin and highlighting his messy hair. 

Blaine only gets a few moments to stare at his boyfriend. Watching his breathing, the small twitches his body makes, and his unconsciousness making him move closer to Blaine. Then, he stirred and lazily opened his eyes. 

“Hey you,” Blaine said. 

Kurt hummed but even in his sleepy state, he gave Blaine a toothy smile. 

“We should make dinner.” 

In reply, Kurt snuggled closer to Blaine. 

“Or we could order take-out.” 

Blaine felt Kurt nod. 

“Okay. Thai?”

Kurt shook his head. 

“No Thai. Italian? I could go for some fettuccine alfredo.” 

Another no. 

“Alright, what do you want?” 

“Greasy fries and a burger.” 

Blaine abruptly moved away to stare down at Kurt, who groaned clearly unhappy that his space heater was gone. Kurt made grabby hands for Blaine to come back. Unable to resist him or cuddling, Blaine readjusted himself next to Kurt. 

“Seriously, you want a burger?” Blaine asked. 

“Yes please.” 

With a short laugh, Blaine grabbed his phone from the nightstand and put in an order for delivery for burgers and fries. 

“Milkshakes?” he questioned. 

“Strawberry.”

And two strawberry shakes. 

 And they called off the circus

Burned the disco down

When they sent home the horses

And the rodeo clowns

 As they unwrapped their burgers, Blaine started another scenario. 

“Alright, this time I’m a famous sports player.”

Immediately, Kurt cut him off. “What sport?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Blaine told him. “And you’re dragged to a game with your dad or Finn or someone.” 

“It matters to me.” Kurt sipped his shake. “If I’m to form a successful happy ending, I need all the information, Blaine. You know I’m a detail guy.” 

Blaine bites his tongue. As usual, Kurt’s stubbornness was shining through. Except this time, he was clearly joking if his smirk had anything to say about it. 

“Football.”

“You better get taller and put on some muscle mass first. You’ll get pummeled.” 

"Says the formed McKinley High kicker."

"And I would've been pummeled otherwise," Kurt tells him.

“Fine, not football. Um, how about hockey?” 

“You are an excellent skater.” 

“Thank you.” Blaine beamed. “Anyway, I’m a jock and you’re a non-fan.” 

“Professional jock,” Kurt corrected. 

“Eat your burger and listen.” 

 I'm still on that tightrope

I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me

I'm still a believer but I don't know why

I've never been a natural

All I do is try, try, try

I'm still on that trapeze

I'm still trying everything

To keep you looking at me

 Kurt couldn’t believe he was letting his dad and Finn drag him to a hockey game. It’s freezing even if they’re not right up against the glass. Despite hot chocolate in his hands, Kurt’s shivering. 

“Tickets came with money on them. Go buy a sweatshirt,” Burt says. 

“You can take my coat,” Finn offers. “I want to show off my jersey anyway.” 

Kurt takes Finn’s coat but instantly hands it back because it’s way too long and he can’t sit comfortably with it on. 

“I’m going to the gift shop.” 

“Be back soon if you don’t wanna miss the puck drop,” Burt tells him.

It’s hard to get lost in a hockey stadium because it’s just a circle so long as Kurt has his ticket he can get back to the seats. He finds the gift shop to be mostly empty despite the insane amount of people here for the game.

He remembers the patriotic colors his dad and Finn were wearing and tried to find the least offensive sweatshirt that supports the Ohio team. 

“You don’t have to get Blue Jackets just cause you’re from Ohio,” a voice tells him. 

“I rather not get booed at,” Kurt replies, resisting the urge to say the booing would be by his own family. 

“Fair enough.” The man shrugs. “I’m partial to the black and silver of the Kings.” 

Kurt looks at the sweatshirt in question. It’s much less...loud than the Blue Jackets.

“Isn’t that the opposing team?” 

He smirks. It’s then that Kurt really gets a good look at the man. He’s not wearing either team’s colors. No nametag or uniform either. So, he probably doesn’t work for the stadium. 

“Who are you exactly?” 

“Blaine Anderson.”

Kurt shakes his hand. “Kurt Hummel.”

“Nice to meet you, Kurt.” 

“You too but that didn’t answer my question, who are you? You don’t work here and you don’t seem overly invested in the game since you couldn’t be bothered to wear either of their jerseys.” 

“Let’s just say, you’ll see me on the ice.” 

Then, Blaine handed Kurt a piece of paper with his number on it and walked off. 

 Because I'm a mirrorball

I'm a mirrorball

I'll show you every version of yourself

Tonight

By the time Blaine has finished his alternative meeting, Kurt has dragged him away from the kitchen into the living room. He moved their coffee table out of the way and pushed the sofas back. 

“So, I find out you’re a hockey player after the game,” Kurt said, “I text you on the way home asking if you were distracted because your team lost.” 

“And I say, I couldn’t keep my eyes on the puck because I was searching for you in the stands.” 

“Cheesy.” 

Blaine smiled. 

Kurt extended his right hand, “may I have this dance?” 

“There’s no music,” Blaine answered but placed his hand into Kurt’s regardless. 

Kurt pulled their bodies close so Blaine could rest his head against Kurt’s shoulder. Tucked together swaying in their living room. 

“You’re all the music I need.”

[et-lesailes]

the bodyguard | pt. 3

series masterlist

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

word count: 1381

chapter summary: curtis finally gives you what you want, but not without ensuring he gets what he wants too.

themes: smut, manipulation, degradation, edging

taglist: @tanyam93​​, @bval-1​​, @wonderwinchester​​, @patzammit​​, @rohaintahquil​​, @deidrashouseofpain​​, @sammyslonglostshoe​​, @jadedhillon​​, @bohemian-barbie​​, @whysparker​​,  @sebabestianstan101​​, @lille-kattunge​​, @teller258316​​, @peach-acid​​, @allsortsofinterests​​, @xoxabs88xox​​, @heyiamthatbitch​​, @cptn-sgrogers​​, @heyyouwiththeassbutt​​, @bangtan-serendipity​​, @troublermalik​​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​​, @bookish-shristi​​, @kind-sober-fullydressed​​,  @gingerninjaprincess16​​, @straightforwardly​​,  @denisemarieangelina​​,  @frencchfries​​, @xlanawriter​​, @littlemoistcarrot​​, @pottxrwolff​​, @arianatheangelworld​​, @southerngracela​​, @nsfwsebbie​​, @rororo06​​, @savemesteeb​​, @raveviolet​​, @hurricanerinwrites​​, @captainamerica-is-bae​​, @shaddixlife​​, @tessa-bl​​, @marvelouspottering​​, @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc​​, @thegetawaywriter​​, @dwights-new-plague​​, @rynabarnesrogers​​, @fckdeusername​​​,  @doloreschanal​​, @ssworldofsw​​, @la-cey​​, @buckybarnesplumwhore​​, @hevans-angel​​​, @chuckbass-love​​​, @stardust-galaxies​​​, @smyfmj​​​, @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​​

notes: would love to hear your feedback! graphic creds to @allthefandomstogether​ ~

A day becomes two, three, four, five…

One week goes by and Curtis has barely even looked at you. He resumes his bodyguard duties, but he doesn’t even entertain your feisty backtalk anymore like he used to. You’ve hardly heard a word from him unless he absolutely needs to talk.

You can’t even begin to explain the psychological torture. And the physical torture. Ever since that day, all you can think about is Curtis- he takes up every inch of your mind until you feel that familiar wetness pool between your legs, the heat driving you insane. He sees you retreat to your private cart at random times, and you’re convinced he knows why. In fact, you want him to know. You’re shameless. As your fingers tease your wet folds, rubbing and pumping and doing everything you can to satiate yourself, it’s his name you’re moaning aloud, just hoping he walks in on you. Maybe then he’ll get the urge again. 

But it never happens. The way he talks and acts is as though he’s had no regard for you whatsoever, let alone forced you to take his cock in your mouth. You’re paranoid now. Are you no longer of interest to him? Does he find you repulsive? Is there some front section slut he finds more appealing? Did you do something wrong? Your mind is racing with all sorts of scenarios, each one pointing to you being at fault, to you not being good enough. Why do you even want to be good enough? You don’t know. He’s certainly turned the tables, and you’re becoming more and more desperate. It isn’t long before you finally snap. 

Little did you know that was exactly what he wanted. 

“Look at me, right now!” you practically scream as you approach him, your eyes fiery and your fists balled at your sides. “What did I do, huh? I did everything you asked! I-- I obeyed you, I made you cum, didn’t I?! Why don’t you want me anymore??” You know you’re throwing a hissy fit at this point, but you can’t help it. He’s officially driven you mad. 

He looks down at you, actually thrown off for a moment- the most emotion he’s shown in the past week. He then raises a brow. “Do you want me to want you, Y/N?” he asks, his voice dangerously low. You open your mouth then pause, knowing if you say yes, you’d be admitting to everything your pride would never let you admit to before. His blues are practically piercing through you at this point, chillier than the ice outside. 

“Yes.” You finally whisper, then raise your voice, repeating, “Yes! Yes, because I want you! I want you to fuck me already, Curtis- no, I need you, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” 

“Is it the truth?” he asks simply, and you look at him incredulously. “I-- I tell you all of that, and that’s how you-” you pause, taking a moment to register this as you turn around. You can’t believe it. You’re mad now, furious. You even have a little bit of an idea of how he feels every time you would act difficult with him. But you don’t care about that now. 

You whirl back around, nothing but frustration and anger in your features. “Yes, it’s the fucking truth, okay?!” you yell, stepping closer to him and shoving at his chest. “Soak it in, revel in it, bask in all the goddamn glory- yes, a front sectioner wants you. I can’t stop thinking about you, I even touch myself thinking about you, did you know that?? So just fucking-”

Before you know it, he’s suddenly grabbing your arm and dragging you into your private cart, the doors loudly sliding shut behind you. “God, you talk too much.” He growls, moving his hand to hold you by the throat as he pins you against the wall. You gasp loudly, instinctively reaching up to grip his wrist, staring up at him- you recognize that cocky, hungry glint in his eyes. “I’ll give you just what you need, Y/N, because you’ll be giving me the same.”

You don’t even have time to ask what he means. He’s ripping your clothes off, and then his own, his length standing thick and proud. He grabs his wrists and holds your arms above your head. He then presses himself against you, rubbing his tip upon your folds already practically dripping with need from waiting so long. “Go ahead. Beg.” He demands sharply, and a shameless moan escapes your lips as you desperately grind against him. “Please, please Curtis! I need you inside me, right now, please!!” 

He thrusts into you roughly and deeply, groaning to himself as he grits his teeth tight. You whine and whimper feeling the force of his hips starting to slam against yours, your nails digging into your palms as you clench your fists tightly. “Aah… ah, oh… fuck…! Curtis…!” Your body knows just how much you wanted this; you already feel yourself getting close. Your walls begin to tighten, your breaths become more pitched, your eyes rolling back…

And then he pulls out. 

You actually gasp. The sudden emptiness is almost painful. You stare at him in complete shock. “What-- What the hell are you… Curtis!!” He looks at you barely panting, but a wicked smirk slowly crosses his lips. “Get ready, princess. It’s going to be a long night.”

He does it again. And again. And again, and again. With his dick, with his fingers, with his tongue, even with your hairbrush. You’re a mess- your skin is red and hot, your body is quivering almost violently, your hair is all over the place, your lips are nearly bleeding from biting them so hard. He looks almost as tortured, but he keeps it together. He must have practiced this entire week, you can tell. At this point, you’re almost ready to cry.

“Stop, stop Curtis, please! Please, I’m begging you,” you gasp out, your shoulders shaking, your voice desperate and barely cohesive. “I’ll do anything, just let me cum already, please!”

He looks at you for a few moments before leaning in, murmuring something into your ear. You listen in complete shock, your eyes staring straight ahead as you process what he’s telling you. But you nod your head, even though you know you’ll regret it later. You need him. You’ve never needed something, someone so badly before. 

“Good girl.” He thrusts himself inside you, placing one hand on the wall next to your head for support, groaning as he moves his hips back and forth roughly. You cry out from the sensitivity, but you’re already closer than ever from all the stimulation. When you finally release, you squirt all over his cock, a pleasant surprise for him- he groans as he cums deep inside you, keeping himself pressed in as much as he can in order to not spill a single drop. 

When he pulls out, you slowly slide your back down the wall, seating yourself on the floor completely exhausted, breathless, and shocked upon what just happened. 

“You are completely obedient to me now, aren’t you? You agreed so fast,” he breathes out huskily, plopping himself down to sit against the wall opposite you, observing you with a slight smirk. His eyes drop down to your belly, nibbling on his lip. “You, me, and our little child, running this train together… well, mainly me, of course.” He nods towards the wall phone hanging next to you, murmuring wickedly, “Go ahead. Tell Grandfather what you’ve decided. That you want me by your side. That you’re in love with me, that we’re having a baby together and that we’ll be in charge of this train once he passes.” 

He has you trapped. Your parents died before the train was boarded, and your grandfather doesn’t have much time left either. Sure, maybe you could manage to get his other men to go after Curtis and kill him for what he’s done.

But he’s right. You are completely obedient to him now. You’re desperate to please him, and to be pleased by him. He’s more addicting than any drug you’ve come across. 

You pick up the phone, slowly dialing the number.

“Grandfather…?”