#curly isn’t innocent either but fuck man

[wtftaylr]

I’m obsessed w watching Jacksepticeye’s playthrough haha. Love this totally normal game about dental hygiene :)

[nyancatkuroo]

Hot Neighbor Sakusa x Y/n

Here it is!  My first Miki Mouse Whorehouse collab. 

Many first times this time around, my first omi-omi fic ever, first fic published on this blog and it’s all very exciting.  

BEWARE THOUGH, this is a dark fic so many TW’s to come.

You can thank @undermattsun​ for what you’re about to read, my eyes are still very much burning but, huh, enjoy!  

Choose who to lewd next, from a selection of many other characters and fandoms. I’m just one of many whores who contributed to this collab!

Pairing: Neighbor Sakusa x Y/N

WC: 1.5k

TW: Deepthroating, spitting, hitting (slight pushes), hair pulling, feet sucking, just a whole lotta sucking my guy, oral sex m! receiving.  

A/N: I may or may not have had too much fun talking about crocs and that toe sucking scene may or may not have awakened something in me.

“Fuck! I can’t believe I’m out of eggs too!”

You close the cabinet door and sigh,  that’s just like you to be out of just about anything you need to bake some carrot muffins.  Sure, you got the carrots, but what about eggs and some flour?  As you stand in your kitchen, empty bowls and unpeeled carrots around you, you think of what to do.  

The market is a mere 10 minute walk from your apartment but going out at 8pm on a winter night, where the sun is long gone and the cold is colder than ever, is not something you feel like doing.  You shiver at the thought and scratch your head, at a loss for ideas when your phone pings, startling you from your thoughts.  

You see it’s a message from Sakusa, your next door neighbor, who says to keep it down.  You blush as you realize your earlier scream must’ve been louder than you thought, the whole dorm floor might have very well heard you.  As you’re typing out a response, you get an idea.  

To Sakusucks

Yeah wtv, bring me some eggs I’m all out

From Sakusucks

Not happening.

To Sakusucks

BOOOO

I still have those baby wipes you lent me at school the other day

so fresh 

so clean 

Before you even have time to send yet another annoying message, you hear your front door opening and see Sakusa in your living room, as much as a dorm room allows you to have one at least.  

“This place gets more disgusting every time I come.”

You look around, eyeing the scattered plates and textbooks around the room and - wait, is that a moldy piece of cheese on the floor?  How is that even possible, you wonder, before your eyes meet Sakusa’s disgusted face, which happens to also be eyeing the moldy piece of food.  

“Yeah anyways, where are my eggs?”  You say, hoping it’ll stop the man from commenting on the moldy cheese.

“What?”

“My eggs, you know, that stuff that comes out of a chicken’s butt or whatever.”

At that, Sakusa eyes you from top to bottom, a scrutinizing stare that sends shivers down your spine.  You see the dark haired boy walking to meet you and smile innocently his way.  What you don’t see coming though, is his finger, until it’s already down your throat.  You choke on the foreign object having entered your mouth and feel yourself gag.   

Sakusa adds a second finger, then a third, as you suck and choke on the spiker’s hand.  You feel yourself blush under Sakusa’s unimpressed stare and remember how you were able to suck on four fingers the last time the boy came over.  The thought of Sakusa’s dick in your mouth, for a ‘cleaning session’ the curly-haired man would say, makes a familiar warmth curl its way down your stomach and you feel your mouth going slack.  

“You forget your place, you nasty fucking whore,” he berates. You moan and suck harder on Sakusa’s fingers, as he slowly takes them out of your mouth and wipes his hand on your hair before pulling at it, bringing you down on your knees.    

Cheeks flushed, breath still ragged from the fingers down your throat, you look up to see Sakusa’s annoyed face.  You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips at his words.

“Look at you, you’re a mess.”  He smirks before letting go of your hair, showing you his still wet hand, “see what you did, you dirty slut, how should I punish you for making me dirty?”

You feel the spiker’s hand making its way back to the top of your head and feel a forceful tug that sends your face crashing against the hard floor.  

“Take off my shoe.”  Your eyes widen as his words sink in, “Or am I gonna have to make you?”

You look down at the feet in front of you, Sakusa’s toes hidden by his sock and sandals.  “I can’t believe I’m gonna suck toes for a man who wears crocs with cleaning supplies jibbitz on them,” you find yourself thinking.  

Sakusa catches on and mistakes your break in action for hesitancy.  “I took a shower 20 minutes ago, not that you should worry about that seeing the state of this place.”

You quickly shake off the crocs’ thought and take off the man’s right shoe and sock.  As Sakusa rests his back on your kitchen counter, you take his foot, gulp and start licking his toes, from the big toe to the little one, taking your time to suck between each toe as well.  You moan and slurp, quickly getting into it, thinking of it as Sakusa’s bulging shaft, which you see becoming harder and bigger through the fabric of his grey joggers.  

You hear Sakusa humming appreciatively and look up, a mouthful of foot deep down your throat. You start nibbling on Sakusa's toes, in an attempt to please him more, which you apparently succeed in doing, going by the moan that escapes his lips.  

Back resting against your kitchen counter, you see Sakusa open his eyes, hooded lids searching the distance, an easy smile on his face that is quick to disappear when he catches your eyes.  He takes his foot, leaving your mouth feeling weirdly empty, and pushes your face away with the foot that was in your mouth moments ago.  He wipes himself on you again, this time on your bare thigh, seeing as you’re wearing some short shorts. 

He leaves your side and goes to sit on the couch at the other side of the room.  He takes off his remaining footwear before sitting down, his legs spread wide as both a confirmation that he isn’t done playing with you, and for comfort, seeing how his crotch area has visibly tightened.  

You bite your lips, eyeing the very desirable man in front of you, and make your way to the sofa.  You sit next to Sakusa and firmly press your hand to his crotch.  You hear the spiker groan, sending you an aggravated look that only makes you smile as you quickly slide a hand down his pants, taking his already hard cock out of its clothed prison.

You lick your lips at the sight of the pinkish head, ideas already forming in your head, but before you have time to act on any of your dark thoughts, you hear Sakusa call your name.  You lock eyes and feel him taking your hand, which he kisses before slowly sucking off every single one of your fingers. You only take your eyes away from the man when you feel him spit in the palm of your hand.  

You take that as your cue to start massaging his erection, going up and down his entirety with your hand, pumping faster and playing with the head of his cock until it isn’t enough anymore.  

You get off the couch and settle comfortably between the man’s open legs before taking him in your mouth.  You feel full again, now that you have something in your mouth to play with, and start sucking Sakusa off, pumping with your hand at the same time.  

You hear him whispering some sweet curses at you and moan from the validation.  You feel Sakusa gripping at your hair once again, pulling hard to make you face him.  He grips your head with his hand and forcefully opens your mouth with his thumb, positioning himself to face you, and then spits in your mouth before shoving your face back on his dick, which you gratefully welcome back into your mouth, this time letting him use you like a ragdoll.  

You hear yourself gurgling and gagging at each of Sakusa’s furious thrusts, but never deep enough to make you spill your insides out, the dark-haired boy taking his dick in and out of your orifice to let you have a half second of a moment’s rest before fucking your face anew.  

He’s close, you feel it by the way his dick is twitching in your mouth and you scrape your teeth against his shaft to bring him closer to the edge.  Sakusa thrusts deeper and faster, fukcing your face numb until he comes inside of you with a grunt.  He pushes you off of him and finishes by pumping himself dry, coming on the floor, and before he even commands you to clean it off with your tongue, you find yourself on your knees, licking the ground like a famished dog.  

Before you have time to process any new information, you feel the spiker taking you from the floor and placing you on the couch, brushing your hair with his hands and placing a forehead kiss on you, whispering a ‘you did well cleaning me off today’ before getting up to leave.  You didn’t even notice him putting his shoes back on, dick nowhere in sight either.  You feel your eyes close as you hear Sakusa’s voice.  

“Oh and before I forget, I don’t have eggs either.”

The spiker’s words are left hanging in the air, your head still hazy from the cleaning the man just gave you.  You want to answer, but your words are lost to fatigue and you barely hear the door of the apartment closing.  You may not have gotten what you wanted, but Sakusa didn’t get his baby wipes either.  None of that matters though, you think, as you end up falling asleep on your couch, a filfthy fucking mess.    

[femmeharringrove]

so niki has two dads. so what?

if you say anything about it, she'll kick you. and if principal kane wants to meet with her fathers, then so be it.

that only happens twice - first with steve, who walks in with sunglasses high on his face, a cup of coffee in hand, and a stance that makes the shorter man in front of him admittedly uncomfortable. niki is almost gleeful as she watches her dad stare blankly at the principal, then tug his glasses down to eye him more critically. not a word is spoken, there isn't a sound outside of the gentle swishing caused by niki's feet kicking back and forth. when the silence is broken, it's by steve, voice bored and uncaring.

"what's the problem, mister kane?" principal kane looks a little intimidated by the man in front of him - as he should be, niki knows.

"uh - well, uh, you see, nikita got in another fight again with a student, and -"

his words come to a halt when steve's hand comes up to stop them, the other hand perched comfortably on his hip. his head turns to face his daughter, and while his face is deadly serious she sees the sparkle in his eye and knows she's in no trouble here.

"nikita," he drawls, "did you get into a fight today?"

"yeah," she replies, without an ounce of remorse.

"do you want to tell me why?" he pushes, and she does, so she tells him.

"joey carter said that nobody wants to be my friend because i have two dads and that's wrong." joey is full of shit, as uncle dustin likes to say. she has plenty of friends, and all her friends love her papa and her dad. because steve always makes them the best snacks and takes them on all sorts of trips and takes the time to get to know the kids. and billy lets them do his makeup and carries them around the house while they squeal in delight. their parents might have been unsure at first, but steve and billy have made friends with most of niki's friends' parents. but the carters are gross people and their son is no exception as far as the eight-year-old is concerned.

"thank you," steve hums, before turning back to principal kane. the hand he'd held up to stop his talking lowers again and he places it on his other hip. "principal kane, where is joey?"

"why, he's in class," the ruddy man replies. steve's eyebrow arches in the way it does when papa says something dumb, or when niki tries hiding something from him.

"and why is that?" he presses. "are we just allowing students to verbally harass other students now?" principal kane gulps.

"well, you know how children are -"

"i do," steve cuts in sharply. "i'm raising one. do you know how long it took me to teach her not to say fuck because it's not a nice word?" nikita stifles a giggle at the offended look that crosses her principal's face. "picked it up from her aunt," steve continues. "kids just soak these things up, you know." steve pauses to sip on his coffee, hand raising to stop the man from speaking, and then he continues. "joey's parents are bigots, i know that very well, and i'm not surprised joey's picked up on it. but if nikita here said fuck in class, you'd reprimand her for foul language, yes?" he peers through his sunglasses while principal kane nods vigorously.

"of course we would." steve nods his approval.

"i take comfort in that." the glasses come off after that, and steve leans forward to meet the shorter man's gaze. "now, if one of your students says hateful comments towards another, would you do the same thing, mister kane?" niki grins at the way her principal shifts uncomfortably.

"I - I suppose, yes," he stammers.

"you suppose," steve repeats, mean and critical. "well, in that case, if you suppose, i suggest you get to calling the carters. nikita and i are going to leave you to it." principal kane tries speaking up, but steve's already got his sunglasses back on and he holds his hand out to the smaller brunette in the room. "let's go, honey. say goodbye to principal kane." nikita hops off the chair and waves a cheery goodbye before happily walking out with her hand in her dad's.

later that night, he's reading her a story and she snuggles against his side, enjoying the gentle brush of his fingers through her curly hair, and she can't help herself.

"hey, dad?" steve stops reading, sets the book down to look down at her.

"yes, baby?" and now nikita huffs, because she doesn't know what she wants to ask. they've talked about this before, both about gender and sex, and sexuality. she knows some people think something's wrong with her dads, but she doesn't hear it often. it shakes her a little when she does.

"why are people so mean?" she settles on. steve's face falters a little.

because there's no easy answer to that, is there? he and billy have been raising her for eight years, they've been together for five of those years and have only been open about it for three. they've been talking about getting married, about having one more kid together, about moving and settling somewhere new, but he knows no matter where they go or what they do there are always going to be instances like this, people like the carters and this kane asshole. and as much as he aches to protect his baby from that, he can't.

so he and billy have taught her the importance of kindness and understanding and respect. and at just eight, she has such an understanding of those concepts. she's absolutely brilliant, and beautiful, and more precious than steve will ever be able to put into words. he studies the face that peers up at him, brushes her bangs from her face, and holds her close so he can rest his chin on her head with a sigh.

"well, kita, sometimes people are scared," he tries. "remember when papa gave you seaweed that one time we went to california?" he doesn't have to be looking to know her entire face scrunches up in disgust.

"yeah, but that was gross," she points out, making the same face steve makes when he eats something he doesn't like, trying to get the taste off her tongue. steve laughs softly.

"to you and me, yeah, but not to papa. he grew up out there so he was already used to it, but for you and me it's scary. green stuff from the sea? icky, right?" nikita nods against his chest. "well, some people haven't seen gay people before, not like papa and i and our kid living like other families. and that's new and scary. and sometimes, when people get scared, they act a certain way." steve tries thinking for another example. "like when papa brought that beetle inside and scared me, remember that?"

nikita will never forget the way her dad scrambled over the couch trying to escape the bug. she'd laughed until the beetle took flight because that really was scary. the pair had screamed around the house and steve had absolutely refused all of billy's apologies the rest of the night, huffing and pouting while nikita giggled at the sight.

"you hit him," she recalls. it hadn't been hard, just a couple of swats on the shoulder while scolding the blonde man. steve nods.

"yeah, which was mean," he agrees. "but sometimes, people get mean when they're scared. obviously, something like having two dads or liking another guy or gal isn't the same as bringing in a beetle, it's much bigger than that. and when people get mean about the bigger things, it's more than just a little hit on the shoulder."

she gets that too, as much as she doesn't like it.

nikita sighs and wraps her little arms tight around steve's waist.

"i don't want people to be mean to you," she decides, and steve knows she loves him, of course he knows, but it warms his heart to hear a reminder of it.

"i know," he sighs. "but we can't make other people be kind. we can only be kind ourselves, yeah?" the girl nods and smiles up at her father.

"you're the most kindest" she announces, and then niki rests her head against his chest again. he doesn't start reading right away, but his voice sounds a little wobbly to her when he does.

the second time principal kane has to meet with one of her dads, it's over a father's day event in class and professor kane specifically requests billy instead of steve. he shows up a little greasy from work, looks from the principal to a mother and her son, to his teary-eyed little girl, and knows there's about to be trouble.

nikita doesn't know if it's hurt tears or angry tears, but misses hartwell's words sting and she can't get them out of her head. her son jeremy's words had hurt even more, and so a now ten-year-old nikita had punched him right in the face.

"something has to be done, mister hargrove," the principal says. amy hartwell scoffs.

"something indeed. we'll be pressing charges, that's what will be done." billy fixes her with a glare.

"you're gonna press charges against a kid?" he questions incredulously. "i know my girl, she doesn't do that unless he messed up big time."

"my son would never do any -" the woman begins, but nikita has no time for this. she doesn't want to sit here and listen to them act like jeremy is innocent.

"he said i can't bring my dad to school because i don't have one!" she snaps, and billy almost snaps too.

"well, it's true!" jeremy shoots back from the safety of his mother's side. "tell her, mom." now amy looks usure, and principal kane shifts uncomfortably as billy's cold glare flashes to the woman.

"yeah, tell her," he repeats, low and threatening. "better yet, tell me." amy shifts her weight and steps back.

"well, everyone in town knows her mother got pregnant in some indianapolis bar," she has the audacity to say. "the girl's never met her real father." nikita opens her mouth ready to protest and hurl insults, but billy speaks first.

"nikita doesn't have a mother," he growls. "her father gave birth to her, and i raised her. we're her dads, and she can have either of us at this little party, got it?"

"it's not healthy to feed her lies like that," amy argues, "you're poisoning her mind, it's dangerous -"

"- no," niki's dad cuts in. "what's dangerous is saying all of that within three feet of me. what's fucking dangerous is teaching your kid how to be as fucking disgusting as you."

"mister hargrove!" principal kane cuts in sharply. "i will not have you threatening misses hartwell like that!" billy turns on the man with an aggression nikita has never seen from her pa, a wild gleam in his glare and his lips set in a snarl. the principal shrinks back.

"what a time to grow a spine," he bites. "you've let her walk all over my boyfriend and i, i'll say whatever the hell i want." principal kane looks a little scared, backs down pretty quickly. but billy is on a roll. "i know how this works. you think steve and i don't know what assholes like you say behind our backs? huh? well, we do. and it's fucking ridiculous. steve has more balls than you-" an accusatory finger gets thrown in principal kane's face - "and more class than anyone in this stupid hick town is capable of. and you know what? i get it, we can't stop you from being ignorant dicks. but what i can do, and what i will do, is step in when someone brings this shit to my little girl. do you get that?" billy's yelling stops and both adults look at him wide-eyed with shock. jeremy looks scared, and niki thinks he should be. with a decisive nod, billy ends the conversation, he scoops niki up after that and she can feel him shaking as she hides in the safety of the crook of his neck. "you wanna sue us? sue us. we'll return the goddamn favor, trust me." and he stomps out to his car and just stands out there for a little while, clinging to nikita until she stops sniffling.

they don't really talk on the way home, and when they both enter the house steve looks a little confused.

"aren't you both supposed to be places?" he asks, but the little tease in his expression fades into worry as he gets a better look at them. billy leans in and kisses niki's forehead chaste and soft.

"go get changed," he mutters, which she knows is actually code for when he doesn't want her listening to their conversation. she obliges and disappears up the stairs she's known her whole life, right up to her room where she gets more comfortable clothes. she hears steve yell, "she what?" at some point, but mostly the pair are quiet. when nikita does tiptoe down the stairs eventually, they're in the kitchen, her papa's face buried against her dad's neck while they whisper to each other. it looks like billy's shaking again, but she can't tell.

steve catches her after a minute and kisses the top of billy's head before calling her over and holding her tight. "i'm sorry you had to deal with that stuff today," he offers, mumbled partially into her her hair. she remembers the things he said about mean people and clutches onto him a little tighter.

that night, aunt max and uncle dustin come by for dinner and take her out for ice cream, and when she comes home steve gives her a bubble bath with extra bubbles. she doesn't love letting him bathe her all the time, but sometimes it's fun, especially when he does extra bubbles. he finishes and dries her off and takes his time with her hair, and before long she's just about ready for bed.

her parents work her through the nightly routine, and they tuck her in to bed together like they do every night one of them isn't working late. but after steve plants his pattern of kisses on her face and leaves, billy stays. he sits on the edge of her bed and looks a little unsure, which is strange because as far as niki knows, he always knows what to do.

"honey," he starts. "you know what they said today isn't true, right?" nikita nods easily.

"yeah. dad's my dad and you're my pops." nikita knows, to some degree, how she came to be. she knows steve didn't have her with billy like that. but never once has she ever had to doubt her family, and no one's dared do it to her face. not before today.

"okay, good." billy nods, reaching a hand out and rubbing her shoulder. "people like misses hartwell and her kid, they don't - they don't get it. and i'm so sorry that you had to hear it, and that you had to hear me yell like that."

"and say all those words dad tells you not to?" she adds quietly. billy breathes out a laugh.

"and hear me say all those words dad tells me not to say," he agrees. it gets a laugh out of nikita, much to billy's relief, and he leans forward to hold her by both her shoulders now. "i'm serious, babycakes. i don't care what people like that say. you're my baby, you hear me? always mine."

"always yours," she echoes, leaning forward and throwing her arms around him in a hug. billy plants as many kisses as he can manage on her head and face, before laying her back down and adjusting her covers.

"i love you, green bean," he tells her, and she murmurs in kind before watching him move to the door. he pauses when he gets there, then turns to her sheepishly.

"hey, about the bad words," he hums. "i won't say anything about it to dad if you won't. deal?" nikita makes a thoughtful face.

"can i have ice cream and a kitten?" he snorts at that.

"you have several kittens, baby. but ice cream is doable."

and when amy hartwell knocks on the door the next afternoon talking about billy's offensive language, he only gets a claim of innocence from his boyfriend and a confused look from his daughter who doesn't recall a single bad word from the meeting. steve looks back at the woman and misses the grin nikita shares with billy as she chomps on a bite of ice cream.

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 37 - Destined for Greatness

w/c - 7,731

               Suguru has been lying in bed for hours now as his mind wanders through his past and imagines different scenarios for the future. He sighs as he tosses and turns for the thousandth time, facing away from his door while his gaze takes to his new quarters that are viewable from this angle. This is by far the cheeriest room he has ever called his own. The walls are a warm yellow, the floors of solid hardened red clay and all of the matching furniture a light wood. His eyes take to the closed curtains with long thick white drapes, ‘This is so fucking annoying…’, he mumbles knowing there’s not even a window behind it, there’s no way for there to be when you’re underground. Sitting up now with aggravation, he reaches over to the bedside table and places the bowl of water he was using the night before, back into his lap. He wants to check in on Elska’s surroundings although he knows other Titers are tasked with the enemy’s usual surveillance. Before activating his technique though, he hesitates due to anxiety, ‘What the fuck am I going to do when we take her? What the fuck will she do?’. He hears footsteps approaching his door and knows Genghis must have already finished with most of the arrangements.

               “Little one! Time to wake up!”. Genghis calls out in an eager voice. He stops and smiles when he sees that Getou is already awake and asks, “Aren’t you excited about today?”. He looks over the worrisome Suguru who’s vexation is transparent. The golden sheets drape along his body and slide from his bare skin whenever he moves under them.

               Getou grumbles and turns his head, “I don’t think what I’m feeling is excitement…”. He keeps looking at the curtains that hide lies while wondering if he’s much different. ‘Will I have to subdue her when she lashes out? Am I going to have to hurt her when she resists?’. He’s had no qualms with doing so in the past but feels an incredible amount of pressure regarding it now. ‘Could we…like each other?’.

               Genghis chuckles and ignores Suguru’s reluctant attitude while looking around the room, “This is definitely much more suitable! Did you really put in a request for a giant tub though?” He’s poking fun at his pupil but he was also puzzled by that. Genghis thinks the brighter room will serve them both well psychologically. ‘Not too shabby for being done at the last minute.’.

               Embarrassed by the question, Getou submerges deeper into his bad mood and bed before retorting, “It’s for me. I’m tall.”. He was certainly not about to admit that it was for Elska, thinking she really must love them judging by how insane Naoya acted about it when the Zenin originally designed the first room where she was held. Suguru is aware that her reaction may be hostile overall and is dreading these coming days because of it so he hopes having one may ease her nerves. He doesn’t know that tub is Naoya’s thing.

               Genghis isn’t really satisfied with that answer but continues on, “I’ve gathered the most adept offensive fighters we have to offer.” Knowing the Titer’s abilities are incredible but lack in the area of traditional combat, selecting the most capable available would be crucial. “I believe you’ll quite enjoy my plan…”. His teeth show in this smile now, he’s more than willing to share his enthusiasm.

               Suguru finally turns to his mentor, interested. “Do tell me what you’ve concocted.”.

               Genghis lights up, “So as we were discussing, we need to restrict their actions. We will make our move in a public setting but you’ll still be able to have your fun...we will have to harm innocents but I assume that’s not what troubles you.” He grins maniacally, “Mr. Satoru Gojo’s presence will be requested before the Elders here in a few and his curiosity will assure he attends.”. Genghis sighs, “I was worried Gojo might want to kill all of them but I brought in two special people to mediate our fictitious ambitions.”. He chuckles, “The silver shaman has no idea what’s in store for him.”.

               Getou smirks at the thought of Gojo having the rug pulled from beneath him, “So we’re planning on having to deal with Toji, Zenin and Choso…aside from her today?” Genghis nods to his question but a heaviness forms in Suguru’s chest when he thinks about having to kill Choso. He’s still not on board with that completely and figures he’ll try his best to protect the hybrid in the midst of confusion. ‘Not him too.”. Getou wishes to find a way to bring the hybrid back to his side.

               Genghis claps his hands, causing his yellow robes to flutter, “You better get up and get ready! I’m about to meet with our team. I believe your first sweetheart will be amongst them.”, he chuckles for the drama but honestly loathes that woman.

               “Lidia?”, Getou stiffens immediately as that did not help his motivation. “She’s fucking crazy Master Genghis, I don’t want to be anywhere near her!”. Suguru takes his head to his hands as a few memories of her dependency and inhumane behavior flood him. ‘Psychotic bitch.’. Lidia always chased after Suguru when they were younger and at some point this wore on him as before he knew it, she was claiming them to be betrothed. She was obsessed with his destiny, his calling for the clan and would worship him in the most toxic ways due to it. Her need to be the only one in Getou’s life caused her to mutilate young women amongst Suguru’s outer circle out of spite and jealousy. Their time together did not last long as it quickly became a violent pairing, ending with him crushing her ribs under his usual technique. Suguru sighs, “She’s is not going to help me obtain another woman…”. He shudders recalling how after healing, she was back to throwing herself at him as if nothing happened. ‘Fucking…crazy…’.

               Genghis hides his sneer, knowing full and well the history of the two. “On the contrary, she requested this assignment.”. He notices Suguru’s growing frustration and wishes he could explain exactly why he’s doing what he’s doing but instead says, “I’ve seen many outcomes for this and although they may have varied, I can assure you Lidia will serve a great purpose here.”. Little does Getou know, Lidia will be the proof offered to show Elska she will be cared for while in the Titer compound.

               Suguru is skeptical to believe this and shows it through his expression as he rises from the bed and says, “Women are the bane of my existence…”. He stretches in his black briefs and cracks his neck while thinking something foreboding was eating at him. ‘I’m probably going to have to expose my other techniques now.’.

               “You’re about to receive the most powerful wife in the world…and yet, you complain.”, Genghis teases as he’d probably be nervous too if the roles were reversed. He watches Suguru don a black robe, clearly showing signs of stress so he walks up to him and puts his jokes aside, “This is going to work out, little one, one way or another.”, and pulls Getou’s head down to plant a fatherly kiss to the top of it. After sharing the rare moment, he bows and leaves Suguru to his morning routine.

               Getou watches him quietly walk out of the room with conflicting emotions. Genghis is the only man he’s ever looked up to, the only other human that ever offered genuine affection. Ever since Suguru was reunited with his mentor though, something has felt off or perhaps he’s just seems more purposeful. He’s not sure if this odd feeling is because of his own unstable emotions that threatened to derail his purpose of revenge or if there’s another reason but he can’t ignore it either way. He trusts that his mentor is still worthy of his respect and recognition though and finds his returning welcomed regardless. ‘All of those years…’, he wonders where Genghis spent his time and exactly why. ‘Did they really keep him away to simply foster my hatred for Gojo?’. He knows that doesn’t really make sense.

               Genghis is turning a hall leading to stairs to take him upward. He sees two of the recruited Titers waiting for him outside of the designated meeting area at the top, smiles and nears them. The first one he shakes hands with is Sain Khun. The 32-year-old Titer was a remarkable martial artists and hunter. His rare eyes are more grey than blue and stand in contrast to his long black hair that he wears down. Sain is one of the handful of Titers that learned to channel their metaphysical natured abilities into to combative techniques but usually stays out of the political fray of the clan. ‘A fine young man.”. Before he’s able to address the handsome Titer, the second of the pairing cuts in.

               “Master Genghis, I have more questions about this woman.”. Lidia shamelessly exudes her opinion of the situation and demands attention. She receives a sharp look from the clan’s head that only fuels her suspicions. “Are we certain she’s the best pairing for Master Getou?”.

               “Miss Lidia, you look lovely today…”, Genghis takes her hand and kisses it, ignoring her inquires. He continues to smile until she speaks up again. ‘She never ceases.’.

               “Can we trust that her intentions for Master Getou are ones we can stand by?”. Lidia shakes her long curly red hair that dances down her arms. Her green eyes narrowed still, she waits for an answer. “She’s not even human. What if she uses her powers to manipulate his biology as well?”. Her foot taps impatiently against the now softer ground, ‘I’ll fucking kill that bitch if she even looks at him wrong!’.

               Genghis has already grown tired of catering to Lidia’s neediness in the short time they’ve come to know each other but understands she’s vital. “And what of your own intentions?”, he confidently questions her as he doesn’t need an answer. He already knows and is glad to see her heart hasn’t wavered from its possessive ways.

               Sain feels forced as this greet was supposed to be simple. He cares not of Lidia’s unhealthy interest for Suguru and even with his instincts crying against Genghis, feels badly for the man. He decides to enter the conversation in hopes to shut it down. “Lusting Lidia, it’s time to get on with the meeting.”, and grabs her arm, leading her through the door where the rest of the selected wait.

               Genghis takes a moment to center himself, ‘I understand your resentment little one…’. This quick exchange between them wasn’t the worst he’s suffered from the woman but he still cannot stand to be around her. He chuckles and whispers to himself, “But if she were any less obsessed, this wouldn’t work.”, and then enters the room with the rest as they lay out their plans.

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               Elska is looking around at the busy street as they occasionally bump into passing people. “My prince, are you sure it’s around here?” She’s never been to this part of the city before and is feeling anxious by the crowd. The sun is out but a chilling breeze catches them every so often. Her mind is heavy and plagued with questions but doesn’t want to dampen Naoya’s mission for the day.

               Naoya stops near the edge of the wide sidewalk and pulls out his phone, “I’m positive!”, while checking the map to make sure he could stand by those words. ‘Where is it?’. His brow creases as he studies the screen.

               Toji huffs, “We’ve been walking forever.” He’s abnormally agitated but also hates crowds and is pinning the fault on being dragged out into one. He looks at Elska who’s eyes happen to meet his and feels his tension release ever so slightly as the wind blows her black V-cut dress along her knees. All of them are dressed up more than usual since Naoya begged for them to eat at one of his favorite restaurants. He sees Elska eyeing him in a way that foretells she finds his black pants and squeezing button up suiting and it makes him feel like he could deal with the clothed restriction for a while longer.

               “It says we’re close!”, Naoya points to the map on his phone pridefully. It’s been a few years since he was on this side of the city and a lot has changed. He’s becoming frustrated with not knowing how much time they’ll have before Gojo returns, wanting to enjoy some normalcy. ‘I just want to treat her to nice meal!’ He turns to Elska and takes her hand, “Baby, I promise it will be worth it. I’m talking…food fit for a princess.”, when she giggles, he does too, being happy to see that she isn’t wanting to turn around. He looks to Toji now, “Want me to find you a walker?”, and snickers as the giant narrows his eyes before continuing ahead.

               Elska feels Naoya’s finger lace into hers as they resume walking, with Toji on her left. She’s trying to be cheerful today, wanting to appreciate the time she’s spending with them but her mind keeps leading her into thought. The night before, Toji stopped her from feeding and although she was aware of why and understood the risks Satoru spoke about, she tried to proceed anyway. There were a weird few minutes where she could only focus on drinking from her beloved and flailed wildly as he restrained her. ‘Why did it feel like I wanted the Titer energy too?’. She thinks to hold Toji’s hand as well in this moment but stops herself as she doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to the three of them. ‘He looked so concerned all while I couldn’t even stop…”. The ancestral voice advised her to feed. Her heart aches as she knows this was out of character and extremely selfish when they didn’t know how it could affect her. The one thing keeping her afloat in this matter is how Toji held her after she snapped out it, how he seemed to understand without saying that she didn’t mean to.

               Toji lets Naoya and Elska get a step ahead of him so he can keep his eyes on her. After their last outing, he’s remaining highly aware of their surroundings and is watching for anything suspicious. He sees Naoya in his dark grey slacks and black dress shirt, leaning down to talk to her as they maneuver through the groups of families and friends, keeping her close. ‘Is she really, ok?’. Toji recalls how she struggled against him the night before. Gojo tried to rush to the bed after seeing her reaction but Toji was also wanting to shield her from him. Her eyes changed, showing the dashes of his green while she clawed at his arms and flashed her fangs with a glare. Toji knew that wasn’t his Elska but didn’t want to make her apprehensive, so he hid her the best he could from Satoru until they reverted. He heard something from within while this was all occurring, a voice that he swears communicated for him to feed his master. ‘Is that even possible? What the fuck was that?’. He rubs his bicep after feeling a sharp pain run through his arm.

               Naoya leads them to a building that has loud club music playing inside, the base being noticeable from where they stand. He looks up and scrunches his face, “What the fuck is this?”. He checks his watch that bares 1:39 and is further confused by the daytime club scene. ‘I’ve failed.’. Toji can be heard groaning so he orients himself to face them both, “It was right here!!”. He takes in Elska’s kind smile as she’s clearly not going to make him feel bad for being wrong. Not knowing what to do to save their lunch adventure he stands there awkwardly to think but hears Elska say, “Well let’s enjoy a drink while we look up somewhere else nearby!”. He smiles at her ability to always find a silver lining and follows behind her up the ramp that leads inside.

               As they walk through the room on the first floor, Toji feels this intense wave wash over him. Music is drowning out most other sounds but the way the bass pulses through him allows him to feel alive. The stench of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol sting his senses while they find a seat at the bar. Once sitting, he can smell Elska’s perfume when she whips her hair behind her shoulders, exposing her neck to which causes him to stir in the stool. Naoya hands out drink menus from them all but Toji doesn’t even look at it, knowing his order already and wanting it immediately. He feels ready to pounce but is cautiously calming himself as he knows this is not the place, ‘I am NOT Gojo…’. When she crosses her legs he feels the sting in his arm again, bringing his mood back to a wavering position.

               “I’m thinking a red…’, Elska states loud enough to be heard while looking over the wine menu. Naoya smiles to her words as he announces his choice of Mojito. “That’s why you’re so sweet!”, she jokes vaguely in regards to his actual taste. She places a hand on Toji’s right knee before turning to him and feels him jump. Her voice now concerned, “Did I scare you!?”. She giggles until she sees the intensity in his eyes, wondering why he’s exuding so much right then. Her breath was held in her throat as she waited for his eyes to glow, knowing that would not be good for where they are. They never do though and she eventually resumes respiration as he places his own large hand over hers. ‘What was that?’. She now swivels her head around the large room, taking in all of the day drinkers on the dance floor and seated randomly about.

               The bartender takes their orders with a smile and begins to serve them up right there. He recommended a red for Elska that he swears was his personal favorite and proudly waited for the approving sip. When she stated its palatability, he then left to attend other customers while Toji stared him down menacingly. ‘That’s a brave man to be flirting right in front of us.’.

               Naoya sips his drink while eyeing Toji chug his whiskey on the rocks. “Slow down old man, we still have to go somewhere to eat!”, he laughs at the eyeroll he receives and notices Elska drinking pretty quickly as well. “Baby, what’s on your mind?”, he knows something is bothering her and wonders if they’re both just nervous after the last Titer attack. ‘Maybe I can convince her to dance it away!’, he thinks as he imagines himself twirling her under the disco ball. He just wants her to have a good day.

               After finshing her glass already, she sets it down and tells Naoya, “I’m fine, I promise! I just really have to pee!”. He chuckles and adjusts himself so she has more room to slide off the stool. She announces that she’ll be right back before searching the walls for signs indicating the direction she should take. A drunken man bumps into her shortly after leaving the bar and can feel Toji increase his presence so she turns around to show that she’s fine. The whole room was lively except for Toji’s motionless staring. ‘I better be fast before he loses his shit.’.

               “She shouldn’t be alone.” Toji followed her with his eyes as she turned a corner down a hall. He’s worried about her and has this familiar unyielding need to be in her vicinity. It’s almost as if he knows something is about to happen. “I’m going to wait for her, watch the drinks.”. He hears Naoya protest with grief but faces him and says, “Boy, why don’t you find us a place to eat since we’re out here because of you.”, and places a hand on Naoya’s shoulder as he goes to walk past to counter the aggression in his voice. “Order another round too will ya?”.

               Elska stands up in the stall and flushes but doesn’t leave. She’s feeling like Toji’s eyes were trying to tell her something minutes ago but she can’t figure it out. All she knows is that it was sexy. She opens the latched door to wash and dry her hands but takes in her reflection in the mirror and thinks, ‘Life is so much crazier now…’, but smiles to herself knowing she had fantastic support from everyone. The door pushes open abruptly behind her and she gasps in startlement before realizing that it was Toji himself. “TOJI! What if there are others in here?!”. She can tell by his focus though that it didn’t matter anyway.

               “Doll…” he mutters as he locks the door behind him. He sees that she was caught off guard when she asks what he was doing in there but he just walks closer until he’s inches away. “I need…”, he lifts her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist and supports her weight with his right arm. “I need you.”, he whispers while dragging the tip of his nose along her collar bone, watching her skin change pigment from his glowing eyes. Her hands are roaming through his hair and he moans to the sensation of her nails against his scalp. “Right now.”. He nearly growls as he sinks her into his groin from above.

               “Toji…”, she was right about his prior intensity but can’t find it in her heart to stop him as he begins kissing the crook of her neck. The music can be heard through the walls along with idle chatter and it all serves as a reminder for where they’re at. She thinks of her pheromones and instantly pulls herself out of their beautiful trance. She whispers, “We shouldn’t do this here, my beloved.”, and frowns as he lifts his head to meet eyes. “I can’t release them here, it’ll be a disaster…”.

               He agrees that they shouldn’t have sex and nods with a grunt but that’s not truly what brought him in lady’s room to begin with. Feeling his fangs form he shows them to her and happily takes in her reaction as she smiles and moves her hair while saying, “Oh! ok…but we have to be quick!”. He squeezes her cheek with his right hand that supporting her rear and drags his teeth across the skin of her neck. “I just need to taste you.”, he wantonly groans before biting down. She gasps to his intrusion and grips his hair as he begins to suckle. His own whimpers could be heard between his gulps, loving every drop he’s being given as he deciphers her soul and feelings. Her flavor, now that he’s not as overloaded by the information, is reminiscent of the aroma born from a field of flowers. Each time he swallows more of her blood, his overall restlessness fades while her squirming increases.

               Elska cradles his head into her while melting in the master’s ecstasy flowing through her. Her eyes are closed as she bites her lip and attempts to muffle her sounds. “My beloved…”, she whimpers to him while her fingers stroke through his hair. His hypertonicity dwindles as she feels his left hand travel up her back, resting a grip on the nape of her neck. “I love you, my beloved Toji…”, and gasps in desperation as she can sense his own, wanting to assure him of his importance. Those same fingers now dance along her clavicle as he brings them over the wounds to close them while panting into her neck. He leaves his face buried there, adorning the area with his lips slowly as he she can tell he’s gathering himself. “Do you feel better?” She caresses his temple and cheek hoping that he did, feeling terrible that she didn’t recognize or even sense his disposition sooner. When he lifts his head to look at her again, she feels the need to lock her lips to his as they both exhale in a gratified union. She moves the hair out of his eyes and kisses his forehead before he gently puts her back down, him looking refreshed with a bashful grin.

               He grabs a paper towel from the dispenser and wets it. In the mirror he can see Elska’s loving eyes watching him and the scar on the corner of his lips bends pleasantly. While wiping away any evidence, he shyly adds, “I love you too, doll.”, the words still seeming unreal. After discarding the bloodied paper towel, he takes up her hands in his own, “I’m sorry for following you in here, I just…I really needed to do that.”. He’s still uneasy by how compelling the desire was. “I felt like I wouldn’t get another chance.”. He sees the concern on her face and doesn’t want to worry her, “It was just time for me to feed doll, everything is ok.”. Her hand sails upwards to hold his cheek and leans into it. ‘I have to keep her safe.’.

               Naoya is watching the condensation accumulate on his glass and is now feeling nervous as he checks his watch again. ‘Where are they?!’, he swings around in the stool to check the room and feels an incredible wave of relief as he finds Toji and Elska making their way back to the bar. After they sit he asks, “Did you guys go to the bathroom at the dorms or what?”, but picks up on the weird laughs he receives from them. ‘He wouldn’t have tried something sly, would he?’, and squints his eyes at Toji. ‘He looks way better though.’, and decides to let it go as he’s sure even a quickie couldn’t be that quick. “Baby…”, Naoya slides his phone over in front of them as he finishes his second Mojito, “I’ve only been here once but they have beautiful seating along the water!”. He cackles, “…and it’s only about half a mile away by foot…”.

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               Gojo is quickly walking through the whited-out halls with Choso following. He speaks without looking, “Choso, when we get in there…I have to warn you, you’re not expected.”. Gojo heard Choso stop in place so he turns around to see him. “You’re with me though so it’s fine! If they say anything to you, just ignore them. I will do the talking.”, and waves for the being to hurry.

               “I…I don’t understand why I’m here with you and not everyone else…”. Choso is familiar with the Elders but can’t ignore the fact that he used to work for them where as he’s now on the opposing side. ‘Is this a good idea?’. He was expecting Gojo to sulk and whine to being called in today and is puzzled by how thrilled he seems.

               Gojo jumps up to click his heels to the side before saying, “I don’t trust these cunts and I’m almost positive this is a trap of some sort…”. He notices Choso’s eyes widen with confusion so he continues, “If they’re trying to distract me from Elska, they fail if you’re there using your technique to watch her for me!”, his smug grin appears, “This way I’ll know the moment something happens.”. He’s sure the Elders have called him away in order to create an opportunity but has a mind to flip their plans upside down with this small act of rebellion. “I can never remember where to go! This shit all looks the same…it’s creepy.”.

               Choso sighs but tries to keep up with Gojo’s quickened pace. The bright lighting overhead is blinding and causing him discomfort as he prefers darker places. He doesn’t know what to make of Gojo’s explanation but figures he’s along for the ride at this point anyways. “Do you think they’d even admit to what they’re doing?”. Choso understands the amount of secrecy the surrounds the Elder’s goals and is sure that he’s not even fully aware of their intentions.

               “Yes. I will make sure they do.”, Satoru’s words are eerie but his expression is still delighted. “These fuckers have messed with us for long enough. They’re cowards, Choso and the things they want to do to my love are unacceptable.”.  Gojo is certain that none of the others would have condoned what he’s thinking he’ll have to do which is why he said nothing before leaving. “They need to leave her alone and how can I call myself the strongest if I can’t protect her from these witless skin bags?”. Satoru at least wanted to inform Nanami of his meeting but hasn’t been able to reach the fellow shaman yet. ‘Did they get to him too?’. Gojo is certain that something happened with Shoko but was waiting to see how things played out. ‘As long as she’s fine, I know she can handle it.’, but worries about Nanami’s reaction if he’s already discovered this too.

               ‘What is he going to do?’, Choso feels like something big is about to happen, something that cannot be taken back. The unnerving pressure in his gut hints that whatever it is, it’s not good. “Itadori and the others are still on standby but isn’t it odd that they haven’t been given any missions?”. They pass more rooms before Satoru finally stops. Choso watches the silver shaman’s expression change to lethally cold one before straightening himself with resolve, and knows he should do the same. ‘I guess I have to just trust him…’, the thought not sitting comfortably at all.

               Gojo quietly speaks, “Remember, don’t mind them, they’re not worth the stress. You do not serve them any longer.”, and places a reassuring hand on the hybrids shoulder. He’s impressed when he looks over the being, seeing that his previous nervousness has been cast away and replaced by a collected ensemble. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m right about him.’, and feels poised in the dark nature that lurks beneath Choso’s kindness. Turning back to the door, Gojo kicks it open fiercely before entering. “WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?!”.

               Three people sit along one side of a long white table, seeming prepared aside from the sudden commotion. The first is a representative of the Kamo clan, a new middle-aged face Satoru has never seen draped in dark red robes. The second is a Zenin, the bought errand man known better as “Peaches” for a less known reason. Gojo knew him rather well from his childhood and all of the clan events he was forced to attend. The third, however, catches Satoru by complete surprise and angers him. The woman sitting as a representative for his own clan is none other than his mother.

               Gojo seethes with white knuckled fists, “What the fuck are you doing here?”, as old anguish resurfaces between the two. Satoru hasn’t been home in years and purposefully. He was sure if he stayed any longer, he’d annihilate his own family.

               The Kamo rep scoffs, “Yes… well hello to you too Satoru Gojo. We could ask you the same.” He points to Choso, “Isn’t that Kamo property?”. The hybrid and Gojo fail to give him the time of day, causing tension.

               Gojo never takes his eyes off of his mother while waiting in silence as Choso dutifully ignores them. His eyes darken, “I asked you a fucking question you miserable old whore.”. He feels the urge to gather a technique but calms himself with his better judgement.

               His mother speaks, “That is no way to talk to the woman who raised you!”, she laughs in a haughty way but brings her dramatics to a close, “Why else would I be here? You can’t be left to just do whatever you please…”. She tilts her nose up and displays her notion that she is untouchable.

               Peaches shifts in his chair, “You have something that needs to be returned to the Zenin’s. Master Naoya was promised her hand.”. He’s honestly terrified of Gojo but would never allow this to show. Satoru darts stormy eyes in his direction and he feels a chill race down his spine.

               “Let’s just be frank about it. You want Elska.”. Gojo voice is calm, almost lighthearted. He brings his gaze back to his mother, feeling a little better about the situation knowing he’s going to handle more business than he expected today. “Choso, please start now.”. Gojo doesn’t have to look since he can feel Choso’s energy gathering to form the window. He watches the representatives lean to figure out what the hybrid is up to and laughs out loud. “My friend here”, He scowls at the Kamo man, “is going to observe Elska while we meet.”. He winks to Peaches, “She’s with Naoya right now for your information…Toji too.”.

               Gojo’s mother bursts into hyaena laughter, threatening to rupture the unsuspecting eardrums of the others. “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you? Such a pitiful child.”. Her long white hair waves in the air as she jerks her head to see Peaches’s perplexed expression. “Don’t believe him just because he speaks it…trust me…”, and folds her arms while thinking of how many more beatings her son should have to experience when younger.

               Peaches clears his throat and tries to save face, “Surely this is some kind of joke. Master Naoya loathes your very existence Satoru.”. He’s now chuckling to himself having felt it was a test of some sort, “Are we not on better terms than that of your games?”. He’s now sure it was a lie.

               Gojo regrets that Peaches is here today but is unable to overlook the fact that the old goat is in cahoots with this situation. ‘It can’t be helped!’. He turns to Choso now for the first time since they walked into the room and is reassured that nothing bad is happening. Now facing Peaches again, “You know… Zenin and I got off on the wrong foot.” He grins, “But now we have threesomes!”, loving the shock that plasters everyone’s face. The Kamo man choked on his own saliva to the mention. Gojo looks at his mother, “Don’t be upset just because no one wants to fuck you. It can’t be helped when your cunt leaks venom.”.

               Choso sits motionlessly as he listens to the meeting unfold, completely flabbergasted by Satoru’s way of speaking. ‘What did his mother do to him to make him hate her so much?’, he hesitates to explore the options in his mind as he can only imagine. Aside from that though, Choso has never witnessed such a display of blatant disrespect to the higher ups and is completely unnerved by the silver shamans ever changing composure. ‘What is he planning to do?’, the ominous feelings he’s experiencing from this are only growing at this point.

               Peaches is red with embarrassment, “HE WOULD NEVER DO THAT!”, and allows his anger on the matter to spill over. The representative huffs relentlessly to the accusations and feels disgraced for his ears being exposed to such vile talk. When expecting to see an angry Gojo, he’s further confused by the smile that meets him instead.

               Gojo runs his finger along the table as he casually saunters in front of each of them. “If you three decide to get rowdy…I’ll have to kill you.”. He basks in the glares and especially enjoys his mother’s fear as she knew he was not playing around. Once they become settled he says to her, “You being here makes you my enemy, mommy. How long have you been involved?”. She starts to swat his question away with a scoff but everyone leaps out of their skin when Satoru yells, “HOW FUCKING LONG?!”. He increases his presence tenfold and watches the representatives writhe in distress before him.

               She says nothing.

               The Kamo rep is sweating bullets as he’s only heard the tales of horrors committed at the hand of Gojo. ‘Genghis said nothing about this hostility.”, he thinks to himself as he comprehends that he’s bitten off more than he could chew. He’s afraid to peel his eyes away from the powerful shaman making inquiring demands but also wants to flee the room. ‘This guy is even crazier in person!’.

               Gojo takes a deep breath and exhales dramatically, “Well…this is going nowhere…”, and summons energy into his hand as he aims it at the Kamo representative. The nameless man cries out in fear and studders in his breathing. Gojo notices Choso jump to his feet but the being doesn’t say anything. Only when the defeated female voice utters, “3 years.”, does he quell his attack. He thinks about that answer for a moment before acknowledging her again. ‘That’s strange.’. Looming across from her he now asks, “I’d already had my love for some time before that, why did you join them to conspire against me at that point? Don’t make me blow this poor guy’s skull open…”, he warns of his lack of patience.

               His mother sulks in her seat having her hands tied about the questioning, “I thought she was a passing infatuation at first, like all of the others but you completely neglected your responsibilities of being an heir because of that wretch.” She’s met with unforgiving eyes and wishes she was able to smack the audacity out of him but has learned the hard way about his response to abuse. “She is not yours Satoru and you jeopardize the entire balance of the clans with your actions of keeping her.”.  Out of the corner of her eye she sees Peaches nod in support and feels reaffirmed by it.

               Gojo slips a wild laugh and slaps the table, “She is mine though. I voyaged worlds away to find her. I went to incredible lengths to bring her back…”, he sighs while resting his hands on his hips. “You do know, mom, these Titers that have you in their pocket…they were going to use her to assassinate me.”. The atmosphere of the room deteriorates at the mention of the Titer clan. Its obvious that they were left unaware to Gojo having knowledge of the group’s silent partner.

               His mother jumps from her seat and screams, “AND THEY SHOULD HAVE SUCCEEDED!”. All of the hatred she’s ever felt for her son sears the air around them, her chest feeling lighter for the honesty but heavier for the fear. “You were destined for greatness but even with your gifts, something is wrong with you! How you ever came out of me? I will never know…”. She feels she must stand her ground or else the structure they’ve served their entire lives will crumble. “You’re evil. You always have been.”.

               Choso is still watching Naoya, Toji and Elska but can’t help but be distracted by the darkness exuding Gojo. ‘What is going on here?’, he doesn’t understand how this is official business and even finds himself feeling defensive over Satoru. ‘That woman is appalling.’, he thinks as he considers Gojo’s upbringing and decides there’s more to the man than he ever considered. He looks back to the window after surmising that none of the representatives would attack. Choso becomes rattled when the window shows Toji drinking from Elska in a cramped bathroom, ‘I can’t believe the lighting permits this, it must be dim.’, He temporarily becomes fixated with Toji’s fangs anchored into her as she quietly moans. He’s not seen anyone but her feed before. ‘So, his bite feels good to her as well?’. He brushes his lap as if to tell it, “Knock it off”, but his attention is soon stolen by Peaches’s mention of Elska.

               “If you don’t return Elska Oda then this will be seen as an act of aggression Satoru, please…don’t do thi-…” Peaches can no longer speak as Gojo grips hit throat and is thrown into a fit of fright.

               “I kind of liked you…I was use to you at least…but if you ask me that one more time, I will break your fucking neck.” Gojo feels his face twitch as he squeezes the old man’s beard into his throat, “You guys are fucking with me today and I don’t appreciate it.”. Never letting go, he turns to his mother but also glances at the petrified Kamo rep, “I do not give a single flying fuck about the clans, I couldn’t care less of your archaic ways and I am never going to surrender my Elska.”. As Peaches reaches a critical point of needing air, Gojo clamps his fingers deeper, “I left my love’s side today to be here because of your guys’ little fucking Titer friends. That is what we will discuss.”.

               Gojo’s mother rushes to pull her son’s hand away but right as she’s reaching out, Satoru releases Peaches. She watches the old man heave and choke uncontrollably and shoots hateful eyes. “How dare you lay a hand on him? Do you fear nothing?”, she thinks to threaten with her husband but knows that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree so it’s likely useless.

               Satoru smirks while studying Peaches inability to regain his breath, “I crushed his trachea a bit, he’s going to need medical attention soon.”. He watches the Kamo man stand up in disbelief and warns, “My mother is right about one thing, I do not fear you or your influence.”, and smiles approvingly as the man takes his seat again hesitantly.

               “You psychotic little freak!”, his mother cries out in disgust, “We need to get him to a doctor!”. She feels herself fill with anxiety as she was not expecting him to go this far. “Let us take him!”.

               Satoru hisses quietly, “If you guys weren’t so dead set in dicking me around then this wouldn’t have happened. No one leaves until I get some answers.”. He strolls around the table, loving how terrified the Kamo representative became when he was close. He yanks up the suffocating Peaches and throws him back into his chair, “Have some fucking dignity…I thought better of you.”. When Peaches makes eye contact, he can see the dread wash over the man, knowing their dynamic has changed forever.

               The Kamo man speaks up sheepishly, “Wh…What is it that you want to know?”. He’s all for handing over the required information as he clearly cares about his life more than the others. Satoru’s expression softens as the other two representatives hang their mouths open, not expecting him to fold so easily. Gojo states, “Everything.”, which causes the rep to tense up as he doesn’t know where to begin. He hastily blurts out, “Suguru Getou inherited ancient techniques as well. The Titers are planning on taking the girl for themselves to ensure their supremacy.” He inhales sharply, “The head of their clan met his end by the hands of your company, they want to repay by being rid of you as you are their final target. You’re still too strong because of your infinity, so the girl’s fate was determined the moment you were born.”.

               “You… weak imbecile…”, Gojo’s mother retaliates to the sensitive information by pushing Peaches backwards causing him to fall to the ground and thrash violently. Without so much as a second thought, she gathers energy into her hand and expels it at the Kamo man’s mouth. The representative dons his own matching blood as his brain matter exits the back of his head, decorating the white surroundings behind him. Only a cavernous jagged hole remains where the words escaped him only seconds prior. His body slumps over the table as he leaks his remaining essence into a pool that shortly forms a dripping pattern to the white tiled floor.  

               Choso defensively stands as the black tattoo on his faces begins to wave. “Satoru…”, is all he says while watching Gojo’s mother now strain to lift the blue tinted and gasping Peaches back upright his seat. ‘His mother is just as rash…’. Choso waits for a few moments longer but is eager to gauge Gojo when their eyes finally meet. ‘Why does he look so satisfied?’, he questions himself as he’s met with that smug smile. The Zenin man’s eyes look like they may pop out of his head but Choso can still make out the man’s reaction to his own presence. He hears Gojo say, “Everything is alright Choso, don’t worry. Just watch them.”, but the being is unable to simply sit with ease at this time. ‘How is this alright?’.

               “And you wonder where I get it from?”, Gojo is irritated that the only man that was willing to talk is now dead but he’s also able to take the information to heart because of how his mother reacted. ‘So all of this really is because of me…’, he thinks of Elska with a heavy heart knowing all that she’s been through, even before he got his hands on her was his fault. ‘My love…I will make this right.’.

               Gojo’s mother now sits back down, wondering if she went too far and gave away their hand. Peaches struggles to speak next to her but she can make out that he’s trying to question the fidelity of the Kamo’s last words. She sighs, “Look Peaches, I like you but I’m siding with Genghis.”. Peaches gurgles himself into a purple hue as he still cannot breathe or talk properly. She understands that Peaches was completely ignorant to the Titer’s planned betrayal to the Zenins and calm says, “They’re not wanting to eliminate other clans, they’re just going to help guide us to this proposed peace, don’t worry so much.”.

               Peaches can only think of Master Naoya who he feels is in grave danger after hearing this information. ‘I…he has to know…Master Na…he needs to be made aware!’. He thinks to grab his phone but he wouldn’t be able to relay the information, nor is he fast enough to text it. Peaches chokes in his stress and can tell his body is slowly shutting down after being deprived oxygen and feels completely hopeless about his predicament. When his heavy eyes meet Gojo’s he freezes in apprehension while listening intently.

               Satoru sighs dramatically with growing anticipation, “Now…where were we?”.

Next Chapter (38) >>

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Tagging : @angelofthorr ❤️

[lilbabycee]

groceries // chris evans

↳ request: If requests are open, can I have a bratty reader who openly flirts with another man in front of Chris (with some condescension and degrading calling her a whore etc)

↳ relationship: chris evans x reader

↳ word count: 1.6k

↳ author’s note: requests are open but other than that, i am still a whore thank you and goodnight x

oh here we go i’m excited:

you and chris both enjoy the domesticity of grocery shopping a little more than you’d like to admit

your pouty lips are like sugar and voice like honey when you beg him to get that candy or those cookies you love so much

he likes to pretend that he won’t cave into your pretty eyes and longing gaze by telling you “no, sweetheart” and walking right past it

but he knows he can’t resist you for long, your glassy eyes threatening tears and he can’t bear the thought of seeing you cry

(although he knows that you’re just being a brat)

and so there’s nothing sweeter than his acquiescence: “okay, baby, go back and grab it”

and you won’t ever act like it, but any public outing provides you with the prime opportunity to mess with your boyfriend

your arms are overflowing with an assortment of fruits that chris sent you ahead to get while he was looking at the wide assortment of vegetables two aisles behind you

and although you cockily insisted that you didn’t need the cart or a basket, you’re definitely regretting your unnecessary stubbornness right about now

the strawberries and the grapes fall from the bottom and your eyes fall shut as you groan loudly, ready to have to go back and get new ones when the heat of a body crowds yours and you don’t hear the telltale sound of plastic against the linoleum

you assume that it’s chris coming to save you from yourself but instead, a mop of curly black hair almost tickles your nose and a pair of pretty lips curve into a smile

he’s got these light brown eyes that come close to knocking the breath out of you and you think that he’s gorgeous

(but still not as attractive as your man)

“i think you dropped these,” he teases, lifting a thick eyebrow as his eyes flit over your face appreciatively

“yeah”, the word comes out breathless because you can’t stop looking at his face but you still manage to smile shyly

and so he tells you his name and you tell him yours and he can’t stop talking about how pretty you are

before you know it, it’s been a full fifteen minutes and chris - who told you to come back when you were done - thinks that you’ve been gone for a suspiciously long time and comes looking for you

he’s expecting to find you with your arms crossed over your chest pensively or your face between your hands because you can’t decide what you want

(either way he thinks you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen)

but then he rounds the corner and almost trips over the cart because you’re standing at the end of the aisle next to some guy that he’s never seen before holding an armful of what he assumes is your fruit, and he can’t help the way that his brow furrows and his mouth sets in a hard line

he can’t describe the incensed feeling that grows in his chest but he knows that it’s more that jealousy because you’re letting this man stand so close to you and touch your arm like that

a part of him knows that it’s the lingering insecurity that lives deep within the pit of his stomach but instead of letting it cripple him, he allows it to fuel his anger, virtually stomping down the row of shelves towards you

you reluctantly turn your head at the noise of feet walking in your direction, a lingering smile still on your face that immediately drops when you meet the eyes of your furious boyfriend

trepidation seeps into your bones, a poison that corrodes at the marrow and causes your limbs to go completely slack

it’s when all of your produce drops to the floor that the handsome stranger finally stops staring at you, spinning around only for that same stare to land on the very angry brunette coming your way

“chris,” you can’t help but cower slightly when his thundercloud of rage looms over you.  

he says nothing but he shoots you a murderous glare before pulling you into his side roughly, hand immediately coming to rest on your butt

you expected this but not the searing kiss that he bruises onto your lips, leaving you breathless as he squeezes the flesh of your ass in his palms

“hi, i’m chris,” he sticks his hand out with a raised brow, the warning look in his eyes a complete contrast to the warm smile on his face

he’s glowing with pride and he’s so hot but you can’t stop staring at the discarded fruit on the floor so as to not have to meet the eyes of the curly-haired man in front of you

“oh, i didn’t realize-”

“that’s okay, buddy,” chris smiles tightly. “thanks for helpin’ my girl out.”

and that’s all he says before snatching up the fruit from james? jonathan? jonah?’s arms and strolling cockily back to your abandoned cart

you walk quickly behind him, gnawing on your lower lip and refusing to acknowledge josiah? jamie? jared?’s parting remark

“i guess i’ll see you around-”

“no you won’t,” chris calls over his shoulder, grabbing you round the waist again after putting the fruit down and pushing the cart around the corner

the rest of the shopping trip goes off pretty much without a hitch

(save from a small disagreement over milk)

but you don’t prepare for what happens when you’re finished loading groceries into the car and sitting quietly in the passenger’s seat, staring out of the window contently because you’re so sure that you’ve gotten away with it

it’s when chris slides into the car and doesn’t say anything that you look over at your boyfriend, audibly gasping at how blown his pupils are

“is my little whore ready to go home?” he says nonchalantly, looking away from you to turn the key in the ignition

“what?!” you exclaim indignantly (except you’re not mad because a thrill runs through you at what you know is coming next). “i-i was a good girl-”

“don’t lie to me, baby,” he coos, engine on but he evidently has no intention of going anywhere just yet. “i saw how much you liked talking to that boy. being a little slut right in front of daddy- what, you tryna make me jealous, babygirl?”

“no- he was my friend-”

“okay, honey,” he says, still not moving and looking deep into your darting eyes

“really?” you ask, confused and a little disappointed because is he just going to drop it?

but you should know by now that your man isn’t like that

“of course not,” he sneers and the butterflies in your stomach come alive all over again. “stupid little slut - think i’m gonna let you get off with bein’ a whore in public? hmm, baby?”

“no, sir,” you reply, licking your lips and shifting in your seat, heat pooling in your core as you try to hide a smile by squeezing your lips together  

“my bad little girl,” a large hand falls on your thigh and you shiver, placing your hand over his as he rubs tenderly at the skin there. “such a dumb baby, huh?”

you nod eagerly, attempting to school your features into an expression that projects innocence and repentance because you know you’re going to get the punishment of a lifetime when you get home

“maybe i should fuck you right here,” he muses, hand absent-mindedly trailing to the inside of your thighs to press the heel of his palm to your clit

your legs automatically fall further open and you arch your back into the pressure while he runs a sole finger over the seam of your cunt

(no, you’re not wearing panties under your dress because he told you not to and you always listen to your boyfriend)

“so eager, sweetheart,” he hums, eyes focused exclusively on the task at hand. “did you wanna show that boy what an eager little slut you are?”

you plan to answer - you really do - but his finger dips into your pussy and your brain forgets how to function

almost directly after, another finger joins the first and your boyfriend is casually finger-fucking you in a semi-crowded grocery store parking lot

(the jury’s still out on whether or not this makes you even more horny)

“oh, baby,” chris laughs, eyes now locked on yours that are staring right back at him. “you’re so close already - i didn’t realize how much of a whore you were for that boy... or is this all for me? are you making a mess all over my car seats because you like getting fucked in the parking lot of a grocery store?”

(you decide that yes, this is absolutely why chris is going to need to thoroughly clean his car when you get home)

but you can’t articulate any of that so you just nod again, making chris laugh and causing a combination of pleasure and shame to wash over you

he leans over the console, attaching his lips to your neck and continuing his assault on your pussy - he’s sucking a trail of dark bruises into your skin and you love it, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as his lips move to your jaw and then your ear

“go on, baby,” chris smiles against your cheek. “cum for me, it’s okay. i won’t make you beg this time - i know that once anything gets in this tight little pussy, you don’t know how to act... that’s okay, honey. you can cum, it’s okay.”

and so you do, his voice coaxing you over the edge and the moment you do, chris gasps right into your ear and then chuckles deeply

“look, sweetheart, there’s your little friend - say hi!”

you meet those brown eyes and your entire body heats up in shame - the look on his face would be hilarious in literally any other situation but it makes you feel a little sick and slightly aroused (?)

once you’ve finally come down from your high and jules? jake? jasper? manages to tear his eyes away from the two of you (chris waves at him and you smack him on the arm because what the fuck)

your boyfriend promptly sticks his fingers into his mouth as you peel your sticky body from the leather seat beneath you - you’re panting and unsure if you’ll even be able to walk when you get out of the car

meanwhile, chris adjusts the mirror and his hands land on the wheel before he shoots you a disapproving glance

“seatbelt, baby.”

tagged: @literaturefeen​ @donutloverxo​

[leejongsuksnostrils]

ch. 3

boycott.

words - 1251

warnings - language

Over the past couple months, you and Felix have gotten closer. You think it's safe to say you're...friends? Every time you see each other you guys always talk and are just tryna get to know each other. Nothing too crazy. Although, even though talking to him doesn't seem as scary and more natural, you still can't get over his strong but soft presence. It's pretty demanding in such a...fluffy? way.

-

You're looking for Luna in a practice room. Of course she didn't say which one so you're wandering out the JYP building just popping into rooms hoping for the best. You open one door, empty. You open another, not sure what's going on in there. And another - "Hey Penelope!" "Ah! Felix! Hey, I'm actually looking for Lu-" "Wanna film a TikTok with me?" Whut. This boy is on coffee. His blonde hair is all over the place. He has the biggest, goofiest grin on his face. You look around the room, Bangchan...Minho just chatting together in the corner. And before you could respond, he rushes over to you, grabs you by the wrist, and gently pulls you in the room. "C'monnnnn~"

"I really wanted to post me dancing to a TikTok song but I wanted someone else to be in the video, but Chan and Minho are busy right now. Luckily, you came to my rescue." He is beaming at you. He completely melts your heart sometimes. "Oh, but hopefully you aren't busy either?" "Uh, uh. No, actually." Sorry Luna. "Awesome! Ok! So this is the audio." He puts the phone close to your ear so you can hear it. "Ok ok." "Right? And this is what I wanted to do." He starts doing this silly dance but yet he makes it look so cool. "What do you think?" He's so hyper today. You haven't seen this side to him. It's...interesting. But super fucking cute and irresistible nonetheless. "Yeah, looks fun!" He clapped his hands excitedly. "Here, I'll show you how to do it." Felix starts doing the dance slowly and you watch his body carefully, to learn the moves of course. "Now you try." You feel your entire body get hot instantly. Is he gonna be looking at you the way you were looking at him? Now you start sweating. Fuck. "Uhh, I'm gonna take my jacket off if that's ok. It's a little warm in here." "Here, I'll put it over here with our stuff." You unzip your jacket and put it in Felix's waiting hands. Welp. Great. You now realize you were wearing a super cropped tee under that oversized jacket and some high waisted leggings. Well, this should be all in good fun anyways. You doubt he'd even be looking at you like that when he can take his pick any day.

You try to repeat the moves that Felix showed you. Your cheeks were burning hot the entire time and you wouldn't dare make eye contact with him. "How was that?" You ask him while scratching your head and kinda looking past him. "It was great! Good thing Venom's main dancer was the one that decided to join us today." Oh yeah, great. Not great! You realized you didn't have a stitch of makeup on and of course your crazy curly hair was not done and was just hanging down and frizzy. Well good, maybe it can distract from your face. "Are you ready?" He asked you, getting ready to hit the REC button. "Yeah!"

-

"Yay! It turned out so good! You don't mind if I post it right?" The pretty fairy boy asked you. "No, not at all." "Yay! ... done. I posted it." "Cool! Alright, well I'm gonna use the restroom just next door and then I gotta get going." "Oh ok! Thanks again!" You slightly bowed to him and trotted to the restroom only you didn't have to go. You look in the mirror and check yourself out. You pat at your hair and your cheeks. You turn to the side and look at your tummy and your butt. "Hm." You leave the restroom. "Penelope!" You turn around in the hallway and see Felix running over to you. "You left your jacket. Don't want you to get cold later." "Oh my god, thank you so much." "Of course." He smiles at you. You shyly smile back and then walk away.

You reach into your pocket to pull out your phone to text Luna and a piece of paper falls out onto the floor. "Oh?" You bend down to pick it up. "Open me!" It says on top. You unfold the paper and there's a phone number written on it. No name, nothing else. Just the number. "Interesting." You crumble it back up and put it in your pocket and then text Luna.

Hey girl, I'm so sorry. I got lost.

Lost with Felix?

Huh? Oh. Did you see the TikTok?

Did I? Where are you? I'm in room 10A.

Coming~

-

Boy were you far as hell from 10A. There was no way you were gonna find her on your own. "Have you read some of these comments?" Luna asked you as soon as you opened the door. She was sitting in a chair by the counters in the practice room. "Well 'hello' to you too." "Come sit." She scoots a nearby chair over to you. You sit down and she shows you the comments underneath the video. "Whore." "Who does she think she is dancing with my man?" "Boycott Venom." "Oh no." A feeling of dread washed over me. "What were you thinking?" "I don't know. I was looking for you and I walked into a practice room and he just so happened to be in that one and he just wanted to film am innocent TikTok with someone." "Well this is what happens when you ditch your friends to hang out with pretty boys." "Luna!" "I'm kidding!" "This isn't funny. I'm none of those things." "I know you aren't, girly. We'll fix it." Luna reached over to hug me. "How? We haven't even had a comeback yet and they're read to boycott us already." Your eyes start to tear up. "We'll figure out something. Maybe we can talk to Park Jinyoung about it and see-" "No! That is the last person we need to talk to. He'll accuse us of something that isn't even going on and I don't want Felix to get in trouble." "Hmm. You're right. Maybe we can try and talk to the boys tomorrow and get this all figured out." You wiped a little tear from your eye and nodded. - You and Luna stayed up pretty late in the practice room. When you guys got back to your room, she immediately crashed in her bed and you just sat scrolling on your phone. After about 10 minutes or so, you peek to see if she's sleeping and you tip toe across the room to rummage through your jacket pockets. "Ugh, which pocket was it?" Found it. You tip toe back to your bed and with the glow of your phone screen, slowly open the paper. You type in the phone number and write, 'hello?' You press the SEND button with your eyes closed. You open one eye. "It sent!" You open the other. You stare at the screen waiting for a response. A minute goes by. Two. Right before you turn off your screen, a response.

I knew you'd respond.

Who is this?

Felix.

[lyssismagical]

would you be so kind (as to fall in love with me)

Flash knew he shouldn’t have thought what he did when he saw the nerdiest kid in school, but damn the boy was cute. With curly brown hair and doe brown eyes and the biggest heart and endless intelligence. It really wasn’t Flash’s fault for finding himself with a mild crush on his classmate.

He knew he was gay. He’d known for a very long time, but it’d been easy enough to keep a secret when he’d never seen someone that caught his eye. It’d been easy enough to pretend to think girls were attractive to him and that boys were just boys and not crushes.

But then, on a dreary autumn morning, he’d seen Peter Parker wearing a dorky outfit and thick glasses and carrying a stack of books in his arms, a ratty backpack slung loosely over his shoulders, and laughing at something his friend had said.

It really wasn’t Flash’s fault for his crush, he blames Peter entirely.

*

He wants to be Peter’s friend. He just hasn’t worked up the courage to talk to the boy in his AP Chemistry and English. He doesn’t know how.

But all of his long-distance pining comes to an end one day when his father picks him up after school.

He sees Peter sitting on the front steps of the school with Ned, a stack of books at his feet and glasses crooked on his nose, looking just as pretty as ever in the afternoon sunlight to Flash.

“Don’t cross paths with those kinds of people,” his father says. Flash hates the way he stresses Those Kinds like Peter is less than them.

Outside, Peter laughs, bright and innocent at something Ned says.

“Of course not,” Flash agrees because he doesn’t quite know what to say.

“What a fag,” his father mutters before they’re peeling out of the parking lot and away from the school.

Flash doesn’t know how to do anything but agree, shame filling him to the brim.

*

His father’s never hit him, has never laid a hand on him, but the way he shouts, the disappointment in his eyes when he sends Flash up to his room, the shame.

It feels worse than a punch would.

*

Something inside him snaps when he sees Peter one day, riddled with guilt over his hidden secret and angry because his father shouted at him for hours the night before.

He shoves Peter when they’re walking down the stairs out of school.

He’ll never forget the sad and confused expression from Peter, rubbing his bleeding palms and staring up at Flash, making Flash feel like he kicked a puppy.

But his father smiles at him when he gets into the car, congratulating him for putting the freak in his place.

Is it worth it? No, he shouldn’t be so selfish as to ruin another kid’s life just to get his father’s approval. That’s not who he is. But he doesn’t care. His mother will be home in just a few days and all hell will break loose.

He’s right, of course he was.

As soon as his mother arrives home, the shouting begins once again.

“I can smell the cologne on you!” his father shouts, grabbing his mother’s discarded jacket off the back of the couch. “You were seeing another man!”

“You’re just jealous because I’m the only woman who would ever be with you!” his mother screams back, ripping the jacket out of his hands. “And I didn’t sleep with anyone! I went to an office party!”

“Like I’d believe any of your lies,” his father snarls. “And for your information, I could get any woman I want! I saw somebody just a few weeks ago!”

There’s the echoing noise of shattering glass, probably his mother throwing another dish. “You saw another woman?! Probably some drunk twenty-something-year-old slut you dragged to bed in exchange for a couple hundred bucks, right? You don’t deserve me!”

“I don’t deserve you?! You don’t deserve anything!”

The shouting is endless. Almost always escalating to throwing things, slamming doors, and Flash cleaning up the mess left behind.

Flash knows he can’t take out his pent-up anger on Peter, but the last thing he needs right now is for his family to find out about his crush on the nerdy dork from his high school. The last thing he needs is for them to find out he’s gay.

*

No matter how much Flash tries, Peter won’t hate him. He won’t fight back. He won’t shout at him or call him out or punch him. He just takes all of it with so much ease. He’ll listen to the words Flash throws at him and he’ll pick his glasses up off the floor and wince at yet another crack in the lenses. But he never fights back.

And no matter how hard Flash tries, his crush on Peter won’t fade away like he hoped it would.

Every time he sees the dork in his AP Chemistry or in English, his heart skips a couple beats and his breath hitches because somehow, every single day, Peter manages to look wonderful and smart and nerdy and cute and beautiful. And every single day, Flash has to endure two hours of trying not to stare.

*

He took it too far.

He knew it would happen eventually.

Tired of all the fighting happening in his home, including his father going as far as inviting his new fling over to make Flash’s mother jealous which ended in Flash driving the woman home and his father to the hospital to stitch up his hand where a shard of plate had cut him open when his mother threw it.

He knew he’d be angrier than usual and he knew he’d take it out on Peter for looking so fucking pretty in spring colours, hair tousled and messy.

“Stop- please- I can’t-” Peter’s sitting on the floor, head between his knees as he tries to get his breathing under control. There are tears staining his flushed cheeks and his hands won’t stop shaking, nearly as badly as his shoulders when a sob is pulled from his throat.

Flash reaches out to comfort the teenager, but Peter flinches harshly away from the hand, nearly smacking his head into the lockers behind him, and Flash pulls his hand away like it was burned.

“I’m sorry- I’m- I’m sorry,” Flash tries, guilt welling up inside him like it always does.

He locked Peter in a locker. It was supposed to be just another thing, like he always does. Something to take the edge off his anger and to make his feelings a little less intense. But Peter had started to cry when he’d gotten the door closed. And by the time Flash was able to open the lock again, Peter had already fallen pretty deeply into a panic attack.

Ned’s sick and Peter doesn’t really have any other friends to Flash’s knowledge, so either Flash leaves him totally alone or he stays.

“I’m sorry. I- I didn’t know- I didn’t-” Flash tries again, hands hovering uselessly in the air between them as Peter continues to steady his breathing carefully.

“Go. Please. Just- I- I just- I can’t- Please go.”

That answers his question for him. Flash isn’t about to push more than he already has, so he apologizes a few more times as he backs out of the room.

*

“I can’t do this anymore!” Flash shouts over the chaos between his parents.

“This isn’t for you to deal with, Eugene,” his father spits, barely looking over at him.

His father’s never been anything but angry with him, so Flash might as well push it over the edge, right?

“I’m gay,” Flash says, clenching his jaw and fists, trying not to let the emotions show on his face. He repeats it, more confidently to their shocked and confused faces, “I’m gay.”

*

He touches the swollen, purple skin around his eye, wincing at the spike of pain. He dabs away the blood on his split lip, frowning at his reflection in the dark window of a closed shop.

His parents finally agreed on something. Flash can’t really count that as a win, considering now he’s wandering the streets of Queens by himself in the middle of the night, nowhere to go.

No home. No family. Nothing.

Just his own shame and guilt.

The tears start falling before he can think to stop them, slipping down his cheeks and mixing with the blood on his lip.

A squeal of tires catches his attention and a sleek, black car pulls up on the sidewalk beside him. His first thought is that he’s getting kidnapped or mugged or murdered, just to add the cherry on top of the godawful day.

But then Peter fucking Parker steps out of the car, eyes wide and worried, reaching out towards Flash.

“Are you okay? What happened to you?” the younger boy asks with the kind of wide-eyed innocence Flash would hate to ruin. “Were you jumped?”

Flash can’t help but roll his glassy eyes. After everything, Peter still cares. “It’s nothing, Peter.”

A smile somehow spreads across the younger boy’s face.

“You called me Peter,” he murmurs before quickly snapping out of it. “Do you need a ride home? You live nearby, don’t you?”

“No,” Flash says. “I don’t live anywhere.”

He tips his head to the side in confusion, bambi eyes wide with concern. “What do you mean?”

“I got kicked out,” Flash admits. He gestures to his face carelessly. “My father’s doing.”

Peter’s face falls and before Flash knows it, he’s being gently nudged into the black car.

There are two men sitting in the front seats. Flash is too tired to try to introduce himself so he lays his head against the cool window and finds solace in the warm fingers on his forearm, grounding him.

The car pulls away and soon, they’re parking outside a shabby apartment near the heart of Queens. Peter’s place probably.

“C’mon,” he says, voice warm and low. “You can have my bed for tonight, I’ll take the couch. We can figure out what to do in the morning.”

Peter gets out of the car, but before Flash has the mind to follow, the man in passenger turns around, revealing Tony Stark.

“Hey, kid,” Tony says softly. “Your dad did that to you?”

Flash nods wordlessly, touching his swollen eye with cold fingers.

The hero nods like this is just what he expected. “I don’t do the whole heart to heart thing, but I get it. My dad never said he loved me, never even said he liked me. I would take out my anger on the people around me and on myself. I hurt a lot of people before I realized I needed to break the cycle.”

“This was the first time,” Flash finds himself admitting. “He’s never hit me before.”

Tony offers a sympathetic smile. “What did you do? Forget to do the dishes? Failed a test?”

“Came out as gay.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and wrong.

“I’m sorry, kid.”

“Me too.”

*

Flash sits down on the edge of Peter’s bed. His room is exactly how he imagined it to be. Nerdy and dorky and small.

“You can sleep here for tonight,” Peter says, collecting some extra blankets from the top shelf in his closet. Flash hates that he watches Peter’s shirt lift and show off his pale slender hips. “I’ll take the couch.”

Flash wants to say that it wouldn’t be fair, after Everything. But he’s too tired to argue.

Peter’s suddenly there, kneeling down in front of him, eyes wide and soft and brown like coffee, small warm hands on his knees, worry seeping out of him.

“Are you okay?”

How is Flash supposed to answer that?

He’s spent two years bullying the teenager in front of him to hide his own sexuality. He’s made the boy cry more times than he can count. He made him have a panic attack. How is any of that okay?

And yet, at the end of it all, Peter’s the only one here for him, the only one he has.

How is that okay?

Flash’s voice is hollow. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay too,” Peter murmurs. He moves away from the bed, back to the closet and pulls out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He pushes them into Flash’s hands and offers another one of his gentle smiles.

“I’m sorry-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Peter says, voice soft as ever, like a blanket settling over him. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Flash repeats. He needs Peter to understand the amount of guilt that’s filling him up and making him sick to his stomach. “I’m so fucking sorry and I- I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.”

“It’s okay,” Peter repeats, just as sincerely as before. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I just hope we can move on from that.”

Flash nods quickly, that’s the only thing he wants. He wants to forget about the past two years of hatred and fighting in favor of friendship.

“I’m gay,” Flash admits. He might as well. If Peter hates him for it, he might as well get it over with now. His head is murky and he’s tired. He doesn’t care about anything anymore.

But Peter smiles instead of all the other possibilities. “Hello, Gay. I’m Bi.”

And then he laughs, still quietly but full of so much life, Flash wishes he could have some of that life that Peter seems to have endless amounts of.

“Get some rest, Flash. Bathroom’s across the hall and I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

He’s never loved anyone, has never been loved before. His parents barely gave him a second thought, his friends are all just acquaintances, he’s only ever had one crush.

But he’s overcome right then and there, sitting in Peter’s bedroom and looking into Peter’s bambi eyes, that he loves him. He loves Peter Parker.

*

Walking into school, side by side with Peter, turns a lot of heads.

Flash is wearing Peter’s jeans and Peter’s shirt with a nerdy science pun written on the front and he smells like Peter’s shampoo and body wash, a mix of vanilla sugar and mango.

And Peter’s at his side, arms touching they’re walking so close together. The bruise on his eye is still there, still swollen, still a dark purple color, a reminder of what happened the night before.

But if he had to take a few punches to have the courage to apologize to Peter and to admit to himself that he loves him, then so what. He’d take a beating every day for the rest of his life if it means being allowed to walk the earth with Peter at his side.

“What are you doing?” Ned demands when they reach Peter’s locker.

Flash looks up, knowing he must look like shit, but Ned recognizes his jeans and shirt and the bruises on his face, and something must click.

“What happened?” he asks, a lot quieter. People seem to always want to talk to him quietly now.

“It’s nothing, Ned. Don’t worry about it,” Peter jumps in. “I’m going to go to the bathroom before class. I’ll be back in a few.”

The moment he’s turned the corner, Ned turns on him angrily.

“If you’re using him or if this is some fucking joke, I want you to back off right now. Peter’s too nice for his own good and he’s too naïve. So please, for the love of god, just leave him alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Flash says. He has a lot to apologize for, but he hopes this will be enough until he can get his thoughts straightened. “I don’t want to hurt him. I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing then? If you don’t want to hurt him, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Flash doesn’t know how to answer without outing himself. “I’m sorry.”

“You sound like Peter, jesus, I don’t want an apology. I just want to know why. Yesterday, you called him more names than I can count and you locked him in a locker. And now you’re best buds? I don’t get it. And Peter’s my best friend, so I need to know why.”

“I got kicked out,” Flash whispers, eyes dropping to the floor, watching Ned’s tapping shoes. “My parents kicked me out and he- he let me stay with him… I- I’m sorry about everything.”

Ned’s face falls. “Oh. Jeez, Flash, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s- It’s whatever. I just- I’m sorry.”

“Do you mean that? Are you really sorry or are you just sorry because you need him?”

There’s a long few tense moments of silence before Flash admits it, panic and desperation engulfing him. He just needs to say it.

“I love him,” Flash blurts. “I- I’m gay and I- I’ve liked him for a really long time. I just- my parents and I- I-”

“You don’t have to explain, Flash,” Ned mumbles. “I believe you. You’re an honorary part of our Losers Club. But if you fuck anything up, that’s it, okay? Peter would forgive you in a heartbeat, but I have to protect him.”

Flash nods. He understands. He’s been hurting him for years, it’s fair that nobody will trust him. He doesn’t even deserve this much from this, let alone genuine friendship from them.

“Thank you,” he says before adding another. “I’m sorry.”

He wonders if he’ll ever stop being sorry.

He doubts it.

*

Peter’s a great friend. He’s genuine and sweet and forgiving and he’s always making jokes and smiling. (And he just looks so pretty and beautiful, wide bambi-brown eyes sparkling, tousled curls- Flash can’t help himself from staring.)

Ned’s hesitant and he watches Flash watch Peter as the younger boy laughs and reads and talks and does his homework and smiles and answers all the questions in class.

It’s different and everyone stares, but Flash is too busy staring at Peter to really notice any of it.

*

Flash stays at Peter and May’s apartment while he tries to sort everything out. He can’t go back home, he tried to call his mother, but she didn’t even bother to pick up the phone let alone pathetically listen to him plead.

He doesn’t really have a lot of family he can rely on. His father doesn’t really have any family, all of them alienated from their rich lifestyle, and his mother has one stepsister who has dual citizenship in both Canada and the US while pursuing her acting career.

He’d somehow have to convince her to move to Queens just for him to stay somewhere until he can graduate and live by himself.

Peter says she’ll say yes, of course she will, but even if she doesn’t, it’s not as though he’ll be back on the streets again. He’s allowed to stay with the Parker’s for as long as he needs to.

He could never be more grateful for what they’ve done for him.

*

“Hey,” Flash starts, sitting anxiously on the edge of Peter’s bed. They’ve been taking turns on the bed and couch after it turned into a more long-term thing. “It’s, um, it’s Flash.”

“Flash?”

“Eugene,” he rephrases. “I go by Flash now.”

Tessa lets out a quiet laugh. “Don’t like the family name anymore?”

“I got kicked out,” Flash admits quietly. He knows this isn’t a good place to start, but Peter’s comforting and warm at his side, bambi-brown eyes a constant safe haven. “I came out as gay and they kicked me out.”

He’s found that the more he says it, the easier it is to say. He’s had one bad and one good experience. He doesn’t really care how Tessa reacts because either way, he has a place to stay here with Peter.

“Oh, hon, I’m so sorry. I thought my sister was better than that, but I guess not,” she says, an obvious eyeroll in her tone. “Your father, though, I didn’t expect much more than the worst. Do you need somewhere to stay? I’m in Toronto right now, but it’s only a few hours flight to get down to Queens.”

“Would you?” Flash asks, hating how pathetically young and small he sounds. Peter’s hand tightens in his.

“Yeah, of course, you shouldn’t have to go through something like this. That’s awful. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

Flash explains how he’s been staying with Peter for the past couple weeks and how he just needs someone a little more permanent, but that she can take her time since she’s moving her whole life just for him.

“I’ll get a flight down this weekend then, honey. No worries. I’ll let you know when I get there, okay? I love you, kiddo. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Tessa says. “I’ve gotta go to talk to my manager, but I’ll book flights as soon as everything’s settled.”

“Thank you,” Flash murmurs. “I love you too.”

When he hangs up, he wants to say it to Peter too, who’s sitting right next to him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, but he doesn’t. He settles for a simple thank you.

*

It felt like it was turning into an obsession.

I love you he’d think when Peter would get him breakfast before school.

I love you, on the tip of his tongue when Peter would smile and lean over to help him with their AP Chemistry homework.

I love you the only thing on his mind when Peter would laugh at his jokes and let him borrow his clothes and cover for him whenever his thoughts dragged him back to bed in the mornings before school.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-

He loves Peter Parker more than he can handle.

*

He meets Tony Stark for real the day before he’s supposed to be moving into his aunt’s new apartment which just so happens to be the building over from Peter’s.

Peter takes him to the tower to visit Tony who’s apparently been asking about him. It’s just for a few hours before he’s getting picked up by Tessa to start shopping for furniture.

“Hey, kiddos. It’s been a while since I’ve seen either of you,” Tony greets, sitting them down at the dining room table and opening up two boxes of pizza. “Everything going alright?”

“I’m moving in with aunt officially tomorrow,” Flash explains quietly, averting his eyes. Peter’s warm at his side, having dragged his chair a few inches over to sit shoulder to shoulder. “I couldn’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me-”

“I’ve said it a thousand times,” Peter says, softly and breath warm where it fans out against Flash’s shoulder when he turns his head. “You don’t need to thank me for this. It’s the least I could do.”

“I was awful to you.”

Peter shrugs like it’s no big deal. Like he hasn’t cried dozens of times because of Flash, like he hasn’t sported bruises Flash gave him, like Flash hasn’t caused panic attacks and breakdowns in the school hallways.

“You were trying to protect yourself; I understand why you did what you did. I did some pretty awful things after my uncle… And anyways, you’ve apologized, and I forgave you,” Peter says, offering a smile, looking pretty and eyes sparkling, so close to Flash, all he can think about is Peter’s warm breath and trusting bambi-brown eyes.

He wants to kiss him. He wants to say the words aloud.

I love you, he thinks. I love you, I love you, I love you.

*

Flash moves in with Tessa in the apartment across the alley from Peter.

They walk to and from school together, they hang out at Peter’s apartment after school, they go to Academic Decathlon together, they even hang out on weekends frequently.

And Peter with his sparkling wide bambi-brown eyes and his tousled curly hair and the biggest heart and endless intelligence, has all of Flash’s love.

Flash wouldn’t want it any other way.

*

I love you.

I love you too.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideyspeaches @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl101 @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames @you-did-it-sir {Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed}

[maaaaaatryoshka0325]

Den Of Sins - Part 5

Bang Chan

Requested 💕

Theme: Beach wear

Description: Welcome to Den Of Sin’s, a fast rising modeling agency. You get offered the job, but your boss informs you that you need to keep your body in tip top shape, and tells you you’ll have five different body trainers to teach you. During these “trainings” you learn where the company gets its name from.

Workout: Circuit

Warnings; unprotected sex, choking, spanking, degradation, oral, fingering, thigh riding, daddy kink (bless my soul I don’t even have a daddy kink) Chan is also my dream dom

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

“Wow, Hyunjin really marked you up, huh?” Your stylists asked, noticing the marks Hyunjin had left you were still there.

It’s been quite a few days since your shoot with Hyunjin, and his marks were fading, but still noticeable.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have them covered up and you’ll be ready for Chan.” She giggled, giving you a wink.

“What’s he like?” You asked suddenly, glancing at her.

“Two words, hot and Australian.” She said with a giggle.

“Isn’t Felix Australian?” You asked.

“Yes, that’s why they’re such close friends.” She said, beckoning you to follow her.

“What’s the theme?” You asked.

“Beach wear.” She said with a big grin.

You nodded as she handed you a bikini, then a small sundress to go over it. She put your hair up in a messy bun and gave you a sun visor and sunglasses. She led you to a large room, where sand lined the floor and a ocean scene was in the background. You stepped in, your eyes getting used to the bright lights, that’s surrounded the room, then your eyes landed somewhere else. A man stood in the center of the sand filled room, his curly brown hair falling upon his eyes. He had broad shoulders, and an amazing physique. Your eyes lowered and your breath got caught in your throat, his bulge prominent in the swim shorts he wore. The tight swim shirt stuck to his chest, like it didn’t want to let go of his perfect body. Your photographer approached him and began to give him instructions, and you watched him nod as he listened closely to what your photographer had to say. Your photographer turned and looked at you, giving you a smile as he beckoned you over. You approached the two and gave a polite bow to your photographer and Chan.

“Y/N this is Chan, Chan this is Y/N.” He said, introducing the two of you.

Chan politely bowed and smiled at you, dimples poking through his cheeks. You honestly couldn’t believe how handsome he was, everything about him was attractive. His smile, his eyes, his hands, his body, his legs, everything. The photographer led you both to the center, where a volley ball net was set up.

“We’re gonna get playful shots this round, so I want you both to at least look like you’re playing.” He said. 

“Can you play volley ball?” Chan asked.

“You want to find out?” You asked playfully.

“Maybe I do.” He said, his eyes mischievous.

You smiled at him as he tossed you the volley ball.

“Ladies serve first.” He said with a polite smile.

“What a gentleman.” You said with a giggle.

You got on one side of the net, the ball in your hands. When Chan situated himself, you lightly threw the ball up and hit it with both of your hands together, sending it over. Chan moved quickly and hit it back over, his pretty hands together as it hit his hands. You jumped back and hit it back over, sending it over his head and landing on the ground. You jumped up and gave him a smile, the camera flashing and catching your victory jump.

“Alright alright, you got this one.” Chan said with a smile as he picked up the ball and tossed it back over to you.

You smiled as you threw the ball up and smacked it over the net, Chan jumping up and hitting it back over to you. You leaped and hit it over again, and Chan slid on the ground and bumped it back over the net, the ball bouncing on the ground beside your feet. You pouted as Chan stood up, a smile on his face.

“Got ya this time.” He chuckled.

“Yeah yeah.” You pouted, passing him back the ball. 

He smiled as he threw it up in the air, hitting it hard as it flew over the net. You squealed as you were just able to hit it in time, the ball flying and hitting the net.

“Yah! Are you trying to kill me?” You yelled.

He chuckled as you picked the ball up and tossed it back to him, his eyes glistening. 

“Sorry babygirl, I’ll be more gentle. Maybe.” He said with a wink.

Babygirl?

You nodded and stepped back away from the net, going to the center. Chan threw the ball up in the air again, hitting it directly to you. You jumped and hit it back to them, and the two of you kept it up for a couple minutes, until you decided to spike it, making it bounce directly off of Chan’s broad chest. A loud smacking found filled the room, and everyone fell silent. He looked down at the spot it hit then back up at you, arching a brow.

“Was that necessary?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, it was an accident.” You said, your eyes big and innocent.

You heard him chuckle, his dark eyes on you.

“Feigning innocent hm? Fine, I won’t go easy on you.” He said with a small smirk.

You knew he wasn’t just talking about the volley ball game, excitement filling your body.

“Do your worst.” You said, your eyes on him as you twirled around, purposely swinging your hips.

You could feel his eyes burning into your back, more specifically, your butt. You got yourself ready and Chan threw the ball up, hitting the ball and sending it flying over your head, landing behind you. You turned quickly, then looked back at him.

“Was that necessary?” You asked, mocking his voice.

“Keep it up babygirl, you won’t be back talking me later.” He said, his eyes narrowed on you as he stood close to the net on the opposite side.

“We’ll see.” You said, tossing the ball back to him.

He ignored the ball as he lifted the net over his head and stepped under it, his dark eyes narrowed.

“What was that?” He asked.

“Oh nothing.” You said innocently, your eyes big.

Chan lifted you up and slung you over your shoulder, making you squeal. The camera’s flashed as you both laugh. Chan lifted you up, your stomach on his chest as he looked up at you. He smiled at him as the camera flashed, then he lowered you.

“That’s the only time you’ll be looking down at me.” He growled in your ear.

“We’ll see about that.” You said with a small smirk.

He gripped your chin and pulled your lips into his own, his grip firm but not too tight. His plump lips felt soft against your own, tasting of vanilla. You smiled into the kiss, until you looked into his eyes, his eyes intimidating. You froze in place, your eyes not leaving his. He smirked at you as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

“Be a good submissive bitch for me, hm?” He asked, his voice husky.

“Who said I’m a sub?” You asked, against his ear.

“Oh baby, you’d be crazy to think you could dom me.” He chuckled into your ear.

You hummed into his ear as the stylists and photographer came over.

“Alright, we’re going to do a breezy scene. Chan, shirt off. Y/N, dress off.” The photographer instructed.

You nodded and lifted the dress over your head, the top of the bikini showing off your cleavage, the bottoms making your butt pop. You pulled your hair out of the messy bun, your hair flowing down. Chan took his shirt off, his ripped body on full display. He had a well defined chest, and a body to die for. He smiled when he saw you look at his body, and you turned away with a blush. He walked by you to get to the next scene around, his lips grazing your ear.

“Like what you see babygirl?” He asked.

You blushed and pulled away from him.

“I’ve seen better.” You said with a small smirk.

His eyes narrowed as he watched you walk past him, his jaw tensing as you sent him an innocent smile. He followed you to your assigned spots, him standing directly in front of you. You put your hands on his chest and flashed the camera a smile as large fans blew against the both of you, your hair blowing. Chan’s hand was on your hip, his grip firm. He lifted you up and on his one shoulder, the camera flashing as your face flushed red. His strong shoulder kept you up as the camera continued to flash. After the flashing camera’s ended, Chan walked away to dry his wet hair, which was beautifully curly as he rubbed his hair with a towel. He had gotten the shitty end of the stick and got hit with the water, which you dodged by ducking behind his larger body.

“Great shoot today Y/N.” Your stylist said, giving you a wink. “We’ll see you next week, this workout will be.... intense.” 

You watched her walk away as Chan came up beside you, his dark eyes raking up and down your form.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“What’s the workout today?” You asked.

“Circuit.” He answered, leading you to a clean spot.

“Am I going to be running the whole time?” You asked.

“No.” He answered. “Too much cardio will burn too much fat, and you’ll lose your boobs and your butt first.”

“Ahh, it would be a shame to lose lose those, hm?” You asked, arching a brow.

“Maybe, if you had either of them to begin with.” He said with a smirk. “But that’s what I’m here for.”

You puffed your cheeks in irritation as your cheeks burned at his insult. He turned his back towards you and got ready to show you your first workout.

“You weren’t saying that when your eyes were all over my tits and ass earlier.” You shot at him.

He whipped his head around, his jaw tight as his eyes darkened.

“I wouldn’t keep back talking if I were you babygirl.” He growled.

“Or what?” You asked, arching a brow.

You nearly yelped as he quickly reached an arm out, his fingers wrapping around your throat. You quickly shut your mouth, your eyes wide as his narrowed eye glared down at you.

“Fuck this workout shit, you need to learn your place.” He growled.

You whined when he tightened his grip as he brought you foreword by your throat. 

“Not so mouthy now, huh slut?” He asked, his lips dragging along your ear and cheek.

You whined as he smirked, pushing you back until you entered the room attached to the one you had just modeled in. It looked like a lounge room, a few living room chairs here and there, and one long couch. Chan sat on one of the chairs, bringing you down to straddle one of his thighs by your throat.

“I think you owe me a little show for the trouble you were giving me babygirl.” He purred.

You looked down at him in confusion, earning a harsh slap to your basically bare ass. You yelped as he gripped your ass tightly, moving your hips along his thigh.

“Ride my thigh.” He growled.

You whined as you began to roll your hips on his thigh, his swim shorts and your bikini bottoms making it hard to get a good feeling. Yeah it was turning you on, but it wasn’t giving you the friction your body was beginning to need. You rolled your hips and let out a loud whine when his hands squeezed your ass hard, moving your hips faster on his thigh.

“For someone who said I didn’t have much ass or tits, you sure are grabbing a handful of my ass.” You breathed out with a small smirk.

You yelped as his hand came down hard on the flesh of your ass, his eyes dark.

“You really don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?” He growled, his finger digging deeply into the soft flesh of your ass.

You remained silent as his eyes roamed your neck and collar bones.

“Little slut is still marked up from Hyunjin, huh? You’re so dirty babygirl, such a bad girl.” He said, his lips attaching to the skin on your left collar bone. 

His plump lips left wet kisses as he sucked harshly on your skin, marking both sides of your collar bones as he continued to guide your hips on his thigh. You whined when he pulled away, a small smirk on his face.

“What’s wrong babygirl?” He asked.

“I need more.” You whined.

“Oh, I know.” He purred. “I just don’t think you deserve to be taken care of.”

You whined at his words, your hips rolling lazily on his thigh. His eyes were dark as he lifted you off his thigh, dropping you onto the floor on your knees.

“If you’re a good girl and suck me off right, I’ll think of giving you what you want.” He said.

You quickly worked the top of his swim shorts down, his length springing up. Chan had the most perfect length you had ever laid eyes on. He was big, and his girth was almost too much for you to look at. He had a large vein running along it, following along his dick and the delicious curve it had. His tip was a pretty pink collar, pre cum slightly lining his slit.

“Are you going to wait all night, or do you not want to cum?” He asked, his eyes narrowed on you.

You shook your head quickly and spit on your hand, bringing it to his base. His eyes watched your hand slide up and down his length, your saliva making it easier. You brought your mouth to his tip and ran your tongue along the slit, then dragged your tongue down to the base and back up to his head.

“Just like that baby.” He purred, his fingers tangling in your hair.

You took his tip into your mouth and swirled your tongue around the head, his precum sweeter than the average guys. (Why do you think he drinks pineapple juice guys). You began to slide him down your throat, bobbing your head to take him deeper every time. You felt him grip your hair tight when you lightly ran your teeth along his length.

“You’re playing a dangerous game babygirl.” He growled.

You chuckled and sent vibrations through his length, making him bite his lip. You ran your teeth along his length again, making him grip your hair tight enough to have you whimpering.

“And here I thought you’d be good, you disappointed me babygirl.” He growled, gripping your hair tightly as he began to thrust into your mouth.

Tears brimmed your eyes from the feeling of his thrusting into the back of your throat, your nose brushing his pelvic bone every time he thrusted into your mouth. You gagged around him as he began to pick up the pace, your eyes closing tightly as you choked and gagged around him.

“Fuck.” He growled, his hand tightening on your hair.

You felt hot spurts coat your tongue as he out just enough to allow some to hit your tongue, before pulling out of your mouth with a pop and cumming on your cheeks and lips. Your eyes closed as his hot spurts covered you the skin on your face, feeling it drip down from your face and onto your chest and the floor. You opened your eyes and met his, his eyes still dark as he gripped your chin tightly.

“I think you’re in for a long night kitten.” He growled.

He grabbed a hold of your bikini top and made you get up. He pulled the back strings and it came undone, your boobs popping right out. He pushed you onto the chair, raising your legs up as he ripped the bottoms off of you. His eyes raked along your figure, his eyes resting specifically on your soaked heat.

“You’re so wet babygirl.” He said, his fingers gently dancing along your thigh. “And I have yet to touch you at all.”

You whined as he ran a finger over your slit, making him smirk.

“What do you want babygirl?” He asked.

You bit your lip, not wanting to give in to him. He chuckled as he looked up at you, his dark eyes amused.

“I already came babygirl, I can walk out right now and be completely fine.” He purred. “So I suggest you change your attitude.” You yelped as he flipped you over, your ass high as your hands gripped the back of the chair. His hands ran over the swell of your ass, before dipping down and running along your lower lips. 

“I can feel how wet you are without even having to touch that pretty pussy of yours.” He chuckled. “Don’t you have such a pretty pussy baby? Don’t you want me to touch it?”

You didn’t respond, you bit down on your lip harshly. You yelped as he slammed his hand down on your ass, landing another harsh slap right after. Tears brimmed your eyes at the stinging sensation as another whack filled the air.

“I asked you a question babygirl, and I expect to be answered.” He growled, gripping your hair with one hand and bringing your head back, his other hand on one of your asscheeks. “Or does a certain little slut not want to cum?”

You tried to control yourself, you bit down so hard on your lip, but a whimper escaped past your lips.

“What was that?” He asked.

“Please.” You whimpered. “Please touch me.”

“That’s a good girl, I knew you’d change your attitude at some point.” He purred, running his hand along the arch in your back. “Such a good submissive bitch.”

You felt one of his pretty fingers run along your soaked slit, until it came to your entrance. You yelped as he pushed two fingers into you quickly, pumping them in and out of you.

“You took two fingers quickly babygirl, you’re just so wet.” He purred. 

He curled his fingers, your own digging into the leather of the back of the chair as squelching noises filled the small room. You whimpered as he slowly slipped in a third finger, his fingers pumping in and out of your heat quickly. Your whimpers became louder as your legs began to shake. The way his fingers pushed against your gspot as they curled had your orgasm fast approaching. Just as you were about to hit, just one more thrust of his fingers, he ripped his fingers out of your heat.

“C-Chan, what-” You whimpered.

“I said I’d think of letting you get what you want.” Chan said with a smirk. “I don’t think you deserve to cum yet.” You felt him flip you back over, your legs wide open, pussy on full display for him. His eyes shone as he looked at your arousal dripping down your thighs and along your ass, a small smirk on his face.

“You have such a slutty pussy baby, are you a slut?” He purred.

You shook your head and he smirked as he lightly rolled your clit with the tip of one of his fingers. You whimpered as you bucked your hips towards his touch, just needing some kind of relief, and attention to your sensitive bundle. He pulled his finger away and you whined as he quickly swiped it back over your clit.

“Fine, fine! I’m a slut! Please, please touch me.” You begged, tears filling your eyes from the frustration.

“That’s a good girl.” He purred.

He dropped down to his knees and blew on your clit, earning a loud, pleading whine from you. He smiled as he licked a long, teasingly light strip from your entrance to your clit. You whimpered and bucked your hips into his face, making his grip your hips tightly.

“So needy.” He chuckled, pulling your clit between his lips as he began to suck on it.

You moaned loudly as you closed your eyes tight, the feeling of his lips wrapped around your clit making you more needier. Your hand flew to his hair as he sucked your clit into his mouth, making him pull away as he pushed your hands away from him.

“Did I say you could touch me kitten?” He asked.

You shook your head and put your hands at your side, gripping the leather beneath you. He chuckled as he licked up your slit again, before plunging his tongue into your soft walls. You let out a loud moan as his tongue lapped at your walls, his fingers digging into your thigh as he began to push his tongue in and out of you.

“You taste good babygirl.” He purred into your heat, sending more vibrations through you.

He buried his face between you thighs, his tongue swirling around your walls, making you begin to see stars. Your body moved on it’s own, your back arching and your hips pushing against his face.

“Are you gonna cum kitten?” He asked.

You nodded as his tongue continued to swirl around your walls. You let out a loud whine as he pulled away just as you were about to cum, tears dripping down your eyes.

“Please let me cum Chan, please.” You whimpered.

“Daddy.” He growled. “Call me daddy.”

To say you were surprised would be a lie, and honestly you expected Chan to have a daddy kin. His whole aura screamed daddy kink.

“Please daddy.” You whined.

“Please what?” He asked.

“Please fuck me, please let me cum daddy.” You whined.

“That’s a good little slut.” He purred.

He lifted your legs and put them over his shoulders as he grabbed his length and slapped it on your clit, making your body jolt from the sensitivity. Your eyes met his as he rubbed his length up and down your slit, soaking the head of his dick in your juices. He pressed his tip to your entrance, teasing your dripping hole.

“Please.” You whimpered.

“Hm?” He asked, arching a brow.

“Please fuck me daddy, please let me cum. I’ll be a good- oh fuck!” You were cut off from begging as Chan shoved his length into you, bottoming out in one go.

The stretch made you whimper loudly as he pulled out to the tip and slammed himself back in, starting a rough pace.

“Holy shit you’re so fucking tight.” He rasped, his hips pounding into you.

“Fuck, you’re so thick.” You whimpered, your eyes shut tight.

Your nails dug into his biceps as he slammed into you, his hands holding your waist tightly. His dark eyes met yours as he pounded you into the leather chair, his curly hair damp with sweat.

“Can I touch you? Fuck- please let me touch you daddy.” You begged.

“Go ahead babygirl.” He grunted out, his length bottoming out with every rough thrust.

You tangled your fingers in his soft, curly locks, lightly tugging. He groaned as his hips stuttered a bit, before picking up the pace. Your mind was going hazy, your pussy still screaming from his thick length stretching your walls full.

“You’re so fucking tight, your pussy is struggling still.” He groaned in your ear, his accent thicker, his voice deeper.

“It’s because you’re so big daddy.” You moaned. “You fill me up.”

He smirked as he latched his mouth onto your nipple, making your back arch into his face. His hips sped up, loud slapping sounds coming from his thighs colliding off of yours. Your pussy began to clench around him, making him groan.

“Are you gonna cum babygirl?” He asked, his voice husky.

“Yes, please let me cum daddy. Please, I’ve been good.” You begged, your voice shaking.

“Go ahead and cum kitten.” He rasped out.

Your whole body shook as you came around him, your thighs made a death grip around his hips as your back arched as a loud moan ripped through your throat. You felt him spill inside of you, your eyes closing as his hips stuttered as he continued to rock his hips into yours. You looked up at him as he grabbed your throat, your eyes widening as you realized he was still hard, even after cumming. Your moans became choked as he pounded into you, his jaw clenched tight.

“H-How are you still hard?” You choked out.

“Your pussy just feels so good babygirl. I can keep going and going.” He rasped.

His fingers dug into the sides of your throat as he watched his length plunge in and out of you, loving the way your pussy could hardly handle his girth, clinging to it like a vice every time he pulled out. He let go of your throat and lifted you up, your legs still over his shoulders, his hands on your ass as he thrusted up into you, bouncing you down on his length. Your eyes closed tight as he was deep inside of you, his length stretching the deepest parts of you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whimpered. 

“Does it feel good babygirl?” He asked through clenched teeth, his eyes watching your face.

“It feels so good daddy.” You whimpered.

“Who fucked you the best baby?” He asked, gliding you up and down his length as he pounded up into you.

You let out a whimper at his words, not knowing how to answer. Chan took this as you being rebellious, and dropped you onto the arm of the couch. Your back was on the cushion, your hips in the air and rested on the arm. He shoved himself back into you, his eyes dark.

“Was it Jisung?” He asked, thrusting harshly into you. “Or Felix?”

You whimpered at his words, a choked wail leaving your lips as he slammed as deep as he could get into you.

“Or maybe Hyunjin?” He asked, pulling out to the tip and slamming back in the same way. “Or Minho? I know Minho fucked you nice and rough.”

You cried out as he grabbed your throat, his eyes dark and threatening and he pounding into you, making you take every inch of him as he kept up an unforgiving pace.

“So who was it babgirl? Who fucked you the best?” He asked, a smirk on his face.

“You! Fuck, fuck, fuck, you daddy!” You screamed out as you came around him, your body twitching as you soaked the couch and his lower half.

“Damn did you just squirt?” He asked, a smirk on his face as he looked down at your fucked out expression. “None of them made you squirt, did they?” “N-No!” You choked out, your eyes rolling back as he continued to pound into you, his fingers pressed into the sides of your neck.

The position he had you in gave you a clear view of his length plummeting in and out of you, completely ruining you. Your eyes remained on where you were both connected as he pounded you into oblivion, his chest shining with sweat, curly hair damp and hanging in his eyes.

His hips stuttered as he filled you again, and again, and again. You came more times than you could count, your body being sent into over drive. It felt so good, and hurt at the same time.

His hips slammed into yours as he held your face down into the couch, your arms limply at your sides, your shaking, twitching legs desperately trying to support you. His fingers were tangled in your hair, his one heavy hand holding your head down, the other clutching your hip tightly to slam your hips back on his own. Your asscheeks, thighs, legs, and his whole lower half were sticky from the mixture of both of your juices. Between the two times he’s gotten you to squirt, the multiple times he’s filled you, and your numerous orgasms, it was a complete mess. The room reeked of sex, filling your nose as he continued to ruin you.

Your moans and whimpers became choked and incoherent, your throat raw. Your body hurt and felt so good at the same time as he pounded you into the couch, the leather soaked in both of your juices.

“Fuck babygirl, this is the last one.” He grunted.

You felt his fingers on your clit, making you let out a glass shattering scream as he slammed into your cervix, the both of you cumming at the same time. Chan let out a loud groan as he thrusted shallowly into you. When his hips came to a halt, your lower half dropped down to the soaked couch, your whole body shaking as you let out shaky whimpers. Chan’s eyes watched as your stretched hole flowed out a mixture of your essences. You had cum all down your legs, your thighs, your ass, and your back. Chan’s whole lower half was soaked, and he smirked at his work. 

He walked away and came back with the beach towel props and cleaned you up, being extra careful of your sensitive core. He cleaned up the couch and then pulled you into him, cradling you against his strong body.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that?” He asked, his fingers gliding over your shaking body. “Such a good, good babygirl.”

He pushed your hair out of your face and stroked your hair. You buried your face into his chest as his demeanor changed into one much softer. He draped a blanket over you both as he held you to his strong chest as you began to calm down.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, those orgasms made my mind blank out.” You rasped out.

He handed you a cup of water to ease your dry throat, then set it back when you gulped it down.

“You did very good today babygirl.” He said, stroking your hair as you snuggled back into his chest. 

“That was the most intense sex I’ve ever had, besides with Minho.” You said, letting out a weak laugh.

“Oh believe me babygirl.” He said, lifting your chin so you were looking in his eyes. “We still have a long way to go before we’re finished with you.”

[wendimydarling]

Henry's characters as Greek/Roman Gods 😆

OKAY girl. I’m finally getting around to this. I did a lot of research as I’m not superly familiar with all of the greek gods and their stories, but I did a pretty good job I think, and I ran the list by @littlefreya and @agniavateira; they stan (for the most part)!

All of my info (including the quotes I will use) I pulled from this website, so if anything isn’t accurate, I’m sorry! Here we goooooooo!

Stephen Colley

Stephen Colley is Aristaeus, minor patron god of useful arts, such as gardening and hunting. I’m basing this off of who he was and his role to the family, NOT on the sudden acting career that was thrust upon him.

“In Greek mythology, Aristaeus was the god useful arts, such as bee-keeping and cheese-making, olive-growing, herding, and hunting. He was a rustic god, a god of the countryside and pastoral places.”

Aristaeus also would visit cities, see the problems, and find a solution, which is basically what Stephen did for the bitch he was in love with, to the detriment of his own heart.

Mikey

Mikey is Momus. the god of Mockery and Satire.

“Momus is typically depicted as a man lifting a mask from his face. In more modern art, he is depicted as a fool or king’s jester.

Greek tragedian Sophocles wrote a satyr play called Momus. Satyr plays were tragicomedies with choruses of satyrs. The plays were often full of drunkenness, sexuality, sight gags, and other forms of merriment.”

Mikey loves a good joke and to fool around. He didn’t take life seriously, he wanted to have fun. 

Melot

Melot is Dinlas, god of chaos and hatred. Dinlas was abandoned by his mother and banished to the underworld where Hades discovered him and turned him into an agent of darkness, similarly to how Melot wasn’t as well received by his uncle as Tristan was, and so was taken in by Wictred and used for evil.

Hades gave Dinlas a job that seemed right and good, much how Melot thought that he was doing what was best for the kingdom. Both of them sought acceptance and love wherever they could find it, and for both of them it was ultimately their downfall. 

Evan Marshall

Evan is the god Paean, physician to the Olympic gods. Paean treated everyone from Ares to Hades, he didn’t differentiate. This may seem like an obvious choice, but it goes a step further.

“The name “Paean” was also commonly used in a general sense to refer to anyone who could save people from evil or calamity.”

This is Evan. He was brought in by his brother to save their home from the evil that resided in that bunker, and he did what he had to, wishing to save not just his family but the family that lived there, regardless of what his brother thought. He didn’t differentiate, same as Paean.

Charles Brandon

Charles is Kratos, god of strength and power. I’m basing this off of the myths that include his lineage as the son of the Titans Pallas and Styx, which makes him a relative of the Olympian gods but not one of them directly.

“In this form, Kratos is seen as a companion of Zeus and the guardian of his throne. He is usually one of Zeus’ primary enforcers and is an extension of his will.”

This is Charles. Friend of the King and Enforcer of His Will, even when it means carrying out unnecessary vengeance, similarly to how Kratos was required to chain Prometheus to a rock to be tortured for all eternity after Prometheus stole fire for humans.

Clark Kent/Kal-El

Clark is Atlas, who was a Titan instead of a god. This might seem like an unusual choice, but hear me out. Atlas chose a side and lost, and because of it was forced to carry the weight of the heavens on his shoulders for the rest of his life. Clark too was forced to choose a side, and though he didn’t necessarily “lose”, he still had to carry the weight of that burden on his shoulders for the rest of his life.

“Atlas was known as being ‘stout-hearted,’ strong, resilient and only a little gullible”

Clark is all of those things. And when I say gullible, I more just mean that he’s so good, so innocent, people have been able to take advantage of him before. 

Napoleon Solo

Napoleon is Hermes, god of trade, thieves, travelers, and border crossings, guide to the Underworld. 

“Hermes was known to be quick and cunning and had the ability to freely move between the mortal and divine worlds. 

In some myths Hermes is also depicted as a trickster where he would outwit the gods either for the good of humankind or for his own personal amusement and satisfaction.

Both Homer and Hesiod portrayed Hermes as the author of skilled or deceptive acts, and also as a benefactor of mortals.”

This depicts Napoleon to a T. He played both sides to his benefit, and often “went against the man” if it benefited the greater good or if it amused him.

Captain Syverson

Captain Syverson is Zeus, god of law, order, and justice.

“Hesiod described Zeus as a god who “brought peace in place of violence” and referred to him as the “lord of justice”.”

There are many different character traits of Zeus that Syverson embodies: hospitality, willingness to avenge wrong, keeper of oaths, and he struck terror in his enemies. 

“According to “Work and Days” by Hesiod (line 59), Zeus was a carefree god who loved to laugh out loud. He was regarded as wise, fair, just, merciful, and prudent. He was also unpredictable – nobody was able to guess the decisions he would make.”

This also seems to me like Syverson. Although we don’t see him laugh much in the film, we do get a snippet of that smile when he greets Mahmoud.

“He is often described as a strong, imposing man with a regal body and long, often curly, hair. He usually had a short beard or scruff and carried his trusty thunderbolt at all times.”

Syverson is all of this except the long curly hair. His thunderbolt is the Beretta 92FS he’s always got tucked into his belt.

August Walker

August is Hades, god of the underworld. 

“Hades was depicted as stern and unyielding, unmoved by prayer and sacrifice.

[He] had a cap or helmet that made its wearer invisible.

His wife was Persephone, Demeter’s only daughter, whom he kidnapped and made his queen.”

August’s mission is his manifesto. He is unyielding in that sense; he will do whatever it takes to accomplish that goal, unmoved by the opinions and pleading of others. He worked for the CIA and they had no idea of his true intent, which makes him pretty invisible, and he would absolutely kidnap a woman to make her his bride (Trapped, anyone????). Although I think he would make her fall in love with him first.

Walter Marshall

Walter is the Hypnos, the god of sleep. Again, seems like an unusual choice, but hear me out. 

“Hypnos is said to be a calm and gentle god who helps mortal humans in their time of need.”

This is Walter. He is a gentle giant, who aids people when they need help the most. This is his job, this is his life. Hypnos lived in the underworld, in a cave that received no sunlight or moonlight. Walter lives his life in a similar darkness, his mind engulfed in the horrors of his job. Hypnos’s cave was surrounded by poppies and other plants that produce sleep, which explains why Walter always looks so tired. *cue laughing emoji*

Geralt of Rivia

I see Geralt as Heracles (Hercules). He did not choose the life he was given, but he used it for the good of people. 

“Heracles was known for his extraordinary strength, courage and cleverness. When his brawn would not suffice, he would call upon his wits...”

Hercules also had his Twelve Labors, which I equate to Geralt running around slaying monsters. Hercules often acted impulsively, and though done out of love, it would get him into trouble. Geralt does this too, though he would never admit it. His love for Jaskier, Yen, and Ciri gets him into heaps of scraps and trouble, which he is then often forced to serve his way out of. 

Thanks for this ask, @wondersofdreaming! Sorry it took me so long; it was a bit of a research project and I felt like I was in school again! 

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[owakoblack-portspa]

(Prumano, Spamano Fanfiction) My Last Romano

Disclaimer: this is Hetalia fanfiction. I do not own the characters.

Pairing: Prussia/ South Italy, Spain/ South Italy

Summary:  The time is 1718, during the War of the Spanish Succession. Lovino (South Italy) lives at Anotonio's (Spain) house, but his heart belongs to Gilbert (Prussia).

My Last Romano

 ‘Hola, Gilbert, my dear friend, what brings you here?’ Antonio smiled, sitting on a scarlet divan embroidered with golden flowers, a crimson uniform coat hanging loosely on his shoulders.

 ‘I heard that you were injured in a battle with England. As one of your best friends, I feel fully obliged to pay you a visit.’ Gilbert sank luxuriously into a sofa, stretching both of his arms along the top of the backrest.

 ‘Injured? Me?’ Antonio glanced at his left arm hidden under his uniform, which was heavily bandaged, and then resumed his smile, ‘do you mean this? It was a piece of cake. Never mind me. By the way, there’s a button missing in the front of your coat, have you noticed?’

 ‘What?’ Gilbert looked down to examine his ‘the more stitched the more battered’ coat, only to find out that what Antonio told him was true. ‘How about this?’ he unbuttoned all the buttons in one breath, ‘it’s not that conspicuous now!’

 ‘Bravo! It’s as if there were no button left at all! But then how can your coat withstand wind with all the holes in it? Don’t you feel cold?’

 ‘Never. I am a soldier, no coldness could defeat me, kesesesese!’ Gilbert drummed his own chest smugly.

 At this moment, the heavy gilded door of the magnificent Baroque drawing-room opened, and Lovino entered with an exquisite tea set in his hands. ‘Don’t tell me you’re so busy that you’ve no time to put on clothes properly, you Teutonic asshole.’ Pouting petulantly, he laid down a teacup in front of Gilbert, and turned around to lay another teacup for Antonio who was sitting opposite. ‘Stupid Tonio, if it were not that you had been beaten by the Englishman, and Laura had been gone, I would never have made tea for you of all things, vafanculo!’

 ‘Gracias, Romano mio is always so good to your Hermano Mayor!’ Antonio smiled from ear to ear.

 ‘You are always good to each other!’ Gilbert said enviously.

 A trace of discomfort appeared on Lovino’s young face. With or without purpose, he poured hot tea onto Gilbert’s clothes, leaving instantly an ugly brown stain on it. ‘Dammit!’

 ‘Oh no, Gilbert’s crap clothes is now totally damaged!’ Antonio said matter-of-factly, his emerald eyes simply wide-opened.

 ‘I don’t think a tiny water stain can damage my clothes! Don’t you think so, Fratello?’ Gilbert grinned at Lovino, who lowered down his little dark brown head listlessly.

 ‘Don’t worry! It’s totally fine with me!’ Gilbert tried to comfort the young boy with words.

 After a moment of silence, Lovino continued, ‘I happen to have some trash clothes that might suit you…’ He left the drawing-room, and then returned with a huge uniform coat which was obviously too large for himself.

 ‘Here you are. My work of failure might be unsightly, but it’s a million times better than your damn beggar’s clothes!’ Lovino threw the handmade coat to Gilbert.

 ‘Danke sehr, Fratello!’ Gilbert caught the coat with every bit of gratitude.

 ‘Romano, did you use our curtains to make this?’ Antonio was surprised.

 ‘No way!’ Lovino retorted.

 ‘You should have told your Hermano Mayor earlier, for I can give you money to buy as many clothes as you want! But I’m afraid curtain cloth is not fit for a uniform?’

 ‘Don’t you dare criticize my work, Tonio you idiot!’ Lovino stuck out his tongue.

 ‘I think it’s a piece of good work. I’ll put it on when I get home, kesesesese!’ It could not be too careful for Gilbert to fold up the uniform coat and put it into a sack.

 At night, after Gilbert had gone home, Antonio suddenly dragged Lovino into his own bedroom, closing the door with a loud bang.

 ‘You hurt me, dumb Tonio!’ Lovino said angrily, nursing the red imprint on his delicate wrist caused by the tight grip of the much stronger man.

 ‘What did you just say, my Romano?’ Antonio put on his wonted gentle smile, rolling up his sleeves while advancing slowly towards Lovino, whom was leaning to a gilded florid wall.

 ‘Don’t you get any closer to me, damn you!’ the young boy kept on moving and moving backward until he found himself caught up into a corner, and until the tall man’s long, dark shadow projected on the seemingly thirteen-year-old thin body.

 ‘What did you say? Big Brother didn’t hear you.’ Without any warning, Antonio slapped Lovino heavily in the face, causing the boy to fall down onto the floor.

 There was a burning pain in Lovino’s cheek, and a feat of dizziness came immediately over his head. ‘I said, you hurt me, God damn you, Antonio!’ He had no remaining strength to raise himself up and fight back the tyrant, but could only demonstrate his revolt by roaring—not without tears on his face which were the shameful result from irresistible pain and fear. His little body was trembling as uncontrollably as a thirteen-year-old boy could do.

 ‘Ay, why are you crying? My cute Romano,’ Antonio crouched down, and pretended to wipe tears away from Lovino’s pink, delicate face, only to leave obscure fingerprints on the tender skin, ‘do you know why I slapped you, Romano?’

 ‘Because you are a jealous bastard.’

 ‘It seems I shall teach you a lesson today, Romano. How dare you steal my money to buy cloth for Gilbert’s new uniform?’

 ‘Didn’t you say it was made of curtain cloth?’

 ‘Must I let him know how much heart and soul you’ve put into this uniform? To make him smug beyond himself? I give you a shelter from storm, make you lead a comfortable life without worrying food or clothing, and this is what you give me in return? If it had not been me, you would have been torn up in pieces by those great powers! You would never have a chance to stand against me!’

 ‘I don’t think my life has been any better. I should have submitted to France, instead of you!’

 ‘When half of your territory was conceded, your body was reduced to half of the size too, and France was not half interested in you any more! Of course, I am not a pedophilia either, so I have to wait patiently until you grow up again…but lo,’ the Spaniard held up the weeping Lovino’s pretty chin, and squeezed it with deliberate force, ‘you’re getting more and more beautiful! I could have waited for a longer time before the fruit is totally ripe, but perhaps a bitter sweet taste is not as bad?’

 ‘Don’t touch me, you’re absolutely a pedophilia, cazzo!’ Lovino spit at his suzerain.

 ‘Joder, chingate, Romano!’ Antonio seized Lovino, turned him around, and peeled off the boy’s girdle to tie his slim hands up.

 ‘Release me, you bastard!’ Lovino cried out with terror at the top of his voice, but nobody could help him in the depth of the night and in the depth of a prison—he had been Antonio’s prisoner for centuries.

 ‘Release you? to what degree? ah…let me see if you really are a wanton puto like they said in 1282.’

 The mentioning of the event made Lovino shudder. It had been his nightmare and the reason why he was unable to be with his faithful knight any more–he was no longer pure, no longer his Holy Virgin.

 ‘You still care about him?’ It was always easy for the Spaniard to read the South Italian’s mind, ‘fine, I will fuck you up and mar you until you’ll never think about seeing him ever again, ever.’ He brought from a cabinet a crop to the wincing and whimpering Italian boy, and stripped off the white gauze shirt to reveal the youth’s badly bruised back.

 On the second day, Gilbert put on the brand-new Prussian-blue uniform he had received from Lovino, and strutted all along the way to the magnificent Palacio Real.

 On the walls of the second floor above the grand hall, there were dozens of huge paintings, almost all of them painted by famous artists, except one painting, which was placed between Caravaggio’s John the Baptist and a mahogany window, and this painting caught Gilbert’s attention:

 In the picture was a youth with stunning beauty. He was barely thirteen of age, his short charcoal hair shiny and curly, his huge lime green eyes bright and innocent, and his rosy cheeks slightly puffed up—his expression was so adorable that even the meanest man in the world could not resist from giving him a caress. Beneath his exquisite reedlike neck was a chartreuse embroidered frock coat, which met the colour of the young boy’s eyes; and the dainty buttons were made of sapphires. It seemed as if only a prosperous, loving family could have brought up such an elegant, unstained angel.

 As Gilbert was completely lost in this portrait, Antonio emerged without a sound from his behind.

 ‘Isn’t it marvellous? This painting is entitled My Last Romano.’

 ‘Last?’ Gilbert asked, surprised.

 ‘Exactly. There used to be Tim’s and Laura’s portraits hanging over there,’ Antonio pointed to the empty wall on the other side of the window, ‘but after they have moved out, Romano becomes my sole companion.’

 ‘Natürlich, natürlich.’

 ‘I will never let anyone else have him, because I love him.’ The Spaniard smiled brightly, and drew down the curtains to conceal Lovino’s portrait from the dazzling sunlight outside.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Out Of The Way (Part 2)

Summary: When the reader’s boyfriend ditches her on the side of the road, she ends up at an out of the way bar and roadhouse where the man behind the counter makes her an interesting offer…

Part 1

Pairing: Bartender!Dean x au!reader

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language, slight angst

_______

“Your new bartender makes a mean manhattan,” said some guy at the bar. You were wiping down a table after a few guys had left, Dean chuckling from behind the counter.

“You just think she’s got a cuter face than mine, Jim,” said Dean. 

“It’s good you got some help. You could use another pair of hands,” said Jim. You felt his gaze on you as you bent down to pick up a coaster.

“Hey,” said Dean. “This ain’t Hollow’s Point. You want that kind of service-”

“I’m just looking,” he said.

“Keep it at just looking or she’ll kick you ass,” said Dean. You smirked as you carried back the empty bottles to the kitchen area and washed them out, setting them in the recycle bin. You hummed as you walked back out front with a bottle of Jack, Dean just setting the empty one in his hand down on the bottom shelf. “Reading my mind there.”

“You worked in bars before, sweetheart?” asked Jim.

“Done a lot of things, sweetheart,” you said, spotting a hand wave from a corner table. “Excuse me.”

“I should have hired you sooner,” chuckled Dean from his office after closing as you set the cleaning supplies back in the closet there. “We got a lot more tips this week. A lot.”

“Drunk men like to look at women. Some things never change,” you said. Dean nodded and took an envelope out from a drawer in his desk. He held it out and you grabbed it. You peeked inside and looked up. “This is more than we agreed to.”

“Well it ain’t like you’re paying taxes on it. You’re good. Clean, serve, keep everyone happy. You keep tabs on inventory. You earned it,” he said. “And here is your half of the tips.”

“I can’t take half,” you said as he set half the wad of cash down in front of you.

“We pool tips here and once again, these boys aren’t tipping to look at my pretty face all night long,” he said. You grabbed the money and shoved it in the envelope, tucking it in your back pocket. “I’m heading into Southbend in the morning if you want to stop into town and pick anything up.”

“I’m okay,” you said, turning out of his office. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Morning,” said Dean as he carried in a few grocery bags.

“Morning,” you said, eating some toast at the bartop.

“You ever eat anything aside from toast and eggs?” he asked, setting the bags down.

“It’s cheap,” you said, taking another bite.

“Yeah well, happy birthday,” he said, pulling out a pink box and setting it on the bartop. You flipped it open and saw a cupcake inside. “It is your birthday today, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t celebrated my birthday in years,” you said, staring at the thing.

“Well, celebrate it. Feel free to store some actual food in the kitchen too,” he said, grabbing his bags. 

“Hey, Dean?” you said when he got to the stairs to go up to his apartment. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” he said with a smile.

Fifteen minutes later he was downstairs, watching you sweep up the floor. He popped behind the bar and sat up on the counter, giving you a smile.

“It’s Sunday. Let’s do something fun,” he said. 

“Fun?” you said, tucking the broom back in the corner.

“We aren’t allowed to sell alcohol on Sunday’s around here. It’s our day off. Either we can hang around here and make this place even cleaner than it already is, or we can go have some fun,” he said.

“I prefer to keep a low profile,” you said.

“Come on. I got a perfect idea.”

“You like fishing?” he asked as you sat on the end of a quiet dock.

“I haven’t been since I was little,” you said. “You?”

“Yeah. I like fishing,” he said. It was quiet a few minutes aside from him reeling every so often. “I used to go a lot with my dad and brother.”

“How long have you been pretending?” you asked.

“Five years, like you,” he said. “Too late to say I’m innocent now.”

“Yeah. I get that,” you said.

“The guy, he was your boyfriend right?” asked Dean.

“Yeah. He cheated on me with this married woman. It was her husband that did it. I know it was. But she vouched for him and gave him an alibi,” you said.

“You didn’t have one so you got the short end of it,” he said.

“My DNA was all over the apartment. It was our kitchen knife so my fingerprints were on it. I was fucked,” you said.

“Did you forgive him?” he asked.

“For the cheating, no. I didn’t wish him dead though. He didn’t deserve that,” you said.

“You’re a good person,” said Dean. You reeled in your line and set it beside you, Dean giving you a smile. “For a fugitive.”

“What about you? No alibi either?” you asked.

“I was set up by a crooked cop,” he said. “He killed a guy he was having a problem with and tried to pin it on me. This cop was selling confiscated drugs. He put the blame on me for the whole deal.”

“Why?”

“Because I was his rookie partner,” he said. You swallowed, Dean staring at you. “I ain’t been a cop in a long time. Good guys, bad guys. They’re both on both sides of the line. It don’t matter.”

“So you ran,” you said.

“Yup. Ran when my brother told me they had an airtight case. I was away for life in a shithole and as an ex-cop I’d be lucky to survive a week in a place like that. So we called our family friend and I ran to one of his hunting cabins. I hid there for awhile until he told me about a roadhouse bar he’d purchased, out in nowhere. I dyed my hair black and moved here. It’s a safe place,” he said.

“Life sucks sometimes,” you said.

“Yup,” he said. “I haven’t had an honest conversation in years. I had to cut off all ties to everyone. I’m sure you get that.”

“Yeah, I do,” you said. “If you were still a cop, would you have believed me?”

“I think so,” he said. “Gut feeling.”

“Thanks for the cupcake,” you said.

“You get me one for my birthday and we’re even,” he said. “January 24th.”

“Alright. Deal.”

Three Months Later

“Curly fries and whiskey straight,” you said, setting the items down in front of the older man at the bar, turning to the man with him. “Roadhouse nachos and tequila. You boys enjoy.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” said the first man, staring at you. You tilted your head, the other man standing up and pushing back his jacket, letting you see the Marshall’s badge on his hip. “We ain’t even working your case. Just heading home from another one when we see one of the runners serving us our drink.”

“Is there a problem here, fellas?” asked Dean as he walked over, throwing his arm over your shoulder.

“You regularly employee fugitives?” asked the one who was standing. Dean stared at him and burst out laughing. “Something funny about that boy?”

“Hallie? A criminal?” asked Dean. He looked at you and started to giggle. “This girl couldn’t even disect a frog in high school.”

“That ain’t no Hallie. It’s-”

“Uh, I think I know my best friend from school, buddy,” said Dean, narrowing his eyes. “The better question is what the hell are two cops doing trying to scare my girlfriend into leaving with them.”

“Hey. We weren’t-”

“Any fellas that try to force my girl to go with them ain’t welcome here,” said Dean.

“Listen kid-”

“Her name is Hallie,” said Dean. “I don’t know who the fuck Y/N is but I hope you two sickos don’t find her.”

“Where’s her liquor license to be serving?” asked the first one. Dean went to the wall behind the bar and grabbed a little picture frame off the shelf, shoving it on the counter.

There was a picture of you, Hallie Stormer, with a Tennessee certification.

The men looked at one another as you stood behind Dean.

“Well?” said Dean.

“Apologies. Ms. Stormer here looks an awful lot like one of our fugitives is all,” said the man. He pulled out his phone and showed over an old picture of you, Dean raising an eyebrow at it.

“Uh, not to tell you how to do your job but that don’t look like Hallie. At all. She ain’t even got the same color eyes,” said Dean. The men quickly looked at the picture and then you.

“He’s right about the eyes,” mumbled the one.

“Shit,” said the other one. 

“Now you two can apologize to my girlfriend and get out,” said Dean.

“Sorry miss,” they said before they slapped some money and left. You sighed and tucked the food back behind the counter, Jim watching from down the bar.

“We got a problem, Jim?” asked Dean.

“Nope,” he said. Dean gave him the free food and drinks, Jim watching as you leaned back against the counter. 

“You thought the colored contacts were dumb,” mumbled Dean.

“Is Jim gonna be a problem? He knows I’m Y/N,” you said.

“Take my car and head up to one of those hunting cabins for a few days. Lay low for awhile,” he said.

“Be careful,” you said, getting a kiss from him.

“You too, sweetheart.”

Three Days Later

“Morning,” said the minimart owner as he rang up your items. “On vacation?”

“Yeah, taking a few days to enjoy nature, get away from city life,” you said with a smile.

“That’s good. We don’t get too many young folks up here doing that sort of thing anymore,” he said. You hummed and looked at the TV in the corner, doing your best to hide your surprise when you saw Dean’s face on the screen. “Oh, you haven’t heard about that yet? Not surprising, not much cell reception up here. That boy is that killer cop they never caught from a few years back.”

“How’d they catch him?” you asked.

“Some bar or something. Some guy caught him lying or something,” he said as he handed over your change. 

“Thanks,” you said, taking your things and rushing out of there. You tossed them in the passenger seat and drove until even you didn’t know where you were. Until an idea crossed your mind that was.

“Y/N?” said Dean the next day. You smiled as he was led out of the police station, giving you a hug. “How...they said my charges were dropped.”

“The other cop confessed,” you said, a pair of officers nearby standing up. “I can be convincing...also I pointed the police in the way of his bank account and it was pretty obvious from there.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, the officers flanking either side of you. “No such luck.”

“Y/N-”

“Hey. It was my fault they found you. I’m paying it forward. You can go home, be normal now,” you said.

“She didn’t do it,” said Dean to the officers.

“It’s alright,” you said as one put a hand on your arm to lead you in the back. “I’ll be okay, Dean.”

“Y/L/N,” said a guard a few hours later. You stood up from your bench, the door sliding open. You walked out and followed the officer, spotting a guy you didn’t recognize standing in the hall.

“You must be, Y/N. Sam Winchester,” he said. He held out his hand and you shook it.

“I thought your brother was tall,” you said, Sam smiling. “Let me guess. He put you up to this.”

“Ever hear of something called the Innocence Project?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s where lawyers work pro bono for people that were wrongly convicted,” you said.

“Well, I called up a friend of mine in the DA’s office and presented my case file from college. There’s a glaring bit of lack of DNA testing on samples that does not look good for that local department. He’s willing to let you out on bond in the meantime, with supervision,” he said. 

“What’s that mean?” you asked as he waved you to follow.

“It means you’re sharing my guest room with my brother for the foreseeable future but something tells me you won’t have a problem with that.”

“This thing itches,” you said, scratching at your ankle that night as Dean set down a box of pizza in front of you. “Thanks for busting me out.”

“Anytime,” he said, Sam walking in through the front door looking very tired. “How’s it going?”

“The wife and husband from Y/N’s case are going through a nasty divorce right now. I’m going to call tomorrow, see if she’ll flip on him for immunity. That along with DNA evidence should get you in the clear. You might even get a small settlement,” said Sam.

“I really hope so. I don’t think I’ll do well in prison,” you said.

“It’ll be alright,” said Dean as he took a seat and rubbed your arm. “We’ll get through it. We always do.”

One Month Later

“Alright,” said Marshall Bradshaw. “Your 100 hours of community service are up kid.”

“I didn’t even break a law,” you said, peeling off your orange vest and chucking it in the back of his truck.

“You kind of did with the whole evading the police thing,” he chuckled. “You’re lucky that judge liked you. He could have sentenced you for running off.”

“I don’t get a record for all this?” you asked.

“Still no record. Come on, I’m sure you want to get back to that boyfriend of yours,” he said.

Two hours later you were dropped off and gave the Marshall a wave, popping into the roadhouse bar to have Dean come over and give you a hug.

“All done,” you said. “I can come home now.”

“You know, now that I actually have access to my bank account again, that family friend offered to sell me this place if I wanted to run it,” he said.

“I have one condition,” you said. 

“Anything. It’s our bar,” he said.

“I want to hire a chef, have it be a restaurant too. Trust me, this is the only joint for miles and we could make a killing serving something besides bar food,” you said.

“You really want to run a bar with me?” he asked.

“Us criminals have to stick together,” you giggled.

“Yes, we do,” said Dean, watching a pair of Marshall’s walk in the door. “Gentlemen.”

“Hallie,” said one with a smirk. “We get those drinks this time around?”

“On the house,” said Dean as he took off.

“Hey,” said the other one as he waved you over. “The eyes thing, how’d you pull that off?”

“Colored contact lenses,” you said. “Not cheap but effective.”

“We’re gonna have to remember that one,” he said.

“I’ll get you guys some food too,” you said. You headed back for the kitchen, Dean whistling as he was pulling a fresh tray of ice from the freezer. “Think we could make something of this place?”

“I’m game if you are,” he said. “We could always runaway again.”

“Nah. I’m done running. This was the first place that felt like home in a long time. I want to stay.”

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

______

[alcalavicci]

1988 interview with Dean. This is a really good one and helps bring more of his life into perspective. Note: the newspaper originally censored his swearing, but I’ve put it back.

Guthman, Edward. "Dean Stockwell: Third Time's a Charm." The San Francisco Examiner (San Francisco, California), August 14, 1988.

“Six years ago, Dean Stockwell's acting career had turned to dust. Reduced to playing parts in unreleasable, made-in-Mexico movies that now make him cringe, Stockwell decided to chuck it all and get out of Hollywood.

“Along with his second wife, Joy, Stockwell moved to Santa Fe, settled down under the wide New Mexico sky and applied for a real estate license. He even placed an ad in Daily Variety to announce his exile: 'Dean Stockwell will help you with all your real estate needs in the new center of creative energy.'

“Stockwell never sold a house; he didn't need to. Instead, almost as soon as he'd relocated, things started happening to the former 1940s child star. It began with a small part in David Lynch's 'Dune,' and escalated with an important supporting role in Wim Wenders' highly regarded 'Paris, Texas.'

“Moving back to California to cash in on his fortune, Stockwell acted in 'Beverly Hills Cop II,' 'Gardens of Stone,' and 'To Live and Die in L.A.' He also played a cameo role, as Howard Hughes, in the newly released 'Tucker: The Man and His Dream.' And in 'Blue Velvet,' David Lynch's American nightmare, he delivered a chilling cameo as Ben, a waxlike, sexually ambiguous drug dealer.

“And now, at 52, Stockwell says he's found 'the favorite role I've had, by far.'

“The picture is 'Married to the Mob,' a dark, romantic comedy by Jonathan Demme ('Melvin and Howard,' 'Stop Making Sense') and Stockwell plays Mafia don Tony 'the Tiger' Russo. Wearing an Al Capone fedora and full-length vicuna coat, Tony is a rich, sardonic, larger-than-life character -- the kind Stockwell has never had a chance to play until now.

“Opening Friday at the Galaxy and UA the Movies, 'Married to the Mob' has been touted as Demme's first shot at a genuine box-office winner. Set in Long Island, New Jersey and Florida, it stars Michelle Pfeiffer as Angela DeMarco, a young Mafia wife who tries to start a new life when her husband, Frankie 'the Cucumber' DeMarco, is pumped full of lead during a hot-tub tryst at the Fantasia Motel.

“When Stockwell's character isn't ordering hits, drug deals and the dumping of toxic waste, he's lusting assiduously after the gorgeous widow. Meanwhile, bumbling FBI agent Mike Downey (played by Matthew Modine) is jumping through hoops trying to shadow Angela and 'catch Tony with his pants down.' Instead, he falls in love with Angela.

“During a recent luncheon interview, not far from his central California home, Stockwell spoke about the film, about his new happiness as the father of two children and about the bizarre trajectory of his long career. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and slacks, wearing a Panama hat and drawing first on a cigaret, later on a cigar, Stockwell emanates prosperity and calm.

“'I don't know why I was unemployed so long,' he says, reflecting on a fallow period that started in the '60s and lasted the better part of two decades. 'The only thing I can figure out in my own mind is that, for some reason or another, I was being made to wait until a certain time in my life when my talent would reach its full maturity and fruition.'

“Ironically, he says, he felt just as equipped 10 years ago to do the work he's doing now -- 'only I couldn't get fucking arrested.'

“Today, Stockwell sees harmony in the fact that his new success coincides with the arrival of two children. His son, Austin, will be 5 in November, and his daughter, Sophia, turns 3 this month. Inordinately proud and protective, he refuses to allow his children to be photographed, and also requests that the town in which he and his family reside not be named. (There were no children from his first marriage, to Millie Perkins, which lasted from 1960 to 1962.)

“'I want to make a lot of money and I want to put it away for my children,' he says. To that end, Stockwell has been snapping up job offers. 'A lot of people ask me, "How have you been able to choose these wonderful things you're doing? Have you been very selective?" And I have to tell them, "I haven't been choosing what I'm doing." Things have been coming and I've been accepting virtually anything that's come.'

“Stockwell's ambition is so great that, for the first time in his life, he actively pursues aspects of his career that he once shunned- interviews, for example.

“'My entire motivation in life is my family,' he says. 'I don't need to get an award. I don't need recognition. I've had that already. What I need is to provide. The best way I can provide is to be successful, and the best way I can be successful is to take advantage of all the things at my disposal to achieve that, one of which certainly is press.'

“Take a look at the young Stockwell, specifically the version that emerges from old magazine and newspaper interviews, and you meet another person altogether.

“Robbed of a normal childhood, Stockwell had made 22 films by the time he was 15 -- including 'The Boy with Green Hair,' 'Kim,' 'Anchors Aweigh,' and the Oscar-winning 'Gentleman's Agreement.' Working nonstop, he had a privileged life that millions of children probably envied, but he loathed it nonetheless.

“The son of show-business parents -- his father, Harry Stockwell, was the voice of the Prince in 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,' and his mother, Betty Veronica, was a former stage dancer -- Stockwell made his professional debut at 7. It all happened by a fluke: when Stockwell accompanied his older brother, Guy, on a Broadway audition, the casting director took a liking to both boys, and cast each one. The play, aptly enough, was called 'Innocent Voyage,' and it led to an MGM contract for curly-haired Dean.

“From the beginning, the pressure on young Stockwell was intense. His parents had divorced when he was 6, and when his father defaulted on child-support payments, Dean reluctantly became the family provider. Over a six-year period, he averaged three to four films per year.

“At home, he says, 'There was a lot of friction... I was getting all the attention, but I hated it. [Guy] couldn't appreciate that, because he wasn't getting the attention. He had all these friends, his peer group, that he took for granted. I had none and I resented him for being able to live that way. I was fucking lonely.'

“When he was 13, chained to a seven-year contract, Stockwell was described by one magazine as 'a young rebel who despises acting and resents every moment it takes from his fleeting boyhood.' Many years later, Stockwell told columnist Hedda Hopper, 'Child actors exist in a sort of limbo between childhood and maturity and belong to neither. Adults take them too seriously and other children are either awed or hostile. A child actor can find friends in neither group.'

“Finally, Stockwell fled Hollywood when he was 16. He cut off his curly locks, started using his real name, Robert Stockwell, and for the next five years roamed the country, working menial jobs and disavowing his true identity. 'People that might have known me from seeing my films knew me as a young child,' he remembers. 'Now I was 17 and I wasn't that recognizable.'

“Around the time of his 21st birthday, Stockwell was pushing papers as mail boy to a Manhattan plumbing firm. 'Of all the jobs that I'd had in those intervening years,' he remembers. 'I think I hated that worse than anything. I came to the realization I had no training at anything. My primary education was very skimpy, very poor, and happened under the worst type of conditions. I was literally at the mercy of the world.'

“Most of Stockwell's childhood earnings were squandered by crooked accountants, he says, and he knew that the tiny sum being held in a trust wouldn't last forever. 'So I thought, "What am I gonna do? Well, let's go back and attack this [acting career] again, and see if I can do it a little more on my terms."'

“What followed for Stockwell was a brief but impressive 'second career.' He starred in the 1959 film 'Compulsion,' based on the Leopold-Loeb case of the '20s, and won a joint acting award with Orson Welles and Bradford Dillman at the Cannes Film Festival. He played the lead in the 1960 film of D. H. Lawrence's 'Sons and Lovers,' and in 1962 scored the plum role of Edmund Tyrone in Sidney Lumet's film version of 'Long Day's Journey Into Night,' holding his own alongside Katharine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson and Jason Robards.

“Stockwell was winning the best parts, but found his attention drifting elsewhere. What was happening, he says, were the first signs of the '60s youth revolution. 'It captured my imagination as much as anybody's. And it represented to me -- I can see this in retrospect -- something in childhood that I had missed: the freedom and loving being alive, without responsibilities and work and having to report to the studio every day, and deal with fans and interviews and shit that I hated when I was a kid.'

“So Stockwell called his agent, said, 'I'm not workin',' and dropped out once again. When he tried to come back three years later, though, 'I found it very difficult, 'cause I'd been out-of-sight, out-of-mind.' What followed was a long period of marginal employment: He found some TV work, took parts in low-budget trash ('The Dunwich Horror') and occasional oddities (Dennis Hopper's 'The Last Movie') and co-directed a film with musician Neil Young ('Human Highway') but often just didn't work at all. At one point, he went 18 months without a job.

“Today, along with his buddy Hopper, Stockwell is enjoying a major career renaissance. And with his starring role in 'Married to the Mob,' he says, he's never felt more confident.

“'I knew before I started the film that this character was going to work in spades,' he says, adding that Demme, as director, deserves credit for taking a risk with such offbeat casting. Instead of picking Peter Falk, Vincent Gardenia or another ethnically identified actor to play the Mafia don, he went with Stockwell (who is actually half-Italian on his mother's side).

“Demme's inspiration occurred on a flight from Los Angeles to New York, when he opened a copy of the Hollywood Reporter. Stockwell had just changed agents, and in order to announce the fact, had taken out a full-page ad. Demme saw the picture, and instantly recognized his Tony.

“Weirdly enough, Stockwell made another film immediately prior to 'Married to the Mob': a Canadian feature called 'Palais Royale,' due for an October release, in which he plays a character almost identical to Tony Russo.

“'It's very curious,' he says. 'For all my years I'd never had a role like this come my way, and here it was twice. The Mafia don in New York, the Mafia don in Toronto, both of them colorful and charming and also threatening. And I just thought, "What am I gonna do? It's the same character." So I decided to do the same character in both those movies.'

“To take the coincidence 'one nauseating step further,' Stockwell says he's also got a part in the recently completed 'Backtrack,' Hopper's next film. This time he plays a corrupt mob lawyer, dropping the Italian accent for a generalized East Coast sound.

“It would be difficult to find a film actor who's busier than Stockwell at this moment. And it would be difficult to find anyone whose job history better illustrates the vicissitudes, serendipities and insecurity of a Hollywood career.

“Looking back on his misfortunes -- at the career that he was forced to accept as a child, and the humiliation he felt when he couldn't maintain it as an adult -- Stockwell says he's not bitter. 'When you reach your maturity, I think it behooves you to accept the fact that it's absolutely futile and fruitless even to speculate on changing anything in your life. All you can do is get embittered. So I accept everything that's happened as part of my life, and try to push it in a positive direction from the moment right now.'”

[twohearts-hs]

‘Two Can Play That Game’ - Harry Styles Imagine

Words: 5.8k

Pairing: Gang Leader!Reader x Gang Member!Harry

Warnings: Swearing, death, smut

Summary: She rules a deadly gang, he has a price on his head. He works for the enemy, she is the enemy. What happens when Harry begins working for Y/N when really he is working with her rival.

|| Masterlist in bio }}

-

He caught her eyes the moment he entered the room. The way he presented himself, dark suit and little curls. She was in awe. His eyes held a mystery to them as she made contact with his. There was something about him that she was intoxicated with, possibly his heavy cologne, the lust in his eyes or the muscles that were hidden under his shirt. She was infatuated with him at that very moment. 

The mysterious man shook hands with her father. A smirk plaster on his face as he nodded towards the stranger. Y/N watched, standing next to him; she knew the mob was a messy job and she hates that she was brought up in it. Yet, here she was about to take the reign from her father.

“Mr Styles, this is my daughter Y/N, she just took over, so please get comfortable,” the older man told me, “Mr Styles will be our new right-handed man since you know what happened, darling,” he winked at her. She smiled but felt the deep shiver in her body from what happened to the last man.

Her father walked away, heading to his office as she stood in the living room with this new stranger.

“Call me Harry,” he said, taking the whiskey cup he was offered and sitting on the couch. She smiled.

“Call me Y/n then,” she replied, cocking a brow as one of the server handed her a glass of Merlot. “My father told me that you use to work with the FBI,” she began making conversation.

“Yes, I did. I didn’t enjoy following the rules, working for the government to look into people like us. I like the freedom than the constant breathing down my neck. With a job like this, I can do what I please,” he said, moving his hand from his side to sliding it on top of the couch. Y/N stayed still, keeping her movements clean and proper. 

“Fair enough,” she mumbled.

“Why is a lady taking over London’s most dangerous mob?” he asked.

“Why isn’t a lady taking over London’s most dangerous mob. Maybe unlike you, I have been raised in this world. I have seen people dying since I was born, saw blood from the moment I was conceived and I know pain before it was shown to me. I am lady, I am wealthy, yet most importantly, I am deadly. So please, Mr Styles do not offend me or else you won’t be calling your mother on Mother’s Day to apologise how anti-feminist you are,” she told him, looking him up and down as she got up from the white leather couch.

“Y/N,” Harry began, placing the glass down on the golden side table in the lavish, French traditional home to follow the beauty he now calls his boss. “I am sorry, I have been in this business for a while, therefore I was simply shocked, darling,” he said, grabbing into her arm to turn her around. 

Eyes meeting eyes as they locked. Of course, there was some sexual tension but both were too stubborn to recognise it.

“Don’t touch me,” she said sternly, raising her eyebrows to the curly-haired man.

“My apologies, madame,” he said. She was different, standing there with curled hair and a white dress; so odd for the mob. In his eyes, she was innocent, young and dumb...like Bambi. 

Y/N watched the man across from her, she pressed the glass to her plump glossed lips as she looked at the exotic creature. He was different, seen the dark world, mysterious, full of lust and just plain intoxicating.

“How much has my father told you about my mob?” she asked, keeping the distance between them.

Harry, standing in the black Gucci suit, rings at home on his fingers and whiskey glass in hand began walking up to her. “Not much. I am just here to protect you,” he began, her feeling his breath from the closeness, “protect the mob, sell drugs,” his breath moved to over her ear. His lips were so close, and a shiver went through her body. “Kill some people on the way,” he backed up, a smirk on his lips, as he filled his glass.

“I am your boss,” she placed the glass down and grabbed the whiskey that was his. She walked away as he stared at her ass, and she sat on the leather couch. “You do what I say and you don’t question it,” she began as he leaned against the bar in front of her. “There’s a second mob on the other end of London, we don’t talk to them. We aren’t at peace but we aren’t at war, so don’t fuck up,” she states, raising her eyebrows at Harry.

“Got it,” he nodded towards Y/N. 

“No, I am not done, Styles,” she stated, “No funny business with anyone on the team, that makes things extremely awkward for you. Nobody is allowed to talk to me unless I direct them to. You are to give me messages, no one else. If I want something, you get me something. If I ask you to do something, you better fucking do it,” she says. “Finally, mi casa es su casa, Harry, make yourself at home.”

Then she just walked out.

-

She was a stunner. He knew it and she knew it. The way she acts, she knows affects every person in the room either gender. Y/N was sex on wheels. Harry had a job to do and he was bloody good at his job. He had never let feelings get in the way before, therefore this would be easy. 

“Y/N, the Fester’s are here,” Harry said, entering her office. It has been a few weeks since their initial meeting. He went to Spain for a few days, she went to New York, therefore it has been a while since they saw each other.

“Thank you, Harry,” her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail as she walked out with a feminine suit on.

“What’s the deal with the Fester’s?” he asked, as they walked down the hall to the dining room.

“Christian!” she smiles, walking in to see a tall, broad, blonde man. The two of them hugged one another and placed kisses on each other’s cheeks. Harry watched with a frown on his face. 

“Harry, this is Christian. He is my arms man, my assassin,” she said with no hint of remorse in her voice. “Christian, this is Harry, my second man.”

Harry nodded towards the blonde with multiple tattoos, yet he ignored him the whole time. The two were friends, he noticed. Yet, he hated the way the Italian touched Y/N like that, the gentle touches on her arm or the chuckle that escaped from her lip from a stupid joke he made. Harry just watched from the corner.

“I have someone you need to deal with,” she began, “remember Luke? Luke Harrison?” “Didn’t you fuck him?” he asked. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“He is a Harrison, I had to get information from someone and touching him made it happen. Anyway, he placed his nose somewhere he shouldn’t and I need him gone.”

“He is a Harrison, Y/N, you are gonna start a war,” Christian said.

“Kill him. He found out the route of my sales to America. I need him dead and once doing so, thirty million will show up in your bank account.”

Then she walked out. 

“Harrisons?” Harry said catching up to her.

“The Southside mob, Harry. Keep up, you should know this stuff,” she said, walking towards the black car outside. 

Y/N got into the black Range Rover, closing the door as Harry spoke, “Where are you going?”

“To deal with some business. We have a snitch, Harry, and I, of course, have to clean up after those idiots like their mother. I’ll see you when I get back.”

-

Harry rode up to the mansion he was very familiar with after all these years working with the Harrison’s. His motorcycle stopped in front of the golden doors to the London bound home. He knew he shouldn’t do this to her, but it was his job. He worked with the Harrisons, and he has for a while.

His ringed hand pushed open the big wooden door to the grand foyer, dark, dirty, mysterious, unlike her. Two sides - so different - he learnt. Y/N was an angel, or so he thought; dressed in white, a charming smile, bright home, yet Caleb Harrison was the opposite.

“Harry!” a booming voice came from the stairwell and a broad, muscular man emerged...Caleb.

Caleb Harrison was a twenty-eight-year-old mobster, his job was the oldest out of the town. His family has been doing this since time and law existed. Everyone had a hidden truth, both Y/N and Caleb do, Harry knew. He knew that once upon a time they lived in peace until Y/N did something, that thing Harry has yet to figure out due to the harsh whispers of even mentioning the beauty’s name.

“How is she?” he smirked, patting Harry on the back. Harry managed to get a smile out as he was handed a glass of whiskey. “My finest, aged twenty years, I only bring it out for celebration so tell me something good.”

“She,” he tried to say, “She is going to kill one of yours,” he managed to say. It was hard, he has never had this issue. He brought down multiple mobs before, whether female or male-led, but she, she was something in her eyes.

“Of course she is. The Devil always likes throwing a fit,” Caleb said, pushing back his dark hair. The Devil that name echoed in his brain, he never heard people call her that before.

“The Devil?”

“Born and raised by Hell itself,” he said, taking a sip from the glass, “Don’t be fooled by her looks, she always gets what she wants. That is why I put you on this case, you are just like her. Harry, you always get what you want. Yes, Y/n is a looker, her personality is out of the world and damn, that body will keep you moaning for ages, but she’ll ruin you in a snap of her manicured fingers,” Caleb said, moaning with the mention of her name.

“You love her,” Harry spat out, Caleb’s eyes widened.

“I did, but who doesn’t? I just need her brought down. Who is she going to kill?” he asked, sitting down at his desk. Harry leaned against the wall, looking out to the distance, red velvet couches, black wallpaper and a musty smell lingered. Her home was gorgeous, traditional, clean and French with a rose smell lingering. He preferred her home to his.

“Luke,” he muttered. Caleb let out an echoing laugh.

“Let her kill him. He is a drug addict, hasn’t done any good for me.”

“She screwed him,” Caleb shook his head and let a nasty smile grow.

“I thought you were smarter than this, Styles. That woman screws anything that walks as long as it benefits her.”

Harry let out a puff of air, “She is paying this man thirty million because she was believed he found out about her trade routes in America.”

He didn’t like Caleb, the self-righteous, narcissistic, self provoking asshole, but he made a contract all those years ago when he made a bad move with the government and he still has to pay it off. 

“I know about those trade routes because she told me five years ago as we fucked. She isn’t as smart as you think. Sometimes dancing with the devil gets you something, try it sometime, Harry,” he winked, getting up from the leather chair and patting him on the shoulder on the way out. “If you want to fuck her, go ahead. Just don’t tell her your dirty secrets. She’s fun though, enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll see you next week,” he said, walking out of the room.

Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he moved out of the dark and gloomy room to his bike. He didn’t like the way men talked about her, like an object, a feared and loved object. Something to pass around. The blood in his veins began to boil as he thought about the words of Caleb over and over in his head. Anger had to come out. Therefore he left with a hole in Caleb’s gross black wallpaper.

-

“They call you The Devil,” Harry said, walking into the greenhouse, seeing her in her robe and hair down. It was nine in the morning on a Sunday. Sunday was her day to do nothing. \ He leaned against the doorway in the famous black suit she began to love as she smirked to her book. Her sunglasses perched on her nose, designer, expensive, is what screamed from just looking at her.

“So I heard,” she replied, charming being spat at you the moment she opened her glossed lips. “It is a Sunday, Harry,” she muttered, turning the page.

He walked up to her, hands in his pockets as he sat next to her. “I know.”

“Sundays are my day off. Not your day off, how come you aren’t in the meetings I assigned you?” she placed the book down on her lap.

“I cancelled them, moved them to tomorrow,” he calmly said looking out the open window. “Beautiful view, by the way, look at that pond,” he winked.

“You did what?” she raised her eyebrow.

“I thought you and I should get to know one another, so I booked this day off to play with one another,” he smiled, nodding his head to her.

A chuckle left her lips, a chuckle like honey due to him initiating that chuckle. “To play?”

“To play. I thought we could go into town, get some coffee, go for a walk, shop maybe, whatever you like to do on your days off with your friends.”

“I don’t have friends,” he rolled his eyes.

“Of course you do, what am I to you?”

“Fine. Give me half an hour to get ready,” she said, placing the book on the side table and walking out of the greenhouse.

-

Harry knew she was hard to get to. The girl never opened up, she was witted, stubborn, charismatic and she tended to always be ten steps ahead. And he hates to admit it, but he was falling for her. 

The two of them were walking down the streets of London, ending up in the shopping area then sitting in a café looking over the busy streets they call home. She was beginning to loosen up, her ‘leader of a mob’ vibe was slowly beginning to fade as chuckles were exchanged over a cup of coffee.

They sat together, on a booth looking onwards to the street. She was so close, touching thighs then hips and now he threw his arm on the back of the sit. 

“I heard a little rumour,” he said, looking at her as she pursed her lips and locked eyes with him.

“Did you now, what is that rumour?” she raised her eyebrows and letting a smile come to her face. 

“What’s the history between you and Caleb?” he asked, no more flirting, just straight forward. Her eyes instantly stopped looking at his as she placed the mug down.

“Who told you about that?”

“Y/N…” he tried.

“I loved him until he came and almost killed me. He wanted my empire. That’s it,” she told him, refusing to look at him again.

“Y/N, I am sorry,” he began, “you truly don’t deserve that—”

“Kiss me,” she interrupted him, looking at those emerald eyes and just whispering the words that both of them wanted to hear.

“What?”

“You heard me, Styles, kiss me,” she states again. He keeps his eyes widened, not knowing how to respond to her. She leaned in closer, “and here I thought you weren’t a pussy. So kiss me,” she mumbled into his ear, trailing her breath across his jaw to his lips.

Their eyes locked as a smirk appeared on his face. “You are a tease, my darling,” he states. He moved his hand to her hip, cupping it and pulling her closer and ramming their lips together and letting them lose control.

Her hand went to his jaw, cupping it as his fingers began brushing against her exposed thigh. Seconds later, heavy breaths filled the room as they pulled away. A laugh interrupted the silence as she let out a chuckle. He began laughing too as she placed her head on his shoulder. 

“Why are we laughing?” he asked as she still silently chuckled for a second.

“I don’t know. I kissed you,” she says.

“And that’s funny?” he asked amused.

“No, I just never let my emotions run wild, but you change me for the better, Harry.”

“Well, I am glad I do,” he said with a beaming smile, “now let’s head back.”

-

“Mr Y/L/N,” Harry said walking into Y/N’s house as she saw the man in a suit and tie watching him. The older man smirked, a chuckle erupting as he welcomes Harry in. The Italian man sat down on the white couch he knows so well as he tsks his teeth trying to find the words.

“My daughter, you would say she runs the mob well, eh?” he begins, getting up and pouring himself a scotch at the bar. He walked back, handing one to Harry as Harry took a deep breath.

“She is amazing, sir,” Harry said, nodding towards him, appreciating the beverage. 

“It is hard, watching her run it when I am back running the other half in Italy. She does it so well, just like her mother. She is beautiful, intelligent, stubborn and a bit of a bitch, my daughter, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.

Harry bit his lip, “I can only say good things about her.”

“She likes you, Harry,” he states, turning his head to him, “I have never seen her so fond of a man before. She isn’t even that fond of me. The only man she had remote interest was Caleb and I am ready to punch that bastard’s brains out,” he told him. Lorenzo patted Harry’s shoulder, looking into the Brit’s eyes, “You like her back. You’re a good guy, Harry, I would love to see you take over the business, but if you break my little girl...there will be some consequences--”

“Father,” Y/N walked in, seeing her father and Harry together. Lorenzo got up, placing his cup down and kissed his daughter on the cheek. 

“Just talking to Harry, my dear,” she smiled, watching him exit her home.

“You don’t like him,” Harry said walking up to the girl and placing his hands on her hips.

“Who doesn’t? He practically stole me from my mother, and then placed me in this business,” she said, placing a kiss to his cheek. She began walking away, but Harry grabbed her hand spinning her around.

“We fucked last night,” Harry said, with a stern face. Y/N raised her eyebrows. He grabbed her by her waist and pulled her in, “I don’t fuck around, Y/N.”

“Aww, I’m honoured,” she winked, bopping his nose.

“I am being serious, what are we?” he asked her, glaring her down.

“You are my partner?” she innocently said, giving a wink and a smirk.

“Partner in crime, bed or in life?” he asked, she laughed getting out of his grip and skipping down the hallway.

“All three, now help me with this idiot in the basement.”

-

Y/N wandered into her bedroom, wrapping the white silk robe closer to her body as she placed the glass of red wine on her bedside table. It was time to relax and rewind, it hasn’t been a pleasant day in her eyes. She looked at herself in the mirror and a little smile came to her face as she brushed her fingers across her shoulder. He left marks on her and for some odd reason, she loves it.

“What are you doing?” Harry walked up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and whispering in her ear. Her fingers held onto his hands as she melted into his touch. A little smile came to her features as he whispered in her ear sweet nothings.

‘I’m admiring the marks you made,” she said as he began kissing her neck, turning her rapidly and placing his lips back on her plump ones. Their lips worked as one, as they fumbled towards her bed. 

Harry rid his t-shirt as she dropped her robe, leaving him in just his jeans. His hands gripped her waist as he littered kissing on her face. Harry kept pushing her closer to the bed as her little hands compared to his underdid his belt, pushing his jeans and underwear done as she fell on the bed. Giggles erupted the silent room as she kissed his shoulder.

“Are you ok?” he asked, rubbing his hardened cock as she mumbled a yes into his neck. He smiled, pulling back, straddling her as she smiled. He didn’t know what it was but every time they met eyes, he fell more in like with her, possibly close to love. Her hands ran over his shoulder, tracing the tattoos lining his toned body. He pushed forward, kissing her again as she wrapped her body around his. Y/N’s hands gripped his butt as they made out, sexual tension increasing by every second. Their hunger for each other was too much now and Y/N pulled away, grabbing a condom from her bedside table and taking a sip of her red wine as she crashed her lips back on his, more than just needy for him.

Harry took the condom from her as he opened it and rolled it on his cock. She looked into his eyes as he looked up.

“Ready?” she mumbled, he nodded as he grabbed her hip, pushing her down on the bed as her legs opened. He lined himself up with her entrance as he slowly slid in. A slight moan came from her as he pushed himself in. Y/N grabbed him by his face and placed a hungry kiss against them as she slid her hands down his hips to his butt, grabbing it as he began to move to a steady movement.

Moans and groans escaped their lips as they fucked in her bedroom. The sound of slapping of skin and light little huffs, as well as pleasure sounds, were now heard in the once quiet room as they fucked the shit out of one another.

Y/N’s hands moved from his butt to his hips, grabbing them as she pulled away from their quick kisses to one another. She mustered the strength as she pushed him over, swinging her legs over his thighs, riding him and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You are so cheeky,” he muttered, pushing her sweaty locks of hair as he smiled to her, trying to not let too much noise escape from his lips as she rocked her hips against his swollen and hard cock. 

Y/N smirked, kissing his cheek as she whispered in his ear, “I am only cheeky for you, mister,” he moaned at her words as she moved her hips faster. She pulled his hair, letting his head push back as she captured his lips once again.

“Grab my hips,” she muttered as his ringed hands gripped her hips, pushing her harder on his cock as they fucked. Both bodies covered in sweat as they moaned each other’s name.

“I’m going to cum soon,” she muttered in his ear as he nodded.

“Me too, cum with me,” he whispered back as he pushed her body back on the bed and towered over her.

Harry’s ringed hand grabbed her thigh, wrapping it around her butt as he fucked her harder. Y/N couldn’t take it anymore, so close to her finishing that she just let sounds out. He was truly amazing at pleasuring her and she thanked him.

They finished together, heavy breaths exchanged as he rolled off of her, snuggling himself against her body. 

“I know we have known each other for only a few months, Harry, but I think I am falling for you,” she said, playing with his hair as he placed his head against her breasts and wrapping his arms around her.

“I think I am falling for you too.”

-

“Why the grin, Styles?” Caleb asked, walking out from the corner to him. Harry stayed quiet.

“I can’t work for you anymore,” he stated, placing the phone given to him down on the desk.

“You have a debt to pay, Harry,” Caleb said, clicking his tongue as he pulled his suit jacket back, showing a gun.

“I have been working my debt for a while. I think I’ve cleared it,” he pushed back.

“You’re fucking her, aren’t you?” Caleb responded, rolling his eyes, “Here I was thinking that you’re the smart one here, Styles. You are fucking The Devil.”

“It doesn’t matter what I am doing, all I know is that you’re the bad guy here, Caleb. I am done,” he responded, turning away.

“I take it back. You aren’t just fucking her, you are in love with her. Stupid Harry Styles, he’s gonna get his heartbroken by that slut,” Caleb responded. Harry instantly turned around, walking quite fast to Caleb, raising a fist.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he said glaring down the man.

Caleb snickered, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, “You’re in love with her. I sent you on this mission six months ago and you’re like a lovesick puppy. It’s funny in all honesty,” he pursed his lips, Harry lowered his hand.

“I want out of this, Caleb. I may be in love with her, but I paid back my debt and if you refuse to let me go, I’ll tell her about our history--”

“So she can fix up your mess? You humour me, Styles,” Caleb said, “You’re not off the hook. Here’s your next mission.”

-

Harry sat on the couch at her house, as she walked around the room talking about her day and grabbing herself some snacks and a glass of wine for the movie they are about to watch. He loved seeing her like this, in her natural state as she expressed her feelings, her words and what was in her head. Y/N wasn’t calm, collected, stern or cold when she was with him anymore. She was soft and every second, she was falling for him and him for her.

“You’re not listening to me, H,” she said, sitting next to him as he wrapped his arm around her.

“Of course I am, love,” he told her kissing her temple.

“I am meeting Caleb tomorrow,” she said, kissing his lips, and looking up to him.

His eyes widened, “Why?”

“Because, my dear, I have a plan,” she said, poking his nose and winking.

“Now, why are you being so quiet?” she asked, kneeling in front of him and cupping his cheeks. He smiled gently at her, looking away as he tried to form the words on his tongue.

“I lied to you,” he said, she stopped rubbing his cheek as he pulled away and ruffled his hair. “I lied to you, Y/N.”

“Lied to me about what Harry?” she responded to his frazzled voice. Harry still couldn’t look her in the eye as he tried to form the words he desperately wanted to say. “Harry, baby, I love you, remember? Nothing is going to change that,” she said, “I’m getting worried,” she grabbed his cheeks and pulled him to her. “Look at me, tell me,” she pleaded.

“I lied. I had a price on my head and Caleb helped me to pay it off as long as I worked for him. I, Y/N, I was a spy. I was hired to tell everything about you--”

She pulled away instantly, “And did you tell him, Harry?” he nodded.

“Not everything, just in the beginning. The moment I got feelings for you, I stopped. Please, love, forgive me. Let’s move past--” “Stop,” she said, pulling away from his embrace as she walked out of the living room. “You broke my trust, Harry. I fucking trusted you, I fucking trusted you. I fucking love you and this happens. Get out!” she said, looking at him with such anger that he didn’t recognise her orbs anymore.

“Please,” he pleaded, walking towards her to try again to grab her hand.

“No. I love you so much--”

“Then forgive me. I have been feeding you information for months.”

“Why haven’t you told me sooner?” she asked, rubbing her temples. 

“Because I was afraid of this, darling,” he said, taking a piece of her hair and twirling it.

“Just get out. I’ll call you when I am ready to see you again, Styles,” she told him, walking past him, bumping shoulders as she left. Then she was gone.

-

She sat, biting her nails as she looked around the darkroom. Y/N recognised her bodyguard by the door as she waited for the man she loathed so much. The man that was truly a snake in disguise and an artist of vileness. A man who crushed her heart and spread rumours around that she’ll open her legs up for anyone and they call her the Devil. They call her The Devil when really it was him who was the devil.

She was supposed to meet Caleb a few weeks ago, but she refused to go when she was in that emotional state. Its been three weeks since she saw Harry and it was the hardest three weeks of her life. The beauty felt lifeless, lost and sad without him and she just wanted him back. Yet, she couldn’t, she had a business to run and she had a plan.

“Why’d you cancel?” The Devil walked in, she rolled her eyes, looking at the bloodstain on his cheek.

“You have a little something,” she said, rubbing her cheek.

“It’s for you to lick off later, you love it when I get all down and dirty,” he winked to her and she just gagged in the inside.

“Oh, you wish. I am here on business, let’s talk.” Just then, her Harry walked in. Suit on and hair fixed perfectly as she watched him sit next to Caleb. He was hurt, she recognised. She could see it in his eyes.

“My associate and I have come with a proposition, we’ve seen how you run your empire and we’re impressed. But there is room for approvement and we’d like to offer our services,” Caleb said, lighting a cigarette and placing it to his lips.

“Hi, Harry,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “We all love a traitor,” Y/N said, standing up and walking across the room, brushing the chairs with her fingers types as she pulled a chair out and sat on it. She leaned forward, forehead almost touching with Harry’s, yet pulling back.

“So, you think you’re so superior. With your little suit and tie and the Rover on the driveway. You really thought you could just take my empire, like that,” she said, snapping her fingers. Y/N placed her palms on the table, “You’re wrong and here I thought you’re so smart, Caleb. Don’t make a deal with the Devil, is what they say, huh? How come you wanna mess with that shit?” she smirked to him, glaring the man down.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked, voice stern. Y/N turned her back on him, placing her hands on the hip.

Three men were stood behind Harry and Caleb; three bodyguards. Y/N turned around, whipping the gun from her holster as she took three easily shots to the men. “No, we don’t,” she mumbled, blowing the smoke from her gun. “Didn’t your mother taught you to play nice? If you play dirty, two can play that game.” Harry stood up, fixing his suit jacket as he walked towards Y/N.

“You nasty piece of shit. You bitch,” Caleb said, pulling his gun out and pointing it to her. Harry pulled his and pointed it to Caleb.

“You may have street smarts, but at least I know what the fuck I am doing,” she told him, “Shoot me, my gang won’t go to you. Shoot Harry, that won’t change anything except make me really sad. We don’t want me sad, last night, I killed your brother. So, make a smart choice here Caleb. If you don’t kill me, we could forever be in this fight where everyone knows you love me. You won’t kill me. Kill Harry, I’ll kill you. Make your decision,” she said, no hesitation in her voice.

“You were also smart,” he told her.

“I know,” she told him, as he lowered his gun.

“You two will make beautiful babies,” he said again, looking at the floor as he tried to buy time.

“I know that too. I wish I could send you an invite to the wedding or the baby shower. I have an old friend who wants you, Caleb and not in a good way. He’s standing outside. What is going to happen, is Harry’s gonna open the door and you’re going to not resist. He’ll take you away and we’ll never have to see each other again. Harry and I can move on, and you will be dead. There are some people who actually know how to make a deal with the devil, sugar, you just aren’t one of them.”

-

Y/N walked out of the bathroom, silk robe wrapped around her as she made her way to bed. Harry sat, with a book in his hand. Its been six months since Caleb was taken to Japan where he made a bad deal with a gang leader there. They have been happy since. 

“You’re so badass and beautiful,” he cheekily said, as she climbed in bed and met him with a kiss. She giggled in between the kisses as his hands drifted to her butt. “Here, I thought you hated me in the beginning,” he said, kissing her cheek as she pulled away.

“What?! No! I never hated you when we first met,” she said, cupping his cheeks as she straddled him with her knees in the queen size bed.

“You so hated me,” he told her, smirking and dragging out the “oh” sound. 

“No!” 

“Yes, no kiss me you little bugger,” and she gladly did.

“I really love you,” she mumbled, against his lips. He hummed in agreement.

“If you really love me, bug,” he kissed her again, “then marry me.”

-

Tag list - dm, inbox or comment to be added/removed :)

@alinashawn @mendesnecessary @i-am-bisexual-and-a-girl @un-limit-edd @ashwarren32 @harrysahottie @iimagineloves @claredolphinbear24 @purple-cream-cheese @particularlymendes @lilya-petrichor @laggyphone @winchesterwife27 @neverlandqueen15 @kissme-hs @mutuallynotmutual @why-are-all-the-teens-gay @min-amani @a-classy-asian @bandsandanimefreak @for-harrys-eyesonly

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Disaster Lads: A Collab, Part One

This is part one of a five-part collab piece I did with @whumpiary! In which our disaster lads meet and the inevitable ensues. 

CW: Referenced drugging, forced drinking, referenced past noncon, some dubcon fuckiness and trauma response headspace. Things get darker as we go, and more explicit, too. But also Kauri flirts and it’s adorable. Just a fair warning. I’ll do warnings for each individual chapter as we go.

Tagging Kauri’s crew:  @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @spiffythespook, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly

Kauri isn’t entirely sure how it happened, but somehow his back is against a wall, a drink is in his hand, and there’s a man leaning over him with that grin on his face that Kauri usually likes… but today, he doesn’t.

The bar is kind of dark, and there’s a band playing something that mostly sounds like sad yelling over geese honking to Kauri, but everyone had cheered when the band came onstage so maybe he just doesn’t get the music. He’s not even dressed for the bar, honestly - he’s in his big black zip-up sweatshirt, Dustin’s so it hangs off his shoulders and his hands are mostly covered by the sleeves. A thin thrift-store t-shirt and ripped-up black skinny jeans, the faded old checkered slip-on sneakers he’s had forever… he looks halfway homeless.

The guy has him cornered anyway, and Kauri is feeling all the other drinks he’s let guys buy him tonight, kind of spinning and silly with the alcohol in his veins. It makes it easier not to feel uncomfortable, but part of him is. 

He wants to say no, but the word sticks in his throat.

“Come on,” The guy says, leaning over him - it feels like looming - and pushing even closer into his space. “I bought you the drink, the least you could do is a little something for me in return.”

I don’t want to, Kauri thinks in something like a panicked wail.

The man’s knuckles brush the side of his throat and it’s probably a flirtation but Kauri thinks of Owen’s hands around his neck - it feels like a threat.

“Wh-what… what did you have in mind?” Kauri’s voice is airy, a little breathless. His heart is pounding, his face is flushed, and maybe he looks into this… but he’s not. But it kind of seems like the guy maybe knows and doesn’t care.

“A lot of shit, honestly, you’ve been on my radar a while, but first… let’s start with you finishing that drink.” He reaches out and takes the glass out of Kauri’s hand, raising it to his lips. The first sip of syrupy-sweet cocktail seems more like liquid ash on Kauri’s tongue. “You’re a pretty cute drunk.”

“Am… am I?” He asks when the man lets him stop drinking. “I, I don’t want-”

“Have another drink,” The man interrupts, and pushes the rim of the glass against his lips again.

Cass had been watching the guy with the curly hair and the cute smile on and off all night. Partly because he's pretty. Partly because he looks like he’s dressed for a soup kitchen rather than a bar. But mostly because he looks familiar. Annoyingly familiar, in a way that’s maybe more significant than ‘hey didn’t we fuck in a bathroom stall one time?’. 

The girl Cass has been chatting to is very, very, very boring. Stupidly boring. So it’s ridiculously easy to focus his attention just over her shoulder at Curly Hair and the guy who’s got him pressed against the wall in the corner, and the pink drink that’s being held up between them, fed to the shorter of the two like it's the holy fucking grail.

Desires are sticky. Syrupy. And in a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, revulsion is bitter and obvious. Like whiskey in apple juice. Like smoke under perfume.

Cass wishes he'd had more to drink. A couple more vodka tonics and he'd probably refuse to give a shit. But he's annoyingly sober, and he can't help but notice Curly Hair sort of glance around, looking for an exit that doesn't exist.

Cass watches as he smiles, tilts his head. Cass' stomach lurches. He's seen that head tilt. Fuck, Cass has given that head tilt. I want you to want me but I don't want this.

“Hey Kirsty," he says, serving a grin to the blonde next to him. She frowns. 

“It’s Kristie.”

“Right. Kristie,” Cass says. Easy smile, a finger tracing circles on the back of her hand. “You wanna go dance? I’ll catch up in a sec”

The girl pouts, grabbing his hand, “Aren’t you gonna come? I kinda thou-”

“Kʀɪsᴛɪᴇ, ɢᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ.”

The girl's frown melts into a grin faster than she can notice what’s happening and nods her head enthusiastically, like dancing had been her idea in the first place. And then she’s gone, melted into the pulsing mass of bodies. 

Cass needs to get out of here. In a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, the feeling of I don’t want this is so loud and grating it makes Cass’ heart catch in his throat. And then there’s the other guy. Cass can feel the fucking lust pouring off of the guy. Not just the desire for an easy lay but the absolute exhilaration of a predator who’s got dinner trapped. Or is about to, Cass thinks, eyes following the asshole’s gaze to where they're fixated on a sickening cocktail he’s feeding the smaller guy.

Cass pushes himself away from the bar. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here before he does something stupid because he promised Lou he wouldn't pick anymore fights and because this is none of his business and just because the guy seems familiar doesn't mean Cass knows him but he still finds himself snaking to the corner, anyway, grabbing the tall guy by the elbow- 

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” he says, feigning rapt enthusiasm.

The taller guy looks Cass up and down. His hair is annoyingly perfect. Like if you tapped it, maybe it'd make a sound like knocking on hard plastic.

“I don’t think so,” the guy says, shark teeth twisted into a grin. Cass watches as his grip tightens minutely on the glass he’s holding. Yeah, fuckhead. Wouldn’t want to lose that, now would we?  “If you don’t mind, we’re kinda busy.”

And he's turning back to Curly Hair, who is melting into the wall, a skittish mess of maybe he’ll talk to the new guy - if it’s what you want then I want it - I don't want this - just say no kauri you can just say no - I want this I want you - just say no stop it stop - no just drink it don’t make him mad - I don't want this and Cass really fucking wishes he'd had another few drinks because then he could just walk away, but instead he hits the cocktail careening out of Tall Guy's hand, a spectacular pink mess over the guy's crisp white shit.

Kauri flinches back, hands up over his mouth, staring wide-eyed at the mess.

"Shit, dude. Sorry. I'm such a klutz," Cass grins, holding up innocent hands with a shrug. "That roofie wasn't expensive or anything, was it?"

And sure, maybe this was none of his business, but it's so satisfying when the guy shoves him into the wall. Maybe even more satisfying than the sound of the crunch of the guy's nose breaking as Cass headbutts him in the face.

The guy stumbles back, hands over his nose as blood starts to pour, screaming half-formed curse words that are muffled by his hand and the nasal sound of his voice. From behind the bar, a bartender yells, “God damn it, no fighting! What the fuck, Kauri?!”

Kauri curls back against the wall, his wide, frightened eyes going from the bloody pink-stained man to the new guy who had hit him with his whole entire head and back again. “I’m sorry!” He shouts back to the bartender. “I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

“Yeah, well, do something about it!”

Kauri gives the bartender a look of incredulous terror. He’s 5’7” and all lithe, willowy flexibility and he has the brute fighting strength of a very small kitten.

“Like what, exactly?!”

The guy drops his hand - the bottom half of his face is a mess of blood now - and with a snarl, pulls his fist back to punch Cass again. 

“Stop them fighting over your dumb hot ass or I’m calling the cops, Kauri!”

The name sticks in Cass' head as he lets the guy land another punch, hard on his cheek.

"Kᴀᴜʀɪ, ɢʀᴀʙ ʜɪs ᴀʀᴍ," he says, on impulse, because the guy is kinda huge and Cass isn’t particularly strong, and he’s been in plenty of fights but he usually only stops them by not really being conscious anymore. 

Kauri’s hands snap out thoughtlessly, grabbing the guy’s other arm and helping Cass shove him face-first against the wall, only to freeze up, eyes widening even more in terror as he has no idea why he just did that. 

"You better calm the fuck down, man," Cass says, twisting the guy’s wrist so it twinges just a little behind him. He feels amped up and shaky with adrenaline. He hopes he looks as feral as he feels. The big guy blinks, slow and stupid as he tries to catch up with what just happened. "'Cause either I'm gonna kill you or the bar staff are gonna call the cops on your ass. And we both know what they're gonna find in that glass.”

The guy's eyes widen in shock, then narrow. “You can’t prove-”

“You roofied me?” Kauri asks, as though the multiple comments Cass had made had only just sunk into his mind. He felt himself reel with horror, trying to pull away, but his hands just… don’t want to let go of the man’s arm. Panic was a drumbeat in his mind. He knows what roofies are, Nat told him about those, and that they taste kind of salty but there was a salt rim on the drink the guy bought him-

“You were going to roofie me?”

“That jackass broke my nose!” The guy yells, although it comes out more like dat jackash boke by dose. Cass kind of wants to interject that he probably didn't break the guys nose, but it doesn't really seem like the time. “I’ve been talking to you all night and you just believe some asshole that walks up and punches a stranger?”

“I… I…” Kauri cringes back from the fury in the man’s voice. He’s going to be hurt, and he’s terrified, and the only thing on earth he wants right now is to get out of here and away before the man’s hands are around his neck just like Owen’s, it’ll be like that, he’ll hurt and hurt and then pass out and if he can just maybe make nice the guy will stop being angry-

“I, I’m sorry, you-... you did buy me the drink, that was… that was nice… but, but if he saw you-"

"He didn't see shit." 

The guy did not seem to realize that that wasn't exactly denying he'd done it. 

Cass feels cold fury run through him. He can feel the lust-turned-sour, good-night-wasted annoyance that the guy in front of him is vibrating with. And the panic pouring off of Kauri, so palpable and crystalline it may as well be his own. The want to run away, to get out of here, to back down, to apologise, make nice. They mingle together in his head.

Who the fuck tries makes nice with the asshole who was gonna drug them? He tries to ignore the ‘you sure used to’ that creeps into his head.

Cass doesn't care. He wants to run away and he wants to get out of here but more than that he wants to make someone bleed. This guy walked into the bar tonight, sought out the most vulnerable guy he could find and thought prey. He deserves to know what that feels like. He flips the guy around, pressing a hard hand to his chest to keep him flush to the wall.

“I think I’m gonna call you Scooter,” Cass says “You look like a Scooter”

“The name’s Matt, jackass,” the guy growls. It takes way too much effort to pronounce the M. Cass grins. Matt, huh?

"Alright, Mᴀ��ᴛ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ G ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ. Gɪᴠᴇ ᴜs ᴀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ,” he says. The guy blinks, reaches mindlessly into the pocket of the shitty jeans he’s wearing and pulls out a nondescript little bottle. Matt is staring at the drugs like he can’t imagine how they possibly got into his hand. Cass grins. It’s nice to stare at a predator and make them feel small. "I think he should have to drink it. What do you think, Kauri?"

"Jesus Christ," Matt says, nasally and strangled. "Why did... What the fuck, I should knock your teeth out!"

Kauri grabs the pill bottle out of his hand and tries, despite his hands shaking so badly the fucking bottle rattles, to look like he's reading, carefully keeping his eyes unfocused so they won't try to settle on or understand the letters. Kauri steps closer to them both, putting his hands up slowly, like a man being held hostage. 

"Look, you guys, we can just… nobody has to fight," He says, pitching his voice lower, cocking his head just a little to the side. "The bouncers are gonna kick us all out in a second and, and I don't need-... We don't need that, right? Matt? We don't need to, to have anybody closer than this. Just us, right?"

His heart hammers, heartbeat so strong it's nearly knocking the breath out of him. His voice is airy, and soft, and just a little flirty under the fear.  

You can fix this. No one calls the cops, no one tells, no one looks too close.

"You didn't n-need that, I'd have… have gone with you anyway, Matt…"

Kauri, you can't say yes if you don't know how to say no. He ignores Nat's strident voice in his head and slides just a little closer, the rise and fall of his chest and the whites around his eyes the only giveaway of his fear. He can see bouncers and he has to make this better before too many people are looking at them. 

Matt snorts a kind of bitter, angry laughter, then winces as that burns his injured nose. "You would. The ones like you always do, right?" 

Kauri freezes, all the color draining out of his face. The bottle of pills drops to the floor and rolls away, kicked by someone walking by and getting lost somewhere in the crowd. "What?" 

"Tell your fucking White Knight to fuck off," Matt says reaching out to grab Kauri's left wrist. "Kauri Grant."

Cass doesn't have time to figure out why the fuck that name sounds so familiar. All he needs to know what's happening is in that look on Kauri's face. He's seen that look. God, he's given that look. Whoever Kauri Grant is, he needs to be the hell away from here. Now.

"Okay, seriously buddy, we don't want anymore trouble," he tries, taking a quick glance at the bouncers closing in behind them "How about you let this go and we do too?"

"I'm not letting go of shit," says Matt, with a smile full of blood. He has one hand locked over Kauri's wrist, pushing up against the leather bracelet there. "Do you have any idea how much this little whore is worth?"

Cass swings the punch before he even has the chance to think what that could mean. Which is maybe not a great move, actually, with bouncers headed their way and a bar full of patrons who are starting to look over. It's especially not a great move because Matt swivels, jerking out of the way, sending Cass' fist straight into the side of Kauri's skull. 

Kauri's world crashes at the impact, stumbling back and falling hard onto his side on the floor, head bouncing against the sticky woodgrain, blinking against the black spots dancing in front of his eyes. 

It doesn't stop the panic. 

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

"Y-you can't," he tries, his voice sounding weird and off to his own ears, pushing himself up. "Can't, can't turn me in-"

"I wasn't going to, before that little shit showed up," Matt says with a nasty note of triumph in his voice, one Kauri knows too well. "The guy who just hit you."

Kauri manages to stand up, catching the bouncers too close, too close, and he grabs onto Cass's arm. "He was… was trying to hit you," Kauri says, voice shaking. "And you-... tried to drug me."

"Like no one's ever drugged you before," Matt sneers, and Kauri swallows, hard, and doesn't protest. Matt waves at the bouncers. "Hey! This is Kauri Grant!"

The frozen fear in Kauri thaws and he jerks at Cass's arm to yank him not towards the door but deeper into the bar, pushing through the crowd towards the other side of the stage. 

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

Cass knows that name, why does he know that name?

It doesn't matter. What matters is they get the hell away from here right now. He turns in Kauri's grip to look over his shoulder, locks eyes with the asshole who seems intent on ruining this poor bastard's life. 

"Mᴀᴛᴛ," he yells as he's hauled away into the crowd, "Sʜᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ."

It's not exactly elegant but Matt slams his jaw closed so hard Cass can see him wince against the jolt of pain through his bashed in face. Cass cackles as they disappear into the mass of bodies on the dancefloor.

He feels high. There's twin feelings gripping his chest, the thrill of a fight and the blinding panic of running away. The rush of beating someone at their own game twisted with the knowledge that they need to get the hell out of here before they're caught.  He has no idea what's happening but it's fast and it's thrilling. It's making him dizzy, making his blood pump electric. He barks another laugh as he dodges some random guy's elbow, grips Kauri's hand even harder and lets himself be pulled.

"God, who the fuck is Kauri Grant?"

Kauri pulls him to a small door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY just to the side of the stage, shoving it open and stumbling out into a dark alley, the sudden chill on his skin the only reason Kauri realizes he's sweating.

Out here the noise is gone, there's the sound of sirens far away, and Kauri's eyes dart around, thinking, before he pulls Cass to the right, further down the alley, stepping over refuse and empty beer bottles. 

"I… I am," Kauri says, voice thin. The side door they just left opens and he pulls Cass quickly against the wall with him to hide behind a dumpster. "I'm Kauri Grant." He swallows hard, panic still beating at the back of his mind, and slowly slides down the wall to sitting, putting his head in his hands. 

"You hit really hard for how skinny you are, d'you know that?"

Maybe it’s the sudden cold, or maybe it’s the way Kauri’s holding his head, but waves of exhaustion and regret and fear hit Cass all at once. He ducks down as voices and noise filter wide and loud, and then go squashed and muffled again with the swinging of the door. 

“Fuck man, I’m so sorry,” he mutters, ducking his head to assess the damage. “I didn’t even think”

He reaches out a hand, pulls it back before contact. He really doesn’t know how to do this. The whole… God, what did Fuckhead McGee call it? The whole White Knight schtick. Is he meant to go find ice? Buy the guy a drink for his troubles? Usually when he finds himself kneeling on the wet concrete of an alley in front of a stranger it’s for a very different reason.

Cass sits back on his heels and laughs, loud and unabashed. He’d listened to that girl at the bar talk about her boyfriend for forty minutes when he should’ve been finding some pretty guy to sneak away with. And then he found a pretty guy and punched him in the face. Which… wasn’t always a dealbreaker, but even in the now relative quiet of the alley his heart is still slamming like there’s something to run away from and his brain feels cracked open and Jesus Christ, this night is already just so fucking dumb. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says between giggles. He tries to calm it down to a grin. “I swear I’m not laughing at you, Kauri Grant. Did I, um…Is your head okay?”

"Yeah, my head's fine. I've been hit before," Kauri says, not quite muttering, rubbing his hand into his black curls. "Not usually in the head, but, you know, it's kinda empty anyway." He flashes a bright, deflecting smile, looking up at Cass. 

Kauri's head cocks slightly to the side, something in his smile changing, softening a little. Not quite flirtation, something more in self-defense. "Can you just say Kauri, please? I don't, um, I don't like his name. Very much. It's just, that's what they call me…" His voice trails off. "Thanks for, um. For catching that guy… I didn't know he put something in it... I didn’t know he knew.”

Cass frowns a little, trying to understand. Didn’t know who knew what?

"Okay you have to back up, you're giving me more questions than… than answers right now..." 

But then the pieces of Kauri he's seen through the night start falling together. The skittish eyes that didn't match with the flirting smile. Thanking the guy who would have happily held him limp in a basement. The wanting and wanting and wanting paired with the desperate need to run away. 

The ones like you, that guy had said, looking at Kauri like he was something to be eaten. The ones like what? The ones who met conflict with apologies and desperate bids for distraction. His eyes flick to the bracelet on Kauri's wrist, thick and leather and out of place amongst the rest of his "robbed a Good Will" ensemble and too wide, really to be stylish. Just wide enough to hide a tattoo, maybe. Or a brand.

I don’t like his name very much. Cass feels himself paling.

"Oh my god, you're somebody's," he whispers. He closes his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face. Swallows the dry lump in his throat. "You're meant to belong to somebody."

Kauri jerks his arms back against himself, pulling the sleeve of his sweatshirt over the bracelet about ten minutes too late. 

He looks up at Cass, blue eyes wide and pleading, and reaches out his hand to brush his fingers against Cass's hand, pitching his voice lower. 

"You, you don't have to tell anyone. That I'm, um. You don't have to. I can… I can-" He has no idea how to say this. He focuses his thoughts on what he knows, falling back on training. I want this. I want you. I am an active participant in fulfilling my owner's desires. 

"I can, um. Whatever you, you want, if you won't say you saw me?" His voice shakes - he can't seem to stop it. He has to hope it sounds like the good kind of nervous and not the terror he really feels. 

Cass feels his stomach drop, something catching in his throat as fingers brush the back of his hand again. The tug and pull of I want this. The tilt of Kauri’s head is so tempting it looks rehearsed. I want you.

“That’s…” Kauri’s eyes are gorgeous — huge and blue and desperate — and Cass has to close his own just to think straight. “That’s not what…  I, um.”

I want this. I want you. Resolute and relentless against his thoughts. I want this. I want you. Over and over and over again. Frenzied and pleading and wanting and fucking terrified.  I want this. I want you. 

Cass curls his fingers around Kauri’s, running his thumb along the other boy’s palm. I want this. I want you. Something in him feels shaken up and loose at the hinges from feeling it. It feels wrong. Too familiar, too close to home, too close to… something. Please let me want this. Please want me too.

Cass closes his eyes again, shakes his head. Maybe it’s just the after effects of being knocked crooked. Cass did punch the guy in the face. And it’s been kind of a fucked up fifteen minutes. Maybe they both just need the distraction. The relief of something simple and easy. And if they're both actively participating in something dumb and fun and stupid, maybe it’ll be enough to make them both feel better. 

“Look, I’m not… I’m not gonna say anything,” he says, tugging Kauri’s hand closer, tracing a line up his arm. I want this. He smiles, let’s the pulse of it spur him on “We can just have fun, okay? I’m not gonna say anything”

Relief washes over Kauri, a wave of it that nearly knocks him over. He’s doing it right, his voice is right, all the training is working and letting him slide into an easier place in his head. His smile isn’t quite sincere and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but the relief in it is very real. 

Besides, the guy is cute, and Kauri would’ve gone home with him, too. 

The ones like you always do.

There’s an unease - he doesn’t always like that things like that are true, about him - and he chases it away by closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts. I want this, I want him - and that part definitely isn’t a lie - and I’ll be safe if I give him this. 

“Okay, um, th-thanks,” He says, voice just a little breathy, ducking his head with another shy smile.”I’m, um, I’m up for basically anything, basically always.” He gives a cheeky little grin and a laugh, like that’s a joke he tells to a lot of people and has memorized the timing on. “Just, I’m not trained for-... I don’t go in for pain. That’s it. Hey, so, um, you know my name… what’s yours? So I know what to scream later.”

He’d heard that in a movie once and always kind of wanted to say it.

Cass laughs, broken harmony against Kauri's own. The line is lame but it doesn’t really matter. Kauri makes it charming. He is ridiculously good at this.

"Cass. But usually people just stick with ‘oh, God'," he laughs, moving in closer, grin against grin. He leans in to brush his lip against Kauri's jaw, slow and teasing, hands staying steady on the guy's knee as Kauri hitches in a breath and shivers, turning his head to give Cass a better angle for it. "And I go for anything."

He wants this. They both do. The relief of something familiar and safe. Just a minute of stupid normal. I want this. Cass plants a kiss at the corner of Kauri's jaw. I want him. Cass lets his hand slide from knee to thigh. I'll be safe if I give him this. Cass pulls himself closer in, brings his fingers up to tangle in the dark curls at the nape of Kauri’s neck and… and… 

I'll be safe if I want this.

The wave of revulsion that runs through him is slow and sickly, like hot tar, like molasses. Familiar and foreign in the same mouthful. 

"Sorry. I, uh," he pulls back and he can feel the ghost of Christopher's hands on his hips, pulling his hair back, lips against his cheek – Don't hesitate, darling boy. Show me what you want.

“Hey… you okay?” Kauri murmurs the words, and it’s with real concern, shivering at the feeling of Cass’s fingers in his hair, slipping his own hands to touch lightly at his ribs on either side, a question and a test. 

Cass feels adrenaline gripping him but that's fine, that's good, because wanting and fear walk the same line anyway. I'm an active participant. Which doesn’t feel like the shape of a thought that’s his but is close enough to that it doesn’t matter. He wants this. It's safer to want it. Then you don't have to think. You don't have to feel. That's why places like this are fun, why nights like these are so good.

So like every other night like this, he pulls in close to prettiest guy in the bar, pushes down the resistance in himself, and kisses him fucking senseless.

Kauri’s head tilts back and up for it, twisting his fingers hard into Cass’s shirt to pull him in even closer, until his head bumps back into the wall behind him and he loses his balance, falling back to sitting on the ground with a soft, sweet little laugh, a breath of air before he lets Cass kiss him mindless again.

The safest he’s felt for weeks is times like this, a man’s hands on him, a man’s mouth on his, knowledge and certainty that someone wants him, that he has something to give other people, some way to earn their kindness and repay it. His hands slide up Cass’s neck to tangle in his hair, too, pulling him in as close as he can get on the ground in a dark alley, skin lighting up everywhere they touch. 

“H-hey, I can’t, ah-...” He breaks free, and flashes the shy little smile again. He feels so good now, safer, because he’ll be good and he knows Cass meant it when he said he wouldn’t tell, he looks like someone who won’t tell anyone, and Kauri has to trust him. “I don’t… I’m technically homeless. So if you think I’m taking you home, uh… welcome to my house, I guess,” He says, gesturing at the alley around them and then laughing a little to himself.

He’s gotten himself this far, but there’s still a hint of the artificial conditioning twining all his conscious thoughts. I want this is real and true but it’s also what he knows how to say, and I’m safer if I want it, I matter if someone wants me and I want to matter to someone runs under honest desire as he moves to slip his hand up under Cass’s shirt. 

“H-how do you, how do you want to… um… this?”

Cass practically vibrates at Kauri's touch and he leans in even closer. Every touch is a relief. His body has been begging for this, for touch, all week

"Well I'd say we could go back to mine but…" Cass thinks of white walls, screaming fluorescents. His tiny quarters with the single bed and the sliding door that Tucker swans in and out of as he pleases. "Mine's not really much of a house either. So I guess we'll just get creative at yours"

He catches Kauri's lips again and pulls himself in closer until he's all but straddling the guy's lap. Kauri moves his body against Cass's like he was custom made for it. He lets his hand come to a gentle rest on the column of the guy's throat, his thumb tracing the line from his chin to his collar and back up again.

This is all Cass has wanted all week. To wrap himself in someone else's wants and just disappear for a bit. And yeah, maybe it feels a little off tonight. A little sickly. Like eating overripe fruit. But it's also been a long time since he's been this close to sober and trying to hook up with someone so who the fuck knows.

"Gotta say, I love what you've done to the place," he adds, breaking the kiss with a grin as he glances around at their elegant surroundings. Kauri laughs, almost a breathless giggle, glad he’s found someone with a real sense of humor even if it’s to keep him from telling anyone who he’s seen. Cass brings his lips to Kauris throat and let's his voice buzz electric along his jugular "I usually swoon for just one dumpster but three? You're such a romantic."

Kauri tips his head back against the wall behind him, staring up into the flat, featureless sky. As soon as Cass says the word Romantic, though, he goes perfectly still. Every muscle tense, for just a second it’s closer to holding a frightened animal than a person.

“Uh, th-thanks,” He manages, shakily, pushing the nerves back down. Just another way to call him a slut, like everyone else does, but he’ll do what he wants and be safer that way. It doesn’t matter if he calls Kauri a whore or a slut or a Romantic, it all means the same thing - people like him. People who can’t stop themselves, who don’t know better, who are nothing and no one unless somebody is touching them.

Cass is nice, and his hands and his mouth feel so good, and it doesn’t matter what he calls Kauri. What matters is giving him what he wants. 

He makes himself relax, consciously, and slides his hands around behind Cass, shifting his hips up, letting training take over again until the nervousness could die back down. I matter if someone wants me, it doesn’t matter why or how, I’m safe if I want this. 

“If you want, I could, um, could g-go down on you,” Kauri breathes, rolling his hips up.  

Cass feels himself grinning at the same moment as he feels his stomach clench in a knot so tight he can hardly breathe. Wanting and fear walk the same line. The latter is easy enough to ignore.

"Fuck yes," he all but moans, swinging his leg around to sit against the wall beside Kauri. Cass fumbles for the button of his jeans. He wants this. Kauri does too. Cass can feel how much he wants this. Kauri wants to feel safe. He wants Kauri to feel safe. And he also wants his brain to shut off and stop screaming discomfort just because the water’s a little muddy.

It doesn't matter if he wants it because it's gonna feel so good once it's happening he won't even care. And then he'll make Kauri feel so good, Kauri won't care either. He won't care about being wanted. He won't care about being safe because Cass will make him feel fucking fantastic. 

And all of that would’ve been fine if Cass didn’t look up and catch Kauri’s eyes.  He feels the knot in his stomach twist. In less than a second any spark of libido he had had rots and dies. There’s no want in Kauri's eyes. No nervous excitement. It’s not eagerness that’s pulling their bodies in close.

Desperation and terror were just one hell of a cocktail. Especially when finished off with resignation.

Cass closes his eyes and let's his head fall against the wall with a dull thunk.

“No,” he whispers. “No, hold on, stop.”

He really wishes he'd had some ket. Or at least a bit of molly. Just something to blunt the edges of whatever the fuck is happening right now. Something is wrong with him.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, shaking his head. He doesn't open his eyes. "Something's wrong, I can't do this. You don't… you don’t..."

Kauri’s hands are still tangled in Cass’s shirt at first, and he slowly pulls them back, worried, leaning forwards to try and tilt his head and look closer at Cass’s face. No no no no. He’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know what, or how - it had seemed right, like it was all happening the way it was supposed to and soon enough he’d forget to be scared and just feel good things until it was done, and if it was good enough Cass wouldn’t tell anybody about him in case maybe he saw him again. 

That’s how it works. Kauri gives, and he gets safety in return. But this isn’t safe.

You don’t even know if you actually want it or if you just think that because they made you. It’s what he thinks the end of that sentence probably is, because it’s what Dustin said when Kauri tried, and it’s what Jake said, and it’s what everyone tells him over and over again. That he can’t even know what he wants, because Owen wanted him brainless and a slut.

“I’m sorry, is it… something I’ve done?”

Cass scoffs a laugh, knocking the back of his head into the brick wall to try and shake his thoughts back straight. What the fuck is he meant to say? Sorry bro, my telepathy killed the mood.

“No,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face “No you didn’t do anything, you just… you’re just-”

You’re just too fucking close to my kind of broken.

There’s a harsh sort of panic bouncing off of Kauri in waves at the rejection. What the fuck is Cass meant to do though? He can’t pretend like everything’s fine because it’s not. He can’t tell him to piss off because then he’d really be an asshole. He can’t fuck him because it’d be… that’d be...

Cass’ stomach lurches. He slams his hands down against the concrete with a growl, kicks at an empty bottle by his leg. It scrapes harsh against the ground in a loud, grating circle and Cass flinches his foot back like it cut him.

“Jesus Christ, this is fucked,” he says, laughter twisting his voice and making it bitter. He looks over at the person who pulled him out of a bar fight ten minutes ago. This random person who he'd started a bar fight for fifteen minutes ago. This random fucking person he shouldn't give two shits about. Cass shakes his head, "You don't wanna be here, man. Just go home."

Kauri snorts, almost bitterly. “I can’t, remember? I don’t fucking have one. Although I guess I could go sit on the bus…” He sighs, watching Cass - and he’s not always good at reading people’s intentions, but he can read emotions fairly well and he can see that Cass looks nearly sick, either angry or upset, and he just takes in a deep breath, putting his hands up over his face and then down again.

“No, I get it. It’s because I’m a pet, right? It’s, you wanted to see what it’s like with a pet. You saw me with that guy and knew, and you thought you’d try, too, and you can’t… don’t want to, once I’m really here.”

Cass is shaking his head before Kauri even finishes speaking. Who calls themself a fucking pet?

"What the fuck? No. Jesus Christ, no," he screws his face up, rakes his hand through his hair.

Cass can feel something volcanic starting to bubble up inside of him.

He had done everything right tonight. He hadn't had too much to drink. He'd helped some random guy in trouble just because it was the right thing to do. He'd taken Kauri’s lead and then he'd read the warning signs and he'd stopped. He’d fucking stopped. How was he still the bad guy?

"No fucking way are you putting that bullshit on me," he spits. "You're the one who pulled me out here. I was just trying to help. You don't know what you want, then don't fuck with people's heads!"

“Fuck with people’s-” Kauri’s own voice edges with real anger. “I didn’t fuck with anybody’s head! I just, this guy hit on me and bought me a drink, and you showed up and said it was drugged! I didn’t do anything wrong, people talk about wanting to try out pets all the time, I-”

He catches himself, cutting off his own voice all at once like turning off a radio. No no no, if you make him mad he’ll tell someone or he’ll get really really mad or…

Kauri looks away, down at the alleyway pavement, scraping at it lightly with one shoe. “... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t get angry. You were really trying to help, and, and that was really nice of you, to do that. I was just trying to, to pay you back, I guess? Besides, you’re… really fucking cute, so…”

It's the exact same trick he'd tried on the guy inside, Cass realises. Make nice with the wolf and hope that it'll be kind when it eats you alive. It's too familiar and too close and aimed at him and Cass wants to retch. It's burnt sugar disgusting. The desperate need to stay safe, to keep everything calm. No matter the cost. No matter what you give away. 

"See, that is exactly what I fucking mean. Two seconds ago you were so mad at me you were basically screaming and now you're apologising and telling me I'm cute just so I'll..."

Cass breaks off, shakes his head, staring up at the hazy not-black of city sky at night. He shoves away the twin claws of rage and confusion as he meets Kauri’s eyes again, tries to keep his voice even and something close to calm.

"Look, I'm not- I'm not gonna say anything, alright? Whatever your deal is, I'm not gonna tell the cops or whatever" Cass tries for a smile "Trust me, I'd be just as fucked."

“Would you really?” Kauri blinks at him, no sign of that earlier flash of anger left, either in his posture or in his expression. He’d done what he’s best at, when it comes to being mad - just pushed it down until he didn’t feel it any longer, and he could see things from the other person’s point of view. Like understanding that Owen was mad because he’d tried to talk to someone when he wasn’t allowed, and that Dustin was mad because Kauri wanted more than he was willing to give, and the way everyone was mad that he wouldn’t sit still.

“And thanks. I won’t tell you what the reward for ‘information regarding my whereabouts’ is, though, if it’s all the same to you.” He tries for a small, slightly sidelong smile, more sincere than his last attempt had been. “Are you a runaway, too? Is there a reward out for you?”

Cass only barely stops himself from balking at the remark. Kauri says it so casually, like having a price on your head is just an everyday annoyance they might be able to bond over. Just all in a day. “Uh… no. No, there isn’t. I would just…” I would just have my contract re-assessed. Risk having my indenture reset. End up permanently locked in the lab. Or back in Christopher’s den.  “My, uh, employer wouldn’t be very impressed if you get what I’m saying”

He adjusts his grip on his arm subconsciously, thumb running over the scar that sits along his inner arm. He’s always sort of wondered if one of Tucker’s little chips is there, just sitting by his radial bone, too close to the artery to risk cutting out himself. Guess he’ll never know.

He snaps his attention back to Kauri. Matches the guy’s smile with his own.

“But a reward, huh? Fuck man.” he says. A lofty one at that, apparently. Kauri Grant. Maybe that’s why the name was familiar. He would’ve seen it on the TV or something. Jesus, he’d had to help the one fuckin’ guy with a more tragic backstory than him. He laughs a little, like this is just some sort of watercooler gossip. Mondays, huh? “What did you do, kill your keeper?”

"My, um, my owner. And… no, I-I couldn't-" Kauri's eyes widen with real horror at the thought. "No, I would never have… um, he was, wasn't always that bad… I probably, I just-... I mean I did fuck up, but I didn't hurt anybody." 

He looks away from Cass, a little uncomfortably, and says, "He, uh. Got mad when I fucked up. He broke a promise, and I… left. I guess you'd see it eventually, since there's no way I wasn't gonna take my shirt off for you."

He pulls down on the stretched-out neckline of his shirt, and even in the dim alley, a bit of a large, twisted scar shows over his collarbone. 

"He paid a lot of money for, for me. I wasn't supposed to be able to leave. I took out the thing he put in to control me."

[peaceoutofthepieces]

chapter 27.5 (part II)

When My Phone Turns Off

I’m making this a follow up to the last chapter, as it happens directly after yesterday’s fic piece and before today’s chapter (which will be posted very soon). I hope you enjoy!

Lucas wakes up to a weight over his middle and warmth all along his back. A smile is on his face before he’s even fully awake, and there’s a lightness in his chest he isn’t used to feeling. The bed he’s in is comfortable, the pillow soft under his head, and he’s warm and content and at ease. Even though the surroundings are unfamiliar, even though he didn’t shut his eyes until late into the night, he thinks it’s the best sleep he’s ever had. 

He leans back into the body behind him and the arm around his waist tightens. His smile widens and he finally opens his eyes, slowly twisting around in the embrace and coming face to face with a sleeping Jens. His lips part slightly around every breath, and his eyelashes are fanned over his cheeks. He looks delicate and young, more peaceful than he appears when awake. Lucas reaches out and traces a finger over his cheek. He moves it down along his jaw, then lightly across his bottom lip, Jens’s breath hot against his skin. He moves his hand up into Jens’s hair and twirls a slightly curly strand between his fingers, thumb skimming over his forehead and causing it to wrinkle. 

Jens scrunches his nose and makes a small, sleepy hum, eyes scrunching closed before blinking open slowly. They instantly settle on Lucas and shine with a smile before fluttering closed again. He pulls Lucas against him with the hand still around his waist, smile forming on his lips as he snuggles closer. Lucas grins and kisses his nose, moving his hand back down to his cheek. “Morning,” he says quietly. 

Jens nudges his nose against his cheek, nuzzling against his face until Lucas moves enough for him to tuck his face into his neck. Only then does he let out a content smile and mumble back, “Good morning.” Lucas laughs, but slides his arms around his shoulders, pillowing his head a little better. Jens kisses his neck in thanks and says, “I was kind of expecting to wake up in my own bed and realise I was dreaming.”

Lucas whispers, “Sorry to disappoint.” Jens’s fingers curl in the back of his shirt and he kisses him again, over his pulse point. Lucas makes a surprised noise when he bites lightly at the spot, tongue flicking out afterwards and brushing soothingly over the skin. Lucas tries not to react and instead teasingly asks, “Nice dream?”

Jens shakes his head, hair tickling Lucas’s chin, and then pulls back enough to look at him. “Best dream I could have is right next to me.”

Lucas’s smile is slow, and then colour is flooding his cheeks, and it’s much too early for him to respond to this with anything other than stunned, bashful silence. Jens smirks just slightly and Lucas grabs the pillow from under his head and presses it over his face, earning an instant muffled protest. Jens wrestles the pillow out of his grip and thumps it against his side in retaliation, smiling at Lucas’s laughter while he tucks the pillow back under his head. 

“That’s not how I expect to be attacked after complimenting you,” Jens informs him, already moving closer again. 

“No?” Lucas asks. Jens shakes his head, eyes falling to Lucas’s lips, which pull up in a smile before Jens is kissing him again. He sinks into it, even though his mouth’s cottony and his breath probably stinks and the whole thing should be gross. He doesn’t care, because Jens is in the same boat and he doesn’t care either. He kisses Lucas languidly, thoroughly, like there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing. He pulls away with the intention of telling Jens they should probably get out of bed, but Jens is immediately trailing another path down his neck, open-mouthed kisses that set his skin on fire. “Jens,” he protests. “If you leave a mark I’m not leaving this room today.”

He feels Jens’s smile. “I have no problem with that.”

Lucas breathes a laugh. “I mean it. That’s not how I want to be introduced to your friends.”

“You’ve already met them.”

“Half of them. And I don’t really want to see their reactions, either.”

Jens groans, but he stops kissing him in favour of flopping against his chest, tossing his leg over Lucas’s and his arm over his stomach, effectively pinning in place. “Fine, but you aren’t getting up yet. Too early.”

Lucas laughs. “None of that woke you up?”

“Shhhhh. This is the only morning I get before you leave me again. I’m spending it in bed with you.”

At that, Lucas can’t help but smile and relent, simply moving his hand back into Jens’s hair and accepting the weight of him for however long he wants. 

At least, he tries to, but it gets to a point where his bladder begins to protest. He pats Jens’s shoulder. “Okay, you’re gonna have to move now.” Jens gives a quiet whine of protest. “Jens, I have to pee. And we should get up anyway.”

Jens sighs, long and drawn-out, but he rolls himself off of Lucas and buries himself in his pillow. “Fine. I’ll be awake by the time you come back.”

Lucas doubts that, but he lets him be. He feels a little weird, stepping out of the room in just his t-shirt and boxers, but he’d made the mistake of only bringing jeans. He manages to slip to the bathroom and back without bumping into any other flatmates, however, and when he gets back Jens is already in his jeans and in the process of taking off his shirt. He looks over at Lucas as he tosses the garment on the bed, and Lucas averts his eyes with a mumbled, “Sorry.” 

Jens has no qualms about walking right up to him and hugging him against his bare chest, smirking smugly down at Lucas and kissing his cheek. “It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before. I’m completely aware of why you followed me.”

Lucas flushes. He’d shove him away if he thought he could set his hands on Jens’s chest without wanting to drag him back into the bed. “It’s true that it wasn’t for your skateboarding skills.”

Jens mock gasps. “How disappointing. And here I was thinking I’d earned a fan.”

“Oh, I’m a very big fan,” Lucas promises. Jens hums in question and he hums back, and then they’re lost in kisses again and Lucas forgets that he’s supposed to be getting them out of the room. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands, but eventually he gives in, sliding them over the smooth skin of Jens’s back as Jens’s roam through his hair. He doesn’t know how he’ll go home now and live without this, even if it’s only until the next weekend when one of them can travel again. He can’t imagine not waking up to Jens every morning, after only one night. 

This time, Lucas presses kisses along Jens’s jaw, leaving him soft and pliant in his hold before he steps away. “Okay, now you really need to put on a shirt and go join your friends or we really won’t make it out of here today.”

Jens narrows his eyes, tilts his head, considers him. “I don’t think you really want me to put on a shirt.”

“Jens,” Lucas warns. He picks Jens’s shirt out of his bag and shoves it at his chest, waiting with crossed arms until he pulls it over his head. 

“Fine.” Jens sighs, sneaks another kiss, then disappears with a grin, shutting the door behind him. Lucas smiles after him and takes a moment to bask in the feeling. 

He’s more content than he’s ever been. 

~^~

Jens enters the kitchen to find Robbe, Sander, and Milan already there. Milan is busy brewing coffee and Robbe is stood frying bacon while Sander stands next to him and distracts him with kisses. Robbe is the first to turn and greet him, smile lighting up as he offers a bright, “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Jens sits at the table and picks up a coaster, turning it around in his hands. He muffles a yawn as Sander turns to look at him with raised brows. 

“How was your night?” Sander questions, accepting the cup of coffee Milan passes him. 

Jens pulls a face at him. “Fine. Late, thanks to all of you.”

Jens had taken Lucas out as promised yesterday, giving him a short tour of some of his favourite parts of the city, ending in a small cafe with two plates of burgers and fries. It had been the first date, he supposes, liking the idea because they’d had fun. Lucas smiled almost the entire time, offering Jens his pretty laugh freely and stealing kisses whenever they felt like it. It’s the best day Jens has ever had. 

They’d gotten home later than planned, but the other boys were still wide awake when they got home, Robbe and Milan laughing in the sitting room while Sander made croques in the kitchen. Jens quickly realised it for the bribery it was, as he quickly lured Lucas in and began asking a hundred questions masked with an innocent smile. Robbe had also listened with rapt attention. Lucas wasn’t phased, sitting relaxed in his chair with Jens’s hand on his knee under the table. Jens watched Sander and Robbe melt quickly, intent gazes morphing into fond smiles as conversation turned into joking and joking into a mini party. Milan had broken out a disco light none of them knew he had and Robbe dug the alcohol out of the fridge. The instant Lucas had begun singing along to a Bowie song even Jens didn’t know, Sander was a goner. Robbe wasn’t far behind him. Once drunk, he’d also filmed the promised video with Milan, doing a mock serious interview of the man before both tried on every item in his closet. It was a video Jens was pretty sure would never see the light of day, but it was amusing nonetheless. 

“I like him,” Robbe says now, scooping the bacon onto a plate. “I’m glad it seems to be going well.”

Jens feels a smile take over his face and he ignores Sander’s knowing gaze, focusing his attention on the coaster balanced between his fingers. “It’s great,” he agrees. “I’m just hoping Moyo and Aaron don’t fuck it up.”

Sander snorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “I warned them to be on their best behavior. No hugs.”

Robbe laughs quietly and glances back at Jens. “It is great, but,” he hesitates. 

“But?”

Robbe sighs, taking a seat across from him and leaving Sander to watch the rest of the food. Milan sets two coffees between them and settles down next to Robbe, resting his chin on his hand. “But, he still thinks he has to give him the talk.”

Robbe gives him a look before turning back to Jens. “It’s just...I remember the last night you stayed over here. I’ve never seen you that upset, Jens. And I can’t forget that it was his fault.”

“Robbe,” Jens starts.

“I didn’t forget, either,” Lucas says. Jens looks up to find him stood in the doorway, expression as serious as he’s seen it yet. “And I don’t plan to. I’m trying to make it up. I know you’ve all watched the video, anyway, so you know I get that I fucked up. And I deserve, whatever talk you wanna give me and whatever doubts you have. I like you guys, and I want you to like me too, but I understand if it takes time. I’m actually kind of glad you’re still mad at me, because it proves how much you really care about Jens, and he deserves good friends. So,” he moves around the table, taking the seat next to Jens and bracing his elbows on the wood, lacing his hands together. “Hit me. Whatever you want to say.”

Robbe and Jens share a look, Robbe slightly surprised and Jens pleased. He gives Robbe a tiny nod, as if to say, ‘Go on’, and Robbe twists towards Lucas, determined. “Okay. It’s easy to say you want all these things, but now you’ve had to travel here and know what it’s going to be like, are you still serious about it?”

“Yes,” Lucas answers instantly. “If anything, it’s only made me more sure. I’m here as long as Jens wants me.”

That seems to satisfy Robbe, and after a minute of silence Jens says, “That’s all you can think of, isn’t it?”

Robbe sighs. “It’s not as easy as it sounds, okay? He covered a lot in the video. And I like him. I don’t want to be doing this.”

Lucas smiles like that makes him feel a little better as Jens reaches over to pat Robbe’s arm. Sander sets the plate of bacon in the middle of the table with more fuss than necessary, causing them all to look at him. “How about, you ever hurt Jens again, we’ll kill you, and because you’re probably cooler than he is, vice versa. Sound fair?” He directs this at Jens, who flips him off in response. He smiles brightly, drooping himself over Robbe’s shoulders and planting a kiss in his hair. “Voila. Talk done. Now eat your breakfast so we can go meet the others.”

It’s incredibly nice, being able to walk through the streets with Lucas under his arm, forced to pause occasionally for Sander to take a picture of something—even when Robbe’s hanging on his back like a koala. Jens is used to feeling like a third wheel next to all of their affection. It’s nice to be a part of it instead, to turn and press a kiss to Lucas’s cheek or ruffle his hair or share an amused smile at the other’s antics. 

Moyo and Aaron are already waiting for them at the skatepark, and they introduce themselves to Lucas with ease. Jens is relieved, for all of the five minutes it takes for Moyo to launch into another round of twenty questions, this time with the hope of improving their own YouTube channel. 

Lucas simply shrugs. “There’s nothing wrong with your videos. It just takes time. The more content you make the more often, the more easily you’ll get noticed. If you’re funny and good looking people will watch anything.”

“So if you use me,” Jens concludes. Moyo makes a face at him. 

Lucas gives him a smile and a little shake of his head as if that’s exactly what he meant. “For example, yeah.”

Moyo scoffs at Jens’s smug expression. “This doesn’t count, his opinion is biased.”

“He’s right, though,” Robbe butts in. “Jens or Sander as the promo image and everyone’s watching that.” Sander simply laughs and gives Jens a fist bump.

“Maybe you could endorse us,” Aaron suggests to Lucas, immediately earning himself a punch in the arm from Moyo. “No, but, it could be good for him too. Like a boyfriend video. Jens got like a thousand new followers overnight, anyway.”

Jens’s brow furrows. He only gets message notifications, so he hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t thought to check. His main reason for using his phone was with him for once. He was too distracted to even think about. “I did?”

“Uh, yeah? That’s what happens when your celebrity boyfriend tags you in his post,” Moyo teases. 

Lucas shakes his head. “I’m hardly a celebrity.” 

Jens reaches up and pinches his cheek, laughing when Lucas swats him away. “You’re a celebrity to us.”

Lucas grabs the lapels of his jacket and tugs him towards him where he’s sitting on one of the ramps. “‘Us’ or ‘me’?”

“Maybe just me,” Jens admits. “Hopefully.”

Lucas smiles and gives him a quick kiss, leaving Jens to pull him in for more, completely ignoring Moyo’s exaggerated cooing. At this moment, Jens doesn’t think about the fact that Lucas will be leaving in a few hours. He doesn’t think about the next vlog, or the mass of new followers on his Instagram, or the fact that he still hasn’t met Lucas’s friends or told his parents. He just kisses the boy he loves, in front of all his best friends, and lives in the now. 

[luvknow]

priceless | bang chan [1/2]

genre: rich kid!chan x fem!reader feat. rich kid!felix & rick kid!woojin ; friends-to-lovers ; fluff ; angst ; alcohol consumption ; crazy rich asians inspired summary: lucky you, you fall for the rich and powerful bang chan that every woman has their eyes on and he likes you back! but you get a taste of the luxurious life they all live in and you realize that someone like you isn’t meant to be with someone like him. wc: 12.9k a/n: two parts cuz this woulda been like 20k and i’m tired lol enjoy!

PART 2/2

Love at first sight was a horrendous idea. The thought of falling for someone the second your eyes met was absolutely terrifying. Of course this wasn’t exactly how it worked, but it sounded like sorcery, didn’t it? At least to Chan it did. He asked his father one time what it meant to feel so enamored by someone simply from the first encounter and he replied with,

“That’s just Hollywood mumbo-jumbo! Love takes time and it will come naturally, not right at the start. Love is patient. Just look at me - I’m patient with your mother all the time!”

So instead of expecting a spark with every person he met, Chan didn’t bother and let his feelings develop naturally. With every girlfriend he’s ever had, he let his heart take the lead and his mind, body, and soul followed shortly after.

Then he met you. Everything he knew about falling love went out the window. With you, love was not patient, nor was it kind, nor was it anything close to how it should ‘develop naturally’. It was a bullet train that hit Chan without remorse, crumbling every word and memory about what he thought love was supposed to be. It was unforgiving, with you two spending your entire college careers together as he watched you smile whenever you got your food, witnessed the stars in your eyes on your weekend nights together, and took note of the way your brows furrowed cutely when you were focused. The worst was when he had to sit there and listen about the guy you went on a date with or took back to your place. Love was truly unfair, and yes, he wasn’t so innocent on his side either, but how else was he supposed to distract himself from you? Surely partly-meaningless but healthy relationships with other women was much healthier than drowning in alcohol or whatever his inheritance-mooching friends did these days, wasn’t it?

Koi no yokan. It meant something along the lines of the type of feeling when you meet someone and you know that one day, you’ll fall in love with them. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, but it was inevitable. Chan hoped that was the kind of feeling you had when you met him. He hoped - he even prayed! - that the day you two met, you looked at him and thought, ‘he’s the type of man I could see myself falling for endlessly one day. Absolutely, positively ardently.’

Even when everyone around him and his ancestors above knew that you two couldn’t possibly be together, he’d find a way. Bang Chan always found a way.

After one thousand four hundred sixty days, multiple meaningless flings, and a couple of diplomas later, Chan continued to wait for that day to come.

four years ago:

You met Chan through your classmate-turned-friend Felix. It all started with some stupid class that was some elective you didn’t care about with a Professor who still believed in assigning partners for projects because college students weren’t capable of doing work on their own. Lo and behold, you were paired up with Felix, who wore an impossible amount of hyped-up designer brands, some of which you haven’t even heard of before. Of course you thought you were stuck with some rich, snobby, stuck-up inheritance-hogging brat who only went to college and majored in business so he could upstage all the other rich kids in his Daddy’s social circle, making him look like he was better than the rest of them for earning his inheritance. Surprisingly, that wasn’t all true. He was definitely trying to be The Top Heir, but he wasn’t a total dick. He was actually pretty nice for someone with a zillion dollars. That was the start of a beautiful and dynamic friendship.

“I can’t believe that’s what you really thought of me!” Felix gasped, clutching his heart at your insult. You tried to shush him from the nosy customers in the coffee shop, but he didn’t care. “You can’t judge a book by its cover, _____.”

“How can I not when you’ve rubbed your worth in my face since day one?” You took his Gucci x SUPREME collab black wallet with the signature GG logo and a Kingsnake painted on it that held four of his very heavy credit cards and shoved it in his face like he did with you and his entire existence.

“Yo, chill! The friction isn’t good for the credit cards!”

“I’m sure you have your emergency billion dollars stashed up in your penthouse suite just in case.”

“Yeah, but I hate carrying cash, so stop it,” he whined, snatching his wallet back. His phone vibrated on the table. “Oh, he’s almost here.”

“Who?”

“One of my friends. He asked to borrow the Versace belt you love so much.”

“You have two dozen Versace belts,” you scoffed. “Which one?”

“The one with the Barocco print.”

“English, Felix, English.”

“The floral one.”

“Oh my God, he wants to borrow that six-hundred dollar color-clashing mess!? Shouldn’t you people with money have some sort of fashion sense?”

“You are so mean. Stereotyping ‘my people’ is not cool, _____. Not cool! And my fashion sense is A-1!” he scolded, poking you harshly with his embossed fountain pen. “Can you at least try to be nice to him when he comes? You’re always so distant when you meet my friends.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Remember when you met Changbin?”

“Changbin told me he wanted to fly me to Paris to wine and dine me and rent a room in the Palace of Versailles like a Diamond-Grade prostitute, of course I try to stay far away from him!”

“But isn’t that the nicest thing a guy has ever told you? Isn’t it tempting to want to say yes? If I were you, I would’ve taken the offer.”

“Not surprised.”

It was then an impossibly handsome guy walked through the door. That had to be him because all of Felix’s friends were hot, but it was hard to tell. He wasn’t wearing anything ostentatious that screamed he was born into money (unlike your buddy Felix) nor did he wear anything that even resembled expensive brands. He wore all black, and though some items were stamped SUPREME, you couldn’t tell or at least recognize any other brands he wore. His fluffy, curly hair, cut jawline, kind eyes, and a warm million-dollar smile let you know he wasn’t like Felix’s other friends at all.

“_____, this is Chan, a family friend of mine. Chan, this is _____, the sole reason I haven’t flunked school yet.”

Chan was raised to judge every person he met by their looks and what they wore - it was an old habit his parents and grandparents embroidered in his brain, like silver thread on fine silk, that he was trying to get rid of since he started college. You wore nothing that indicated you were either from old or new money, nothing that said anything about your family name or bloodline, and no jewelry that looked like you inherited your great-great grandmother’s jewels that were gifted to her by a Prince. You were ordinary - quite possibly one of the only ordinary people he’s met thus far at this school.

Yes, you were nothing special material-wise, but you were pain-painstakingly stunning. How was that possible? Maybe it was your cute nose, or your pink lips, or the adorable way your brow quirked that caught his attention. Your curious eyes met his wide ones, sending his heart up to his throat, stopping him from breathing. It took him a minute to realize you had your hand out, waiting for him to connect. Quickly and awkwardly, he took your hand in his and felt his heart drop back into his chest cavity. But now he was sweating.

The effect you had on him was dangerous.

“Nice to meet you,” you said politely for the sake of Felix’s plea. The boy only nodded silently, trying not to look too affected by your infectious, beautiful smile. Great, another weirdo, you thought. Why were all the rich kids in this school so fucking weird!? Maybe it was your fault for accepting a scholarship to one of the country’s most expensive schools.

“Here’s the belt you requested.” Felix pulled out the belt a unicorn vomited on and handed it to Chan, who had snapped out of his trance. Your disgusted look doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he’s afraid you’re judging his choice in accessories. He wondered what kind of style you liked if you didn’t like this belt because all the upperclassmen born into old money that had girls falling on their knees had this belt. He’d have to ask Felix some other time.

“Thanks, dude. Mom said if I didn’t have Versace to wear at the charity event this weekend that she’d write me out of her will.”

So dramatic, you thought. You didn’t want to listen to boys talk about what pieces of clothing they had that cost more than tuition, so you sat back down and went back to studying.

“You owe me. Don’t get any champagne stains on it. And I better not see any wrinkles or stretches in the leather.”

“Yes, Dad. I can’t believe you let me borrow this. What are you gonna wear then?”

“I don’t know, something vintage probably, but I’ll figure it out. Got a date?”

“That’s requirement number two in order to stay in Mom’s will. I’m bringing Sana. What about you?”

“I’d rather go stag than bring some clingy arm candy to a simple charity fashion show. Unless _____ wants to be my date ~?”

“I’d rather die than be your arm candy,” you snorted.

To your dismay, Felix ruffled your hair playfully. “She hates it when I talk about this stuff. Don’t tell anyone I’m not bringing a date or else I’ll get kicked out, they’ll figure it out once I get there.”

“Gotcha. I’ll see you then.” After their bro handshake, Chan mustered up the courage to say, “It was nice meeting you, _____.”

“Nice meeting you,” you said in a sickly-sweet tone.

He saw right through you - you didn’t like him. He’s not sure why, when you barely talked to him for those two minutes he was there. Was he being too weird when you shook hands? Maybe he was talking too much about the show, since Felix mentioned you hated those kinds of talks, but why? Surely, you had to be used to this kind of stuff, right? Really, it shouldn’t bother him so much to know you didn’t like him already, but that famous Bang Pride coursed through his veins because everyone loved Bang Chan! It didn’t help that even knowing he didn’t need your attention, he was still so intrigued by you. To have those feelings not be reciprocated for the first time, to have you not eyeing him like you wanted him so badly, to you being completely disinterested at the simple mention of a high-class charity event that everyone was attending… It was exciting.

He accepted the challenge. He was going to win you over, whether you liked it or not.

“So what’d you think about Chan? He’s not so bad, right?” Felix asked before snatching up the last madeleine.

“He’s a little weird.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why, though...”

“You mean he’s not a space case all the time?”

“Not at all. If anything, he’s the one with the most confidence and focus out of our group of friends. Usually, people become a space case because of HIS presence, never the other way around. Did you cast a spell on him, or something?”

“I must have if I got one of your cocky millionaire friends to fall silent. I can feel the power in my veins.”

“Hey man, you better not flaunt that big ass head of yours. If word gets out that Chan was like that around a lil ol’ ordinary Olivia like yourself, you could be in big trouble.”

“You never warned me like this when it was Changbin. What makes Chan different?”

“Chan’s wealth has a long history. Like, really long. Almost pre-1800s long. His great-great-great-grandmother was one of the most well-regarded doctors in the country in her time. She was very well-off with the money she made, lived happily on her own, did her duty as a citizen and helped heal the soldiers during some war, and captured the heart of one of the most honored war heroes. Chan’s fortune began with a doctor and a war hero who gave birth to some inventor guy who married a luxury hotel heiress, whose history of wealth even I can’t trace back, and gave birth to the hotel heir that expanded its locations to eighteen different countries who then married the founder of a children’s charity, much to everyone’s surprise, and they gave birth to Chan’s grandmother, the sole heiress to the number one luxury hotel chain in the world. His Mom, who is currently sits at the head of the charity organization, is next in line. Then Chan gets to lead the organization until he inherits the hotels.”

Your brain struggled to wrap around Chan’s pedigree. “So he’s rich just like the rest of you.”

“Yeah, but he’s filthy rich. He’s been the Asia'’s most eligible bachelor under twenty-five twice in a row. What I’m saying is Chan is probably the number one most sought after guy slash son-in-law right now, and if anyone knows he’s taken even the slightest interest in you, they’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you two don’t happen.”

Well, that was terrifying. “God, this sounds like Cinderella on steroids. You better make sure we don’t happen!”

“I refuse to mess with fate, so this is all on you, babe.”

The F in Felix stood for Fake Friend.

Chan couldn’t find anything about you.

Google told him nothing, your social media showed him zilch, hell even his family private investigator only got as far as your great-grandparents owned a restaurant together which your grandfather and then your father happily took over. Really, he should have known from the start when he saw your clothes and lack of jewels that you didn’t come from the same background as him or Felix. This only made you more interesting.

After his thorough research on your social media and accidentally hitting the ‘add friend’ button (to which he shut his laptop and refused to look at the app for at least twenty-four hours out of pure embarrassment), you added him back only a couple hours later and he couldn’t stop the goofy smile growing on his lips. He felt like a little kid with a crush on his classmate! Your pictures were very silly, but you were still so pretty, and your captions were goofy with a touch of your wit peaking through and God, Chan had never been so struck by someone before, let alone by someone whose family history didn’t have their own Wikipedia page.

He needed to get to know you - to pick your brain, figure out your taste, and see that smile again. He needed to.

Poor Felix had to deal with texts like this:

issa banger [11:03 am]: wyd

yung felix [11:05 am]: eating lunch, why?

issa banger [11:06 am]: is _____ with you?

yung felix [11:09 am]: ??????????? no, why??

issa banger [11:09 am]: Read at 11:09 am.

And this:

issa banger [9:23 pm]: is that _____ in your snapchat?

yung felix [9:26 pm]: yeah u creep, we’re studying.

issa banger [9:32 pm]: what a coincidence, me too! i’m coming over.

yung felix [9:55 pm]: oop, she just left.

issa banger [9:47 pm]: ………..…. well i’m already here, so open the door.

And most recently this:

issa banger [2:15 am]: she’z sooiioioo cute felix…………

yung felix [2:17 am]: oh my god can u shut the fuck up.

This was all within one week of meeting you! Felix had to end this. He had never seen such a sad, desperate, puppy-loving side of Chan before, it was disgusting! What happened to the ‘I-don’t-care-about-love-I’ll-just-fuck-around-for-now-because-I’ll-probably-be-arranged-to-be-married-and-have-a-mistress-on-the-side-before-I’m-thirty’ Chan he knew since they were in diapers!? And like, no offense to you, but Chan was like this because of you, of all people, who came from a working-class family. The Bangs were groomed to date and marry only the best, so you two would never work out for even a day if it even got that far. But whatever, if meeting you again was all it took for Chan to stop bothering him, then so be it. You might kill him later for setting this up, but he’ll take the fall - anything to get his filthy rich and lonely friend to stop breathing down his neck.

fungus [5:43 pm]: hey u at the coffee shop?

you [5:57 pm]: yeah why?

fungus [6:01 pm]: i told chan to drop off The Versace Barocco-Print Belt with u if that’s cool

you [6:02 pm]: uuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh fine

fungus [6:05 pm]: thanks bro.

fungus [6:06 pm]: play nice ~ he’s a cool guy.

On cue, the ever-so handsome, front cover of GQ magazine, most eligible bachelor under twenty-five who added you on social media at three in the morning last week walked through the door. Again, he didn’t wear anything that stood out or any brands you didn’t recognize, so he didn’t necessarily look like he had any type of money Felix had informed you the first time, but the way he walked made up for it. Back straight, broad shoulders that swayed, chest out and peaking through the white satin button-up that was buttoned too low, flexed jaw and pursed lips that said ‘move, bitch’, and his expensive dress shoes that clicked and echoed on the floor, drawing the attention of everyone in the cafe. He may not have dressed to stand out, but that didn’t matter because he drew everyone’s attention anyways.

He paid no mind to everyone else because all of his attention was on you. The second he laid eyes on you was when his annoyed expression melted into a mix of something sweet and thankful.

“_____,” he greeted simply in his honey voice. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hi,” you said casually. “Likewise. Do you have the world’s ugliest belt with you?”

He chuckled lightheartedly, which sounded more like a cute giggle. “Is it really that ugly?”

“Too avant garde, if you ask me.”

Chan invited himself to a seat next to you. When you didn’t object or look noticeably disgusted by his presence, he took it as a sign that you welcomed his company. One foot through the door. “I’ll have you know it was a hit last weekend.”

“I’m sure anything you wear is a hit, even if it is something so atrocious.”

“It’s called couture.”

“I suppose my taste isn’t as high-class compared to your couture.”

“What is your taste?”

“I don’t think the lack of zeros in my bank account qualify me to answer this question.”

Another silky laugh escaped his curled lips. _____, stop looking there! “You don’t need to have a lot of money to know or have good taste.”

“There’s a whole world of clothing, food, and architecture that I didn’t know about before meeting Felix, so the expanse of my knowledge when it comes to a taste of anything isn’t as vast as those who do have a butt-load of money.”

“Even so, I happen to like your style.”

You did that cute little brow quirk he liked so much. “My t-shirt and jeans? You’re kidding, right?”

“What? I’m wearing a shirt and jeans, too.”

“Your shirt is made from the finest silk China could afford and mine is a mix of cotton and polyester.”

“Close enough. At least our jeans match.” Chan placed the belt free of champagne stains and leather wrinkles on the table. “Here’s your favorite belt of art that’s been passed around our friend group like a blunt.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait to hold something that’s touched nine millionaires’ crotches.”

“I bet,” he teased. “You look busy, so I’ll leave you alone.”

Normally, you’d be more than happy to bid a man farewell, but something came over you. “Actually, I’m not. Are you busy?”

“Me? No, why?”

“I’m kind of hungry. Would you like to join me for dinner?”

Chan had to stop his grin from growing. He couldn’t look too excited, or that would creep you out. And to think he doubted himself about winning you over. You even beat him to asking you out! “I’d love to. I know the perfect place.”

“I’m sure you know this by now from my impeccable style but please choose somewhere affordable.”

“This place is cheap, I promise.”

“Like two dollar signs on Yelp cheap?”

“One.”

“Now you’re talking my language, Mr. Chan.”

He’ll talk all your ‘languages’ - your food language, your money language, your love language - he’ll come to know all of them like the back of his hand.

Despite picking a place to eat for the both of you to enjoy without denting your bank account, Chan ended up paying for both of your meals with his black metal credit card.

“Hey, why’d you do that!?” you whined.

“I never let my friends pay when they’re with me.”

“Well, I’m not one of your money-hungry friends! I have pride and dignity! This means I owe you a meal next time.”

“Ok, it’s a date.”

Chan was making his way towards the door before you could fully process the exchange. A date? Oh God, was tonight’s dinner a date!? No way, right…? Out the door, you saw him chuckle at how confused your face must have looked and he ushered you with his hand to hurry and follow.

Smooth move, Mr. Chan… I’ll let that one slide.

two years ago:

Falling for Chan was effortless. After dinner the night he returned Felix’s belt, spending time together happened so frequently that you didn’t even notice how fast you were falling. You hate to sound cliche, but Chan wasn’t like all the other rich kids within their massive social circle. He didn’t flaunt his worth, he didn’t judge you for your lack thereof, nor was he some dumb ass kid going to school to just party and hook up every other night.

Chan was kind. He’d always put your needs above his, like wanting to pay him back for all the food he’d buy, but that got hard to keep up with real fast. He never wanted you to pay him back in the first place, but if buying him a cup of coffee would make you happy, then so be it. He’d always walk you back to your dingy apartment after dinner or drive you home in his blacked-out Ferarri after studying at the library so late because he worried about you walking alone in the dark. You fell faster on the days you were sick and he’d stop by with the best chicken soup in the city, packets of fragrant teas to chase the Nyquil, and the fancy tissues with vapor rub and soothing lotion. But he must do these kinds of things with all of his friends, because that’s the kind of person he was.

Chan was intelligent. He told you about his childhood spent in private schools with private tutors while playing sports and instruments and learning multiple languages and if he didn’t rank in the top 5% every year, he got his ass handed to him by his mother (fourth year of high school was rough). What amazed you even more was how he retained all of the languages and talent.

“I took five years of Spanish and I can speak at a child’s level,” you pouted. “How the hell do you know seven languages!?”

“Gotta learn the languages of where the hotels are located, y’know?”

“Of course…”

Chan was passionate. Not just about the charity work his family does, not just about the hotel business, but every little thing that interested him sparked a little fire inside. Chan put his mind, body, and soul into all his projects, his work, and everything he ever cared about. When he’s focused and has a goal in mind, he won’t stop until he gets it done and the execution is perfect. You thought it was kind of hot - the way his pupils dilated, the satisfied smirk after completing something, the dangerous little sparkle in his eyes… So hot.

It was the little things that solidified his place in your heart. All the times he tucked your hair behind your ears, when his hand was on the small of your back to guide you, and when his breath tickled your ear when he leaned in close to whisper were all little catalysts to your already-aching heart that beats for him.

What were you to do? You, a simple woman growing up nowhere near his and Felix’s type of lifestyle. You didn’t have diamond-encrusted pacifiers, or ten maids and nannies, or a yacht that you got on your eighteenth birthday. You lived a simple teenage and young adult life that you wouldn’t change for the world, yet you fell for someone who had everything served to him on silver platters and fine china. You thought that there was no way you two could ever work even if he reciprocated your feelings.

But he didn’t see you as the simple woman you saw in the mirror. He saw the extraordinary, goofy, diligent, beautiful you all the time. Your background or financial status didn’t matter to him. The way you smiled at him mattered; the way your hand lingered on his arm a little longer after you hit him for something funny he said mattered; the dreamy look in your eyes that you had whenever you looked at him mattered. Nothing else mattered.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” he asked you one evening while hanging out on his massive penthouse porch.

“Like what?”

“With your wide eyes and that soft little smile that breaks all the boys’ hearts,” he teased. “Did I do something? Am I that sexy?”

“Shut up,” you blushed. “I’m just thinking about how it’s weird being friends with you.”

“Why weird?”

“I don’t know. I’m not used to being around all of this.” Your arms widened to showcase Chan’s apartment that was at least ten times the size of yours.

“Ah, you mean my butt load of money. Even after two years of being The Dynamic Duo?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I just feel out of place, you know? I see the way some of your other friends look at me. It shouldn’t bother me so much, but I can’t help it. I feel like I don’t have the prerequisites to be your friend.”

“Who’s looking at you funny? Is it Bambam? I’ll kick his ass -”

“Stop, don’t kick your friends’ asses.”

“They just haven’t gotten to know the wonderful, thoughtful, dumb ass _____ yet.” Chan pulled you into a tight bro-like hug and ruffled your hair like a little kid to mask his rapidly-beating heart. “Don’t pay attention to them. You should know by now I don’t care about money.”

“But -”

“None of that about you matters to me, ok? Only you matter.”

You learned by now to not be affected by his poetic words, but tonight you fell back into your old habits. Only you mattered to him - that felt good. Feeling defeated by your dumb feelings, but comforted at the same time, you lazily wrapped your arms around Chan’s tiny waist as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“You’re so corny,” you muttered.

He ruffled your hair once more. “Only for you.”

It was then you thought to yourself that maybe this could work. Maybe falling for him wasn’t a mistake and being together wasn’t so far-fetched and being loved was something obtainable. For the first time, you thought having Chan by your side wasn’t as ridiculous as it seemed.

But of course, it wasn’t that simple. Nothing was simple when it came to Bang Chan. It was always out of the ordinary. Extraordinary. The night you realized you and him would never be was the same night you witnessed what life was like when you could drown in your own gold and jewels.

“Singapore?” you repeated to your two Aussie friends incredulously. “You’re going to Singapore just for the weekend?”

“We’re going to Singapore,” Chan corrected.

Felix called you and said to come over immediately because it was an emergency, which was Felix talk for ‘I have a trip in a couple of days and I need you to help me pick out my outfits.’ Really, you never actually helped with the picking process, he just wanted you there to tell him he looked good. So as usual, you sat in one of his oriental-style bright red cushioned chairs that were placed on both ends of the ten-by-ten foot mirror in his massive walk-in closet and Chan stood next to you, wondering how you ever put up with Felix’s outfit changes. Tonight wasn’t the usual packing agenda when they broke the news to you that yes, you were definitely joining them on a weekend trip to Singapore for Choi San’s birthday this weekend.

“I can’t afford that!” you screeched. “I can’t just book a flight and a hotel like this on the spot!”

“Oh, _____, you’re so cute ~” Felix teased, adjusting the collar on his shirt. “Like hell am I going to let us fly like the locals. We’re using my Dad’s private jet and staying in Chan’s private Black and White bungalow, of course. And none of us have to pay a dime.”

“But I don’t even know San like that.”

“You will this weekend. C’mon, it’ll be so much fun! It’s going to be the party of the century! He always throws the most extra parties.” 

“Even if I did want to go, I don’t have the clothes for it. I don’t own anything high-end like you guys. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“I already got that covered.” With his shirt half-buttoned, Felix ran to the other side of the closet to open a door you had never seen before. Inside of his bedroom, which held a 500 square foot closet, held a smaller 300 square foot closet. A closet within a closet - closet-ception, if you will. You didn’t have to go inside to see all the crystal-embroidered tulle gowns and the silkiest shirts that hung on black velvet hangers. “My older sister keeps her clothes here sometimes so Dad doesn’t see it. Just borrow some of her stuff.”

“I can’t just take her clothes!”

“Actually, she already picked out the ones she thinks would look best on you,” Felix showed you her incoming text messages as proof that one, you definitely had her permission to wear whatever you’d like and two, she thought you looked best in Valentino.

“Ooh, Valentino ~ I agree,” Chan piped in.

“I don’t know…” you hesitated. You could handle Felix and Chan and their riches when it was just the two of them, but to be surrounded by hundreds of people who had the same kinds of bank accounts? And you, floating among them in clothing that wasn’t even yours, faking your way into the social circle? It sounded like a suicide mission.

“You’ll have one of us by your side the whole time, we promise. We want you to meet our friends and show you that not all rich people are assholes like our parents.” Chan stuck out his lower lip and clasped his hands together like a kid begging for some ice cream. “Please come?”

Felix joined in with the begging and now you have two golden retriever puppies begging you to go on what should be a multi-million dollar vacation for the weekend with them, dressed to the nines twenty-four seven. You had to be crazy to not immediately scream yes, but the whole idea of this weekend was just terrifying. But you’d be with Chan, vacationing in a beautiful country, with him by your side. You couldn’t pass this opportunity up.

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat.

“Yes! Ooh, this weekend is going to be so much fun! Hey, we should all match for the party! _____, I know exactly what you should wear -”

Chan snickered at the excited boy pulling out piles and piles of clothes to dress his new life-size doll. You already deeply regretted your decision.

As Felix held up pastel-colored tulles and jewel-toned satins up to your body in front of the ridiculously-sized mirror, Chan couldn’t help but fantasize about the weekend. He already had it all planned out - you would take the front seat in his cherry-red convertible and breathe in the clean Singaporean air with the biggest smile on your face as you all pulled up to his Black and White bungalow, your eyes would widen at the decor, you’d claim the bedroom right next to his, you’d take tons of pictures and capture every moment together, eat the foods he grew up with when he spent his summers here, and then party ‘til the sun rose. You’d look so beautiful in whatever Felix chose, and you’d link arms with him like you two were together. Then you’d dance, drink, and laugh the night away in his arms for hours. Felix would probably stray away to find some poor soul to bother and that’s when it’d be just the two of you. When the party was too much to handle or the alcohol was too strong, he’d walk you home. If you were stumbling over little bumps, he’d pick you up and carry you the whole three blocks distance and you’d be so cute and giggly that he, too, couldn’t help but laugh because the warmth of your blushing cheek pressed against his made his heart ecstatic. Once you arrive home, he’d take you to the backyard and you two would stargaze or watch the sun rise, depending on how late you came home. You’d start out with some space in between. Then he’d get closer. Then he’d brush his hands against yours. Then he’d hold them, fingers laced loosely at first, hoping you’d squeeze back tightly. Finally, he’d confess that after two years of knowing you, he’s fallen for you harder every single day since he met you at the coffee shop. If you felt the same, then perfect, the night would end with a soft kiss. If you didn’t, he’ll run to the pier and sail his yacht all the way back home and claim he was blackout drunk, or something.

Yeah, that sounded like a solid plan. What could go wrong?

It was six in the morning when you were dragged out of bed and thrown into Chan’s Ferrari. Felix’s private jet only had you, him, and Chan as passengers. You thought for something as big as a damn plane that maybe the whole friend group would be tagging along, but apparently they insisted on flying on their own and leaving a larger carbon footprint, but hey you weren’t surprised in the least. That just meant less arguing over what to watch on the eighty-inch flat screen and more champagne for the three of you.

“Holy shit,” you muttered after taking the middle seat in front of the television.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Felix boasted, hopping on the seat to your left. “Have I not introduced you to JASMINE before?”

“I think I’d remember if I’ve been on your private jet before.”

“Ah, maybe I’m remembering the time you went on my yacht, ROSEMARY.”

Chan joined in to your left with a handful of flute glasses filled with bubbly, golden champagne and a single raspberry at the bottom for you and Felix. He raised his glass in celebration. “Cheers to the weekend.”

“It’s six thirty in the morning,” you groaned tiredly.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“You can’t keep using that excuse, Chan, your liver will fail you one day.”

“A wise man once said YOLO, my dearest _____, so let’s drink to that!”

“Ugh… cheers,” After taking a sip, your face twisted sourly. “Oh, that’s not good…”

“It’s terrible, but it gets the job done.”

“You’re both crazy, I love this stuff,” Felix said, chugging the whole glass. “Forget water, make sure only champagne and 1738 course through my veins for the next two days.”

For the duration of the six hour flight, the three of you watched one horror movie (to which Felix cowered under his fluffy monogrammed blanket) and one romantic comedy (to which Felix cried while holding his Rilakkuma bear). Then after the smoothest plane landing you’ve ever experienced, you finally landed in the beautiful country of Singapore. The skies were so blue, the skyline was gorgeous, hell even the airport was voted the most beautiful airport in the world. A red convertible pulled up to the three of you waiting at the arrivals section and the driver tossed Chan the car keys. As the driver put your luggage in the back of a separate car, Chan opened the passenger seat open for you like a gentleman.

“Your chariot awaits, my darling,” he smiled cheekily. “Her name is Cherie.”

“Do all rich people name their motor vehicles?”

“Of course, it’s only right.”

The crisp afternoon air felt good flowing between your fingers. Chan caught glimpses of your smile and knew then that inviting you to this weekend was the best decision he’s made concerning you. His plan was going swimmingly thus far - now to survive the next couple days.

The Black and White house was quite literally a Black and White house, but it was nothing close to being monotonous. It was a beautiful symmetrical white bungalow with black trimming and a tanned overhanging roof. All of the shutter-style windows were wide open, allowing the same beautiful breeze to pass through the house, wafting the smell of fresh scones and muffins as you walked through the door. The inside of the house got more extravagant with every step you took. The walls were all white (porcelain white, not daisy, of course), the tiles a glossy pearl, every corner filled with the greenest potted plants and too many antique potteries to count, high ceilings with a crystal chandelier dropping in the living room, and a deep mahogany wood door that led to the backyard that overlooked the entire city.

“You vacationed here in the summer!?” you gasped.

“Yup, every year.”

“It’s beautiful!”

“You should see Changbin’s bungalow,” Felix interjected. “He demanded the house to be repainted black instead of the classic white.”

“My childhood summers were spent on my grandparent’s farm. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to wake up every morning to freshly-made scones and fruit jam.”

Chan led you up the stairs to show you the bedrooms. You lost count of how many there were by the time you got to his. His room was enormous, with a king-sized bed right in the middle covered in the fluffiest white covers. He had his guitar and other music-related toys on one wall of the room with a soft yellow neon sign that said ‘CB97’ mounted high on the wall with posters beside it. His room was decorated very Chan-like, and you thought it was quite charming.

“I didn’t like being by my siblings, so I asked to get the one at the very end and the spares were used whenever Felix and the guys came over. Felix’s is across the hall and your’s is the one next door.”

“Ah yes, Chan’s room - where all the magic happened,” Felix teased, jumping on the bed. “I’ve heard way too many stories about the girls you’d take up here -”

“Ah ha ha ~! No need to relive that!” Chan blushed deeply.

“You’re suddenly shy about it now? You sure didn’t have any problem boasting about it every summer.”

“That was so long ago.”

“Please, two years was not that long ago. Didn’t you come her last year, too? God, who knows what happened then.”

Your heart sunk. So he’s taken girls up here before. A lot of girls, according to Felix, and by the way Chan blushed from embarrassment, he wasn’t denying it, either. It wasn’t right for you to feel jealous, you didn’t even know him during those times, unless he had a fling last summer that no one knew about. No, it definitely wasn’t right for you to feel jealous, but the burning in your chest was a little difficult to ignore at one in the afternoon.

“Gross,” you say as light-heartedly as you could. You left sourly without another word to unpack your belongings.

Fuck. Damn Felix and his big ass mouth! You probably thought he was a disgusting playboy now. This was one of several things Chan was afraid of when you were introduced to this side of his life - that his scandalous, rebellious past would come back to haunt him and hit you in the face and you’d be so turned off by it. Well, that’s exactly what happened, not one hour on the island. He couldn’t help that he was a horny teenager back then! Chan chucked one of the embroidered silk pillows at his cowering childhood friend before hastily following you.

You held up a jewel-toned satin piece that Felix chose from his sister’s closet. It was different than the one chosen a couple of nights ago (“_____, I change my mind, wear this one instead.” “Wha - Felix, we’re leaving in ten minutes!” “Just trust me!”), but Chan thought this one suited you much better. The look on your face said you thought otherwise.

“Not a fan of Valentino?” he teased.

“Quite the opposite. I think it’s beautiful, it’s just I don’t think it’ll look beautiful on me.”

“Nonsense. You look beautiful in anything.”

“There’s no need to lie.”

“Who’s lying? You look especially dashing in t-shirt and jeans.”

“My impeccable sense of style,” you giggled. “Is the party tonight really going to be this fancy? Isn’t it just a house party?”

“My dear _____, it’s not just any house party, it’s the house party,” Chan corrected. “San owns the biggest Black and White bungalow in the country. He decks it out to the max with unnecessary decorations, hires Singapore’s multi-Michelin star restaurants to cater, ships in expensive wines and spirits, and hires those exotic dancers that hang from the ceiling. San’s parties make international headlines, and this one’s extra special because it’s his birthday, so yes, fancy is just an understatement.”

“Yeah, I really don’t belong here…”

“Don’t worry about it for now. What we need to worry about is lunch, ‘cuz I’m starving.”

“Hey, I’m gonna be with Jisung and Changbin until the party. I’ll just see you guys there,” Felix waved off casually.

“Guess it’s just you and me.” Chan hoped he didn’t look too glad Felix was gone. “I want to take you to a restaurant I always ate at in the summer.”

“How many dollar signs on Yelp?”

“Not telling ‘cuz I’m paying.”

“Chan, you ass, you said you’d make things even from now on!”

“A man just wants to fly his friend to a whole new country and treat her to his favorite restaurant, is that too much to ask for!?”

You didn’t answer while following a happy-go-lucky, skippy Chan to his red convertible. You’ve never seen him so happy before. He must have missed being on the soil that held his summer-y childhood memories. Being in the hot sticky sun in the house he loved the most with the widest, dimple-iest smile on his cute lips let you know that Chan was at home. Spending every moment with him for the next two days watching his smile grow as he revisited memory lane would make it hard for your heart to stop fluttering.

It was no more than a ten minute drive from his house, but from where you parked, you couldn't spot any restaurants.

"It's a bit of a hole in the wall. I hope you don't mind walking a bit."

"Not at all! The best places to eat are always hidden well."

The surrounding area reminded you of the more crowded and space-efficient parts of home. The buildings were all kind of squished together with tiny alleys in between and there was a ton of foot traffic, but it was probably because it was the weekend. You almost lost track of Chan until he grabbed onto your hand and guided you through the sea of locals.

"It's a little overwhelming if you haven't been here before," he said apologetically. "It's worth the journey, I promise."

"You used to come here a lot over the summer?"

"Almost every day. The woman who runs the place was like another grandmother to me. She is the sweetest thing. Oh, there she is!"

Chan sharply turned the corner of the street and you were taken to a whole other dimension. It reminded you of the beginning scene in Spirited Away when Chihiro and her parents stumbled upon the empty street filled with different tents of food, only this time you couldn't even see past the second tent. Even in the daytime, a place like this seemed so magical that it was no wonder a kid wanted to come here everyday. The different spices and aromas marinated in the air and it was so heavenly, you couldn't wait to get a bite! Somewhere in the middle, the tent that Chan had been dying to go to all year round was right where he left it.

"Auntie!" Chan called from the back of the endless line.

"Eh?" A cute little woman with a floral bandanna and red apron squinted in your direction. The second she saw Chan's handsome face, her grumpy expression smoothed to that of a grandma seeing her grandson grow so much in just a single year. "Channie! You're back for the summer!?"

"Just for the weekend, auntie."

She didn't miss a single beat as she continued to serve her loyal customers. "Ah, you're too busy to visit me everyday now, huh?"

"Sadly, yes," he pouted.

"You want the usual, Channie?"

"Yes, please! Can you make that two?"

"Eh?" Again, the little woman squinted in your direction. Chan had let go of your hand and placed them on your shoulder, indicating that you were his guest of honor this afternoon. A teasing twinkle gleamed in her youthful eyes. "Ah, I see ~"

Chan didn't deny her teasing. He didn't say, 'nah, it's not like that' or say 'she's just a friend'. Instead, he hung his head down embarrassingly, his grin not faltering, neither yours. You wondered what he was thinking.

The line was long, but it moved quickly when Chan was by your side telling you stories of his childhood spent with Felix and his other friends making a ruckus in the streets and buying up all the meat skewers until not a single shop had any left.

"Jeez, growth spurt much?"

"Hey, a man's gotta eat, ok?"

Finally, it was your turn in line, and the Queen of the shop already had two plates full of noodles slathered in a dark, sweet-smelling sauce and two large styrofoam cups.

"Channie never ate anything else besides my kway teow noodles,” Auntie told you. “The first few years of eating it as a little boy, he thought there were no vegetables, so I never told him there were any because it was the only way he'd eat them - covered in my special sauce.”

"No need to relive my unhealthy childhood…" he muttered while you laughed.

"It's fine now, since you've grown up to be so~o handsome!" she pinched his chubby cheek. "Finally, you have yourself a girlfriend. 'Bout time! Even San beat you! But that’s no surprise, the ladies love that bad boy."

"O-Oh, we're not…!" you stuttered nervously, unable to finish your sentence. She really was like an embarrassing auntie…

"We're not together like that," Chan concluded. “She’s just a close friend.”

She scoffed incredulously. "Yeah, for now."

"Auntie!"

She ignored her favorite customer’s whining and turned to you once more. “Watch out for this playboy, he’ll be hard to tie down.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Chan needed to get you out of there before any more of his past was brought up. So much for his stellar, fool-proof plan. He handed Auntie what looked to be a lot of money, but you’re not sure what the conversion is to their dollar. A quick kiss on her cheek and he whisked you away. “Bye, Auntie! Love you!”

“Visit me more often, you stingy brat! And by, sweetheart, it was nice meeting you!” she called out sweetly.

Chan hastily grabbed one of the wooden benches just outside of the long street of vendors. He seemed quite relieved to have left his favorite food stand before Auntie revealed too much of the past summers. Your feelings clashed with a sense of jealousy and a bit of pride that she thought you were his girlfriend. Yet again did you have to remind yourself that no, _____, you cannot be jealous, you dumb ass!

“Sorry about that,” Chan sighed. “She doesn’t have a filter.”

“I like her. She’s very spunky,” you laughed. “Does she do that to all the girls you bring to her?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“It seems like she’s met a few of them.”

“I’ve told her stories, but I’ve never brought any of them to this place. Now that I think about it, you’re the first girl I’ve brought to her. That’s probably why she thinks we’re serious.”

“Really? Why’s that?” You took your first bite of the savory-sweet noodles. It’s chewy, glutenous gold. “Holy shit.”

“Crazy good, right? Auntie makes them the best. And you’re asking why I never brought anyone else here?” You nodded silently, too preoccupied stuffing your face with Chan’s childhood favorite dish. “This place holds a special part of my childhood. I can’t just bring anyone here.”

“What’s makes it so special?” You took a sip from the styrofoam cup. It’s sugarcane juice!

“When I was a kid, I didn’t come here to bask in the sunlight and play at the beach all day. I’d go to summer school during the day where I was taught math and economics at least two grades ahead of me and attend Mom’s business and charity meetings in the evening. I was always so tired, no matter what time of day it was. One time, I was being so bratty and was crying so much from all the unwanted stress and my parents didn’t like it because I’m supposed to be the Charity Chairman’s perfect son and the perfect heir to the hotel franchise, you know? But I just wanted to be a kid. My family got so mad at me for being selfish that they kicked me out of the house for the night without dinner and I couldn’t come back until the morning.”

“That’s crazy! Where did you sleep!?”

“The pool house behind the main house,” he stated obviously.

“Oh, of course. Silly me.”

He threw his crumpled-up napkin at you before continuing. “That’s when I met Auntie. I was crying and wailing and sobbing like a baby on a Wednesday evening, so it wasn’t busy and no one really saw me. I sat at this very bench with my head down crying until I could fall asleep because I really didn’t want to return home. Then I felt someone nudge me awake. It was Auntie, and she gave me a bowl of curry with some paratha and I thought, ‘an old lady wouldn’t try to poison me, right?’ So I inhaled that whole bowl and chugged all of the chocolate Milo. I tried paying her with all the cash I had because I was so thankful, and she couldn’t believe a young kid like me had so much in the first place, but she never took it. I came every week to order from her and she remembered me every time. I tried everything on the menu by my tenth visit, and the kway teow is my favorite. I’d come here after a rough day with my parents, after I failed an exam, after I cried over some girl I had a crush on, after I found out my Dad had a mistress, you name it. Sometimes I came for no reason at all - I just didn’t want to be home.”

A shaky sigh escaped Chan’s lips. His eyes were glossy and it broke your heart to see Chan on the brink of tears, but he’s smiling. His upbringing was rough, but he’s smiling because he wouldn’t have survived his childhood without the spunky woman behind the food stand in the middle of the street. You dared to reach across the table and hold his hand, hoping he’d find some comfort in your touch. He does, and you know so by the way he squeeze it back so tightly. There were no more tears in his eyes.

“This place was my secret hideout for a good chunk of my life. I can’t just bring anyone here.” Chan began to trace little circles on the back of your hand.

“What am I if I’m not just anyone?”

“Special,” he replied. “To me, you’re special.”

The air was filled with your cute giggles and you took your hand back to cover your blushing, glowing face. Chan always had a way with words. “You’re a cornball!”

“I’ll have you know that the ladies love cornballs!”

“Not this one.”

“Oh, hold still, you got a little of the dark sauce on your cheek.” Chan leaned over the table with a napkin in his hand as you sat still. The very last second, he drops the napkin, scooped up a hefty dollop on his finger, and smeared it on your cheek.

“EW!”

“That’s what you get!”

Your special man began running to the car with you on his tail laughing like two young lovers on their honeymoon. Both of you failed to see someone taking pictures as they sent them to San’s entire guest list.

“Bro, you look hot.”

You jumped at Felix’s comment and chuck a pillow at his almost-shirtless torso. He had a weird habit of not buttoning up his shirts until the last minute. One of his many idiosyncrasies. 

“Chill, that’s a compliment! Didn’t I pick out a hot Valentino piece? Chef kiss, m’lady.”

“You’re so gross… But you do have taste, so thank you. You really didn’t have to ask your sister to let me borrow this, though. I still feel terrible.”

“Shut up, you’re fine. She’s never going to wear that, I promise you. Besides, I can’t have someone not wearing designer stand next to me, that’d be blasphemous.”

“Can you please button up your shirt?”

“Why? These Hawaiian Sweet Rolls too much for you to handle?” he teased, flexing his six-pack. You dry heaved dramatically.

“You two are like siblings, it’s so funny - whoa,” Chan stopped mid-sentence, completely stunned by your presence. Of course he’d love how you looked if you wore a hoodie and jeans because he never even imagined you wearing something like this, but you blew him away.

“Good whoa or bad whoa?” you panicked.

“Definitely a good whoa… U-Uh, I mean, yeah. Yes.”

“Thank you,” you grinned. You eyed the man in the black and gold polka-dotted Muslin Yves Saint Laurent button up (buttoned too low, as usual) tucked loosely in Yves Saint Laurent cuffed trousers. Certainly, Chan was bound to be the center of attention at one point, regardless of whose birthday it was. Felix sported Louis tonight and you thought to yourself that you three were quite a sexy trio. “You two don’t look too bad yourselves.”

“Straight from the runway,” Felix boasted.

“Straight from my closet,” Chan shrugged.

“Can we get drunk before I cry about how much money I don’t have?”

Chan’s driver sported a white Rolls Royce to take you all there, despite it being only three blocks away (Felix was more than happy because he didn’t want to scuff his shoes). You thought you were fashionably late, but it turns out San was just showing off his cars and leaving them parked on the circular driveway. The size of his house made the cars look so, so tiny, but his house was truly enormous, way bigger than Chan’s. Couples among couples began to file in the house, making you feel nervous and very, very single.

“Do people usually bring a date to these parties?” you asked the boys.

“Yeah, for clout. Two shots later and suddenly everyone’s up for grabs,” Felix explained, walking up the driveway without waiting. “I’ll see y’all back at home. Or not. Don’t wait up for me ~”

When Chan saw that what Felix said didn’t lessen your nerves one bit, he held his arm out for you. “Wanna be my date for tonight?”

“You won’t ditch me after two shots?”

“Two, no. Five, maybe.”

How could you deny his dimpled grin? You couldn’t, so you slipped your arm through and walked into San’s palace. You were taken to a whole new world; a whole new dimension of luxury and riches that you only tapped into upon landing here. There was indeed dancers twirling on ribbons from the ceilings, loud music from some famous DJ that headlined at EDC, and liquor of every shade of gold in crystal glasses. Everything was so magnificent and expensive, it was like you couldn’t even afford to look at anything or even anyone. Everyone who was anyone was here, and you recognized a lot of their faces from Chan and Felix’s social media. You couldn’t even pronounce the brands they were wearing! Again, Chan sensed your anxiousness, something he was so unbelievably good at, and slipped his arm down so that he could grab on to your hand. He figured if you were able to let all his past worries go away by just holding his hand across the table that he could do the same, only this time he was by your side like he always wanted to be. You always predicted that his hand would fit so nicely in yours.

“CHAN! MI AMIGO!” San screamed into the mic from the dance floor. “Everyone, the sexiest bachelor of the hour has arrived!”

“Oh, boy,” he sighed.

He was surprised to hear you giggle at his friend’s nickname. “Looks like we came a little late.”

San stumbled in front of you before falling into your arms for a tight hug. You weren’t used to such an affectionate San - you shared multiple classes with him and you’re surprised he even remembered you, if you were being honest.

“Happy birthday, San,” you struggled to say as you held the boy up.

“Hi, _____! Thank you! I’m so glad you’re here!” San’s foxy eyes widened at the sight of his questioning friend. “Chan! I missed you!”

“Miss you, too, buddy,” he chuckled, hugging the sloppy man. “Happy birthday, bro. Making Mina work hard, I see.”

“Why, do you see her!? Don’t tell her you saw me!” And that was the last time you saw San.

Chan shook his head at his childhood friend. Then he took your hand and lead you deeper into the party. “Let’s go find people we actually know.”

As you slipped between the crowd, you felt eyes staring. A bunch of eyes, actually. A lot of them. The owners were mostly girls, ones you recognized, and that’s when you knew it was because of Chan, the bachelor of the century. They eyed you maliciously, switching between judging you from what you were wearing and your hold onto Chan’s hand. Where was that handsome waiter with a tray full of shots? You needed that right about now.

On cue, Chan handed you liquid gold. “Cheers to a fun night.”

“Right… Cheers.” Bottoms up! Oh God, that burned! But the warm finish was quite nice. “More, please.”

“Jeez, what for? You trying to leave me after two shots already?” he teased.

“No, I’m just trying to blind myself from all those… eyes…”

“Huh?” Chan caught a glimpse of what you meant when he caught the eyes of familiar flings and old friends. His jaw clenched. “Don’t worry about them, ok?”

“I’m trying, but you’re holding me back if I can’t take at least one more shot.” Reluctantly, your handsome date gave you what you wanted and he followed suit. “Bottoms up!”

Bottoms up indeed, several times too many, if Chan thought so himself. But you were loosening up and not worrying about another thing he feared about this trip - that you would meet his exes, or worse, they would do something to hurt you because that’s just what girls with tons of money do. He soon forgot about all his worries when you dragged him on the dance floor and had your body pressed up against his. You were so goofy and cute when you were drunk just by itself, singing to all the songs and taking silly selfies, but when you were dancing? He could hardly keep his hands off of you.

Chan pulled away and you pouted, not wanting the warmth of his body to leave even for one second, but he told you he had to go to the bathroom and that he’d be right back, so don’t you move! But your intoxicated self didn’t listen and you found yourself wandering to the backyard where Hyunjin, Woojin, and a bunch of people you were familiar with gathered around the open-pit fire and having a little party themselves.

“Did _____ get her Rich Bitch ID?” Hyunjin teased, looking at the label of your dress. “Shit, I guess she has.”

“It’s Felix’s sister’s, so no, it’s just a fake ID to last me the night.”

Woojin swung his arm around you boyishly. “You’re always welcome to OUR Rich Bitch club. No cover for girls,” he winked.

“How generous of you.”

Chan didn’t take long in the bathroom. He made sure to come back to you as quickly as possible to pick up where you left off, but after a couple of minutes searching the crowd, he couldn’t find you. He’s not surprised you wandered off somewhere, he just wished you sent him a text, or something. He felt a tap on his shoulder, thinking it was you, but it ended up being Sana, his old fling.

“Channie!” she squealed happily, throwing her arms around his neck. “I missed you ~!”

“Hey, I missed you, too,” he hugged back awkwardly. “Long time no see.”

“I’m glad the feeling’s mutual. Whatcha doing?”

“I’m just looking for someone…” he said, continuing to scan the crowd like she wasn’t there. He shouldn’t have drank so much…

“You mean _____?”

How did she know your name? Not important. “Oh, yeah. Have you seen her?”

“She’s outside with Woojin.”

“With Woojin…?”

“Yup! Take a look.”

Sana took Chan by the hand and lead him to the back door. His tunnel vision, though quite blurry, found you with your back facing the door and Woojin, his childhood rival, to your right, where he had his arm around your shoulder. Oh, he was such a Kim! He always snatched whatever was his when he wasn’t looking, just like that modelling contract! Normally, Chan would be the bigger person and not care, but this was you, someone so important to him. He couldn’t let this go that easily. There’s this uncharacteristic rage and jealousy that built up in his chest, making his heart hurt with every beat. You weren’t even doing anything, but seeing you in someone else’s arms just as he left for the damn bathroom? After trying to make you his for so long? It hurt. It really, really hurt...

Sana took the opportunity to pull him away from you. “Hey, let’s dance. Like we used to.”

Without hesitating, Chan took the lead and went to the dance floor.

Time passed like it meant nothing while you caught up with some good friends, but sobriety was kicking in at three in the morning and you wondered how long Chan needed to go to the bathroom.

“I’m going to find my damn date,” you waved off to them.

Even at three in the morning, the house was still as crowded as ever, bumping music like the sun wasn’t going to rise in a couple of hours. You searched every room, every face on the dance floor, near every waiter that had a platter of liquor on it, and he was nowhere to be seen! Even the rooms that held couples making out (and then some) luckily didn’t have him in it, but where could he be? You ended up in the front yard last, perhaps he was looking at San’s cars, or something.

But that wasn’t where you saw him. At the end of the driveway, where it met the main street, you saw Chan walking some girl dressed in diamonds and crystals on the way back to the house.

That was the moment you knew you and Chan could never be. Even when he was with you for ninety percent of the night, he chose someone else. He was made to live his life in luxury, and that meant his love life was meant for luxury, too. No matter what you did, no matter how much you thought he liked you, how much you thought you were special to him, you could never live up to any of these other women at this party. You were nothing compared to them because you had nothing. You should have known better than to think otherwise.

“Hey,” you heard someone behind you. It was the ever-so handsome and dashing Woojin. Even in the dead of night, he looked so handsome. “Did you find Chan?”

“Um…” your voice was shaking. “Yeah, I think I saw him go home.”

From the tears in your eyes, Woojin assumed he didn’t go home alone. Typical heart-breaker Chan, always leaving girls behind to cry over him. Things never change. “Do you want me to walk you back?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

You and Woojin walked the three blocks in silence. There was a considerable amount of space in between as Woojin figured you didn’t want any man to be near you at the moment. Of course he understood - he’s had a fair share of his heart-breaking days. Those days were now over because he was getting tired of this lifestyle. His liver didn’t function like when he was younger and he craved something deeper than just one night stands. God, he sounded like a total douche.

The walk up Chan’s porch made you nervous and made Woojin nostalgic. He remembered coming here everyday after summer school when he was a kid. He kind of missed it here. Woojin was about to knock on the door but stopped when he realized you weren’t beside him. You stood by step, not wanting to go any further.

“Everything ok?” Woojin asked.

“Yeah… No. Not really. I don’t want to go to bed.”

“Why not?”

“Our rooms are next to each other and I don’t know how thin the walls are.”

Woojin didn’t laugh nor try to convince you otherwise. Instead, he walked up to you and stopped so close that you could smell his Gucci The Voice of the Snake cologne. Then, he smiled sweetly, a trait of his that you always thought was so cute, and sat on the stairs.

He patted the seat next to him. “I’ll keep you company.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t want to go home and I really don’t want to go back to the party.” His bottom lip pouted. “Please let me keep you company.”

You could use the distraction. “Even without trying, rich people get whatever they want.”

“Hey, we’re not all bad!”

“That’s what they all say,” you slurred, remembering that’s exactly what Chan said earlier.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’re pretty bad.”

“Maybe I should stop hanging around you guys and start hanging around my people.”

“But I like hanging out with you.”

“You know, before I met Felix and Chan and all your little yacht club friends who make fun of me for the clothes I wear -”

“Hey, that’s just Hyunjin, don’t lump us together like that! I like you no matter what you’re wearing.”

“- my life was so much simpler! I lived a simple life without luxury, I ate foods without truffles and caviar, I drank cheap soju like a regular poor delinquent instead of champagne and top-shelf liquor, and I didn’t like boys whose yearly income were worth ten times as much as I’d make in ten years!” You cried out to the skies above and buried your face in your hands. “Biggie was right… Mo Money Mo Problems…”

“There there…” Woojin comforted awkwardly.

“Woojin, can you be honest with me for a sec? Coming from a sad, average girl seeking advice from a rich bitch like yourself?”

“Of course.”

“Was I stupid to think I was anything special to Chan?”

Again, the handsome man beside you wrapped his arm around your shoulder like a good friend. Woojin was always a good friend to you. Outside of Felix and Chan, he was the only other man who was kind, despite you not being like the rest of his social circle.

“You said I can be honest, right?” he asked nervously.

“Oh my God, I’m an idiot.”

“Hey, that’s not what I was going to say. I was thinking naive was more of an appropriate word choice.”

“I’m so dumb, I might as well drop out.”

Woojin’s grip around you tightened. “Stop, don’t say that. You’re the smartest person I know, did you know that? Remember when you tutored all of us that one time? If you can tutor nine idiots in one session and we all somehow passed the class, you’re not an idiot.”

“Being book smart and Rich Boy smart are on two totally different levels of intelligence! Why am I so dumb in the latter!?”

“You aren’t. We’re the dumb ones. We let amazing people slip through our fingers because somehow this lifestyle sucks us back in. Some of us are able to overcome it, but most succumb to it.”

“... You’re right, you guys are the dumb ones.”

You and Woojin sat on Chan’s summer Black and White bungalow for hours, talking about the most useless things until the sun rose above the horizon and the light was almost blinding. It started out crying about how boys were stupid and ended with laughing until you couldn’t breathe from the stories he told you about his old flings.

“She said the mitochondria was the trap house of the cell,” Woojin tisked.

“She must have been kidding.”

“I can assure you she was not.”

“Wow,” you giggled. “You’ve dated a lot of… exciting people.”

“I wouldn’t say exciting…”

“Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I heard about some poor girl coming out of your place from Felix. He likes to whine about how lucky you are. Has Woojin lost his touch?”

“I will never lose my touch, don’t get that twisted,” he warned. “Maybe I’m tired of hook-ups. Maybe I’m trying to settle down.”

“Ha! Good one!”

“No, really!”

“Yeah, ok ~”

“Let me prove it. Let’s go on a date.”

Your laugh got caught in your throat. You’re stunned silent, looking at the man beside you like he was delusional. He had to be talking nonsense - it was six in the morning and neither of you had any sleep or anything to eat for several hours, he’s just talking crazy, right!? But the slight smirk on his lips told you that no, he wasn’t joking. He was enjoying that you were probably thinking about it right at this moment - what it’d be like to go on a date with Mr. Kim Woojin. He’s not wrong.

The front door to Chan’s house opened and startled you to death, but you’re so, so thankful that the girl Chan took home stumbled in between you two and you could avoid Woojin’s proclamation for a little longer. Both of you turned to see Chan in his pajamas bottoms and no shirt standing in the doorway, hair disheveled with droopy eyes, looking like he didn’t get any sleep at all.

Woojin helped you to your feet before greeting his old friend. “Good morning, Chan.”

The sleepy boy’s jaw tightened. Why did he look so triumphant? If you two were here the whole night, it’s not like you two did anything… right?

“Hey,” he greeted shortly. 

Woojin turned to you. “Think about it. I’ll see you later?”

You nodded silently, still too stunned to move. Then, taking advantage of your frozen form, Woojin swooped in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

Oh shit, this man was serious.

You’re completely sober and you really wished you weren’t because now you were going to reflect on everything that happened yesterday, from the time you landed until just this very second. On top of that, you were probably going to have to deal with Chan’s grumpy ass right now because when you walked right past him to the kitchen to chug a whole bottle of water, he followed right on your tail.

“How was last night?” he asked bitterly.

“Not as good as yours apparently,” you replied, trying to stay light-hearted and calm. Don’t get jealous, _____. You don’t have a right to.

“Nothing happened.”

“Oh?”

“She was puking all night. I barely had any sleep while taking care of her.”

“Did you bring her here just so she can puke in the comfort of your home, or was that just an inconvenient coincidence?” The words made you sound jealous, but you were genuinely curious. He claimed that nothing happened as if he knew you’d care if something did. Well, you didn’t!... you said, lying to yourself.

Chan stayed quiet. That was more than enough to answer your question.

“I’m tired,” you mumbled. “I’m going to bed.”

Chan wouldn’t let you. “What were you and Woojin doing?”

“Uh, talking?”

“On my porch?”

“Yeah? You left me at the party and I was all alone! So he was nice enough to walk me back here. I didn’t want to go inside to my room because God knows what you and her were doing there -”

“Nothing happened,” he repeated.

“Yeah, now I know. But if she wasn’t puking, who knows what would have happened, and guess what, I didn’t want to hear that or deal with it or even think about it, so we sat on your porch for hours until you opened the door.”

“You were the one who left me first. I thought you and I were having a great time! I was having so much fun with you and I wanted you back in my arms as soon as possible, but then I saw you in his. Do you know how much that hurt? I have liked you since the day you took my breath away when we first met, and I thought I could finally tell you that when you were back in my arms. But then I saw you in his and panicked. I swear to you, nothing happened with me and Sana. Nothing was going to happen, not when all I could think about was what you could possibly be doing with him. I thought you left me for him, and I got scared. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, ok? Can we talk about this over breakfast?”

That was what Chan wanted to say. But he’s tired, and he’s hurt, and the tears in your eyes were too much for him to handle. With his head down, he said,

“I hope you had fun.”

Chan brushed passed you to get to the coffee maker. He might as well stay up - what was the point in sleeping now?

You rushed up stairs so he didn’t see the tears rolling down your face.

The day was silent. Everything seemed to stop, but that was the last thing you wanted. You wanted to pack up, get in the damn cherry red convertible, and fly all the way home where you could forget about this whole weekend and the people involved. Felix finally made it home around noon, chatting nonstop about the yacht party that happened at four in the morning and all the girls he was talking to and thankful he couldn’t sense the tension between you and Chan.

The drive to the airport was silent. The flight back home was silent. The drive to your apartment was silent and the only noise you made that night was crying yourself to sleep.

Where did you go wrong? Was it when you wandered off to Woojin? Was it when you agreed to go on this trip? Was it when you fell for someone so unattainable for someone in your social class? Was it when you weren’t born with a billion dollars to your name?

Life was unfair and it had a funny way with playing with you and your heart.

You didn’t see Chan much after tonight.