#especially when the employees peep the tags

[thatfilthyanimal]

You could draw the best, sexiest Megamind and if you add some sarcastic comment like "there's no sequel" I will refuse to reblog that anywhere. I am not teaching people that acting this way gets them my engagement anymore, no thank you.

You're absolutely entitled to your opinion and can have it, that's fine, just like I am not required to spread it.

[alectoperdita]

For the ficlets request, 'meeting upon the threshold' more in that universe of DSOD Kaiba realizing what the could have had and now he fucked up or just jealous DSOD Kaiba . (hope all is well with you sending all the good internet vibes)

Oh anon, I hope you were ready to receive a full-ass sequel chapter. Hope this satisfies your prompt(s). 🥺 They gave me a lot to think about (lol obviously, based on how much I wrote), and it's driving me more insane with yet more to consider. For now, I yeet this for peace of mind.

Read "Meeting upon the threshold" on AO3

word count: 4281 rating: M tags: post-DSOD, Kaiba being an asshole, one-night stand, open ending, mild sexual content, anal sex, unprotected sex

---

The forbidden fruit of knowledge sat with him—day after day, then week after week, festering with the sickeningly sweet scent of onsetting rot.

He should've discarded it. As soon as Isono, knitted brows visible above the lip of his sunglasses, handed him the dossier he'd requested, he should've ordered it disposed of. Kaiba recognized his employee's confusion, even concern. He even felt a bit of it toward himself. It had been years since he'd shown any interest in someone on the mortal plane who wasn't an active security risk, much less in Yugi's ilk.

Kaiba lost track of Yugi years ago when he retired from dueling.

But that was what made it confusing. Kaiba hadn't requested information on Yugi, but Jounouchi fucking Katsuya.

As much as Kaiba refused to admit it, his meeting with an alternate version of himself, one engaged to Jounouchi, haunted him. He spent more time than warranted replaying the encounter again and again in his head, searching for any hint of disharmony simmering beneath the surface. They might be blissfully happy or lying to themselves in a sham of a relationship. But Kaiba couldn't tell because he didn't know them.

Not anymore than he knew or understood the Jounouchi of his universe, no matter how much dirt Isono and the security team dug up on the man.

The files sat in a drawer in his office, the digital copy in his email. Against his better judgment, he'd pull it up and review the content every few days. After the first week, he practically had it memorized.

By the end of the second week, its luster grew too bright, too deceptively tempting, to ignore.

Call it a capitulation to curiosity; a momentary weakness. Either way, he counted on it finally purging his fixation.

Kaiba was ready to forget the unfortunate detour and move on. Put everything he saw of the other Seto and his fiance and bury it in a mental compartment never to be unearthed again.

Again, Isono demonstrated mute surprise not only because Kaiba left the office early in the evening, but the slight lift of his eyebrows said he recognized the address Kaiba requested to be driven to.

His bodyguard knew better than to say anything, though. If he hadn't made a peep when Mokuba divested from the company and moved to America, why would he start now?

Jounouchi, the other Jounouchi's words rose unbidden in his mind: "You already pushed everyone away, haven't you?"

Kaiba shoved the memory aside.

Traffic was light as they made their way to the old commercial district. Thanks to stubborn neighborhood associations, new development had stalled in this area compared to the rest of the city. The businesses here were family-owned and run by old timers more concerned with nostalgia than progress.

Time was on Kaiba's side. He could wait them out.

Really, he wasn't surprised Jounouchi opened his establishment here. If only so he could be another thorn in his side.

The first time he saw it in Jounouchi's files, he'd laughed. The sound resonated through his office. Never in a million years would Kaiba have pictured Jounouchi as a small business owner, especially given his rather spotty employment history. But a death in the family, and not the one everyone would've guessed, had gifted the man an unexpected windfall.

The restaurant license was legitimate. Kaiba checked twice.

Removed from the city's more vibrant business and entertainment districts, the neighborhood resembled a slice of time crystalized in amber. Its vibes were positively sleepy, and its streets were devoid of pedestrians. Hardly bustling. Kaiba doubted any business in the area qualified as booming.

He sneered. Appropriate—a third-rate restaurant in a deadbeat part of town, run by a deadbeat.

"Stay here," he ordered Isono when they stopped at the curb. "I'll call if I need anything."

Isono nodded. "Understood, Seto-sama."

Jounouchi's little restaurant was located down a narrow side street, on the ground floor of a similarly narrow two-story building with a slatted wooden roof. The place was little more than a hole-in-the-wall, with only enough seating to serve maybe half a dozen people. Perfect for a one-man operation.

Kaiba didn't hesitate before ducking under the entrance curtain. Red and patterned, it was surprisingly traditional.

"Welcome!" rang through the small shop. The lone figure behind the counter dipped into a deep bow. His voice was immediately familiar to Kaiba, almost instantly transporting him back more than a decade.

The shop's proprietor, Jounouchi, straightened. Something jangled against his chest, a long necklace slipping out of his collar. Kaiba's blood pressure spiked before he realized they were dog tags hanging from it.

Not a ring on a chain.

Slowly, Kaiba uncurled his fists, one finger at a time.

Clearly, Jounouchi remembered him too. Of course he did. Kaiba's presence in Domino was not one that could be ignored. His face was frequently plastered on billboards and featured in local and national media. Yet Jounouchi gawked, nonetheless.

It was amusing to watch the myriad of emotions flashing across Jounouchi's face—the shock, the confusion, and finally the outrage. Satisfaction welled inside Kaiba.

"Get lost," barked Jounouchi once he recovered, reaching for a knife before thinking better of it.

Kaiba did not. He crossed the threshold and took a seat at the empty serving counter directly in front of Jounouchi.

Up close, he scrutinized the other man in return. Seeing Jounouchi in real life didn't compare to the covert surveillance shots. The dark bandana around his head kept his blond hair under control. Navy chef's jacket and a white apron; he at least dressed for the job. His face was the same, more or less, yet his jaw cut sharper, the underside of his eyes darker, and his brown eyes less mirthful.

There were faint remnants of his once youthful boyish charms, but he was undeniably older now.

As was Kaiba.

But some things never changed between them.

"Is that any way to greet your customers?" he drawled, a familiar smirk lifting the corner of his lips. It was almost comforting, like slipping into a well-worn sweater.

Jounouchi clenched his jaw, the muscles jumped visibly. "I'm doing the neighborhood a favor and running off the vermin."

Kaiba's gaze darted upward. As he saw from the surveillance photos, Jounouchi indeed boosted an eyebrow piercing, two red studs framing the top and bottom of his left brow. Combined with his pierced earlobes and the short ponytail, he hadn't made a clean break with his delinquent past.

But maybe Jounouchi's lady friends appreciated the vaguely thuggish look. Or his boyfriends, if this universe's Jounouchi had similar tastes as his counterpart.

Seto couldn't be sure. The dossier reported next to nothing about Jounouchi's romantic relationships beyond his current singlehood.

As he met Jounouchi's gaze, his smirk widened, displaying every tooth possible. "Funny, that's what I figured you served in a shitty establishment like this, grilled vermin."

To his surprise, and perhaps even disappointment, Jounouchi didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he calmly gestured to the wooden plaques hanging over him. "I'm sure a smart guy like you can read."

Kaiba scanned the offerings. He didn't frequent establishments like this, as he preferred Western cuisine. The menu boasted the usual assortment of grilled meats, seafood, and vegetables, along with some ready-to-serve appetizers. The rest was a limited alcohol menu. When his gaze darted back to Jounouchi, he folded his hands on the counter and said, "Chef's choice."

For a second, Jounouchi didn't move, barely twitched as he took a shallow breath. Then, his expression steeled itself in preparation to meet Kaiba's unspoken challenge, and he burst into a flurry of movement. For a moment, he disappeared behind another curtain divider and emerged on the other side of the counter with a tray.

"Your otoshi," Jounouchi grumbled when he set a trio of small plates, a sake cup, and pourer down in front of Kaiba. He leveled one last glare before returning behind the counter.

Kaiba tried not to snort. Picking up his chopsticks, he poked at one appetizer, strips of braised burdock root and carrots. It looked correct and smelled fine. The texture crunched as he sank his teeth in, while the flavor was both sweet and savory. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Jounouchi pausing in his other preparations to watch him chew.

Kaiba swallowed without comment, and poured sake into the serving cup. Well aware of Jounouchi's lingering gaze, he threw it back in one gulp.

The sake was nothing special, nothing to write home about, but its crisp taste complemented the braised vegetables' flavor.

Their eyes locked as Kaiba lowered his cup. Jounouchi broke eye contact almost immediately, brows knitted as he concentrated on his knife and cutting board. He wielded the blade with confidence and ease, making straight cuts that sliced cleanly through a small horse mackerel. There was already other food cooking on the grill. Kaiba could smell it from across the counter that separated them.

If anyone walked in on them, an outsider might think they were nothing more than a cook and his sole customer. Despite the casual air Kaiba affected, he watched his every move. Jounouchi wasn't the sort to poison his food. Probably. Jounouchi didn't lower his guard, either, carrying his tension in shoulders and jaws despite his smooth and controlled movements.

The image of the other Jounouchi came to mind unbidden. Kaiba wondered what he did, if he even worked or if he mooched off the other Seto's good grace. It was hard to imagine Jounouchi, any Jounouchi, as a kept man, simply because he shouldn't have that sort of appeal. Compared to the other Jounouchi with his bright eyes and well-fitted clothes, the one native to his home dimension was rougher around the edges. Not just in how he kept his appearance, but also in his mannerisms. Like Kaiba, Jounouchi had also filled out since their teen years, namely in the chest and arms. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he worked his knife and grill.

After several long moments of silence, Kaiba couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "It figures this is the kind of cooking you took to—grilling meat on a stick. Positively caveman."

Jounouchi stiffened. He bristled, red creeping into his cheeks. He bit his tongue and said nothing, though. Instead, he plucked two skewers of seared meat and delicately placed them on a serving plate. He didn't touch the prawn and fish still on the grill.

Balanced on a wooden paddle, Jounouchi presented the dish to him across the counter. "Chicken hearts," he said gruffly.

Kaiba arched an eyebrow. Did Jounouchi mean to imply something by his choice of meat? But he took the plate with a neutral expression and, as much as he hated to admit it, the smell had him salivating.

He'd skipped lunch. It was the only reason the deadbeat's cooking seemed even remotely appetizing.

This time, Jounouchi made no effort to hide his staring, studying Kaiba as he ate.

Whatever Kaiba's usual culinary preferences, well-seasoned and well-cooked meat had universal appeal. The food settled heavy in his belly, warmed by sake. The otoshi and the alcohol had served their purpose, whetting his dormant appetite.

There was nothing to criticize. Not the flavor. Not the presentation. Not without lying outright or, worse, nitpicking. They both knew it, too.

Most infuriatingly, he wanted seconds.

Chair legs screeched as he stood. Without counting, he threw a handful of notes on the counter, easily three or four times what the modest meal was worth. Jounouchi made no moves to stop him, but his eyes drilled into Kaiba's back as he stalked out of the restaurant.

***

He should've thrown the files into the shredder the next day. He didn't look at them again, but their presence weighed upon him.

Later the same week, he ducked under the curtain to enter Jounouchi's robatayaki shop again. Two older diners, neighborhood retirees, were already seated at the far end of the counter, making friendly conversation with Jounouchi as he cooked for them. Jounouchi was nothing but smiles and laughs for them, beaming as if Yugi sat across from him.

Like leaden weight, the mirth dropped almost instantly from his face when he spun to greet Kaiba.

"Welcome," Jounouchi said flatly, drawing curious glances from his current customers.

Ignoring the pricking sensation, Kaiba sat at the opposite end of the counter. Jounouchi took his sweet time before suddenly appearing at his side and serving him a trio of compulsory appetizers and sake, like last time. To add insult to injury, he went straight back to his other diners without even trying to take Kaiba's order.

Frowning, Kaiba picked at the otoshi. Today's selection included chilled mung bean sprouts, kimchi, and potato salad, and the sake was warm. Same as last time, the food was palatable, probably even tasty to more pedestrian taste buds.

Every so often, a burst of laughter disturbed Kaiba, causing him to shoot daggers in Jounouchi's direction before he caught himself and forced his eyes back to his food. By the time the deadbeat acknowledged him again, Kaiba's sake had cooled entirely.

"Whaddaya want?" asked Jounouchi, voice flat and without mincing words.

They both knew he wasn't asking about what Kaiba wanted to eat. What did Kaiba want with Jounouchi? Why was he bothering him again?

Kaiba had no sane answer to give him.

To spite him, he ordered one of every item on the menu. His stomach churned unhappily at the prospect of so much food, but he refused to allow Jounouchi to intimidate him.

The chef boggled at him for a second before snapping out of it. "Your funeral," he said with a shrug before walking away.

Plate after plate, the food kept coming. By the third one, Kaiba felt ready to vomit. Instead, he left the food untouched as it piled up next to him, focusing on the alcohol instead. Time simultaneously rushed past in a torrent and crawled like molasses. It lost all meaning, reminding Kaiba of the limbo he crossed to and from Aaru. The only constant was Jounouchi, hovering right on the edge of his perceptions but otherwise refusing to engage with Kaiba more than strictly necessary.

Not unless Kaiba called to him, and he refused. People tripped over themselves to serve Kaiba, not the other way around.

Eventually, Isono came to investigate when he failed to respond to his texts. Slamming his palms down on the counter, Kaiba knocked over his chair when he shot to his feet and stormed out, leaving Isono to settle the bill.

He swore he'd never go back.

The same night, he dreamed of the heat blasting out of the charcoal grill, the dots of sweat running down Jounouchi's neck when he hunched over the fire, and large hands wrapped around the handle of gleaming knives skimming Kaiba's underbelly.

***

"Seriously, why are you here?" groaned Jounouchi. "Why are you haunting me like an evil spirit?"

Kaiba could ask the same of himself. Why did Jounouchi, first the other Seto's smooth-faced fiance with his soft hair and softer mouth, and now this rough but sure-handed Jounouchi occupy so much of Kaiba's thoughts?

Kaiba had lost count of how many times he'd been a patron of Jounouchi's restaurant. Their interactions may have thawed somewhat, but they were, by no means, friendly. At first Kaiba lingered after closing time for petty reasons, forcing Jounouchi to close and clean around him. Last time, Jounouchi plopped down next to him with a can of beer instead, complaining and insulting Kaiba the entire time. More sake bore Kaiba through the experience. Plus, it was nothing Kaiba hadn't heard before.

Tonight, Jounouchi had deflated. His face was almost haggard under the warm yellow light, nooks and crevices exaggerated by the shadows within them.

Kaiba felt as tired as Jounouchi looked. In the end, they were nothing more than two browbeaten men.

"Well?" Jounouchi demanded when Kaiba didn't respond. "Usually, you can't shut the fuck up, but now nothing? Not a damn peep?"

Kaiba hummed and sipped his sake. His tongue lapped the last drops from the cup. He licked his lips absently, noting how numb his tongue felt.

Jounouchi stared, his eyes as scorching hot as burning coal.

Kaiba did it again, and Jounouchi's eyes narrowed in anger? Suspicion?

Lifting his chin high, he smirked. It was always satisfying to needle the other man. "I don't have to explain myself to the likes of you. But it's certainly not for the pleasure of your sparkling company."

Jounouchi swore and lumbered to his feet. Kaiba watched, a passenger in his own body, as the other man stepped behind him and loomed over him, bracing the counter's edge to cage him in. "You're a shitty liar," he accused, so close Kaiba could smell the malt on his breath. "I dunno exactly why, but you're here because of me."

"You think too highly of yourself. You're a nobody."

Kaiba's head spun. Must be the sake he drank.

Jounouchi didn't back down. Kaiba wondered if tonight might end in a brawl. He could break Jounouchi's nose and give him a taste of the iron Kaiba found in the hearts and gizzards he served up. Jounouchi could turn his knife skills on a target capable of fighting back. And if they could walk away afterward, they could never see each other again.

Warm fingers nudged his chin, tilting his face up to allow Jounouchi to scrutinize him. Up close, his eyes resembled whisky, dark and honeyed. Blond fringes, dark pierced eyebrows, crooked nose, full mouth—when considered as a package, even Kaiba admitted it was not unappealing.

But Kaiba had better tastes in food and style. Better standards for people and the partners he kept in his life than Seto.

Jounouchi was fit enough to fuck, nothing more.

"Is this how you bewitched him?" he snarled, unable to stop himself from canting toward the other man.

Jounouchi blinked, then laughed, incredulously. "I can't believe it. There's no way we share an ex. There's no way that's why you started coming here outta nowhere. You're drunk, Kaiba. Call Isono so he can take you home."

He rolled back on the heels of his feet, preparing to draw away. To leave. To dismiss him.

Fueled by impulse—insanity, Kaiba spun in his seat, chasing him. His hands moved without his command, fingers closing around Jounouchi's chin in an iron grip and yanking him down to him. Their teeth knocked before their lips met. But Kaiba didn't release him, squeezing Jounouchi's jaw hard enough his own ached in sympathy.

A sharp inhale, and Kaiba instinctively tensed. This Jounouchi wouldn't hesitate to lay into him or perhaps gut him for an unwanted advance. But when he unfroze, he didn't shove Kaiba away, instead meeting him head on with surprising fervor. Kaiba hissed, both from the counter now digging into his back and the stinging nip of Jounouchi's bite.

The kiss he stole from the other Jounouchi remained fresh on his mind, as if it happened yesterday; mint-flavored, supple yet soft lips, and a hint of crisp aftershave, faded though it might've been.

Sweat and smoke clung to Jounouchi, and he tasted of beer. His lips were slightly chapped. Fingertips fluttered across Kaiba's cheeks, ears, hair, and neck, never settling on any spot for more than a second before soaring off. His hands were everywhere, roaming over Kaiba's body as if he was entitled to do so.

It made Kaiba light-headed. Good thing he was already sitting.

Heat. Spit. Teeth. The hint of copper on their busted lips and warring tongues. The unforgiving plains, peaks, and valleys of their bodies grinding against each other, like the catastrophic collision between tectonic plates, upending worlds and locking together for minutes that felt like hours and days.

They didn't so much kiss as fight to devour the other.

They broke apart, wild-eyed and chest heaving. They remained physically connected; Jounouchi's hands were now on his hips and Kaiba clasping his strong jawline, absently caressing the rough grain of his late-night stubble. Jounouchi licked his lips, and Kaiba mirrored him, causing the other man's eyes to darken further.

After a beat of hesitation, as if he was waiting for Kaiba to deny him, Jounouchi leaned in for another kiss. It was softer, reminding Kaiba of another mint-flavored one. But he kindled the embers of Kaiba's want as deftly as he fanned the flame in his cooking.

Something roiled deep in his gut, something familiar as he often felt it when he saw Jounouchi these days.

"I'm hungry," Kaiba muttered against the other man's warm mouth. "Why else would I bother coming here?"

They both knew he wasn't referring to food, though.

Jounouchi shivered. "Got it. Let's take this somewhere private."

***

They didn't need to go far. Jounouchi lived right above his humble shop, a fact Kaiba already knew from his background check. He didn't get to see much of it as they stumbled in the dark from one room to the next, hands clawing at each other and mouths biting one another. They fell in a similarly tangled heap into Jounouchi's futon, already spread open on the bedroom floor.

The slob must've never put it away after getting up in the morning.

But in this case, it was convenient. Kaiba didn't want this encounter to last longer than strictly necessary. So he was secretly glad when Jounouchi went down on him without asking. In the dark, he concentrated on the warmth and suction enveloping his cock. He could almost forget, forgive, it was Jounouchi Katsuya blowing him.

Jounouchi turned out to be quite talented at fellatio. Perhaps this was the reason the other Seto wanted to marry his Jounouchi.

A cackle bubbled in his throat; more madness. He swallowed it and slammed into Jounouchi's spasming throat, drawing a choked groan from the other man. The other sounds he made, the slurping and slobbering, were disgusting, but they made Kaiba even harder. They drove him to the brink of madness and back again.

Want, lust, want—they pounded on the back of his skull and throbbed in the base of his spine.

Grabbing hold of Jounouchi's ponytail, he yanked him off his cock. The hair tie came loose, spilling soft strands over Kaiba's fingers. He wove his digits through them and pulled again. Jounouchi moaned, low and wanting, going limp in his grip.

"Degenerate," Kaiba growled while his heart raced in his ears. "Do you want me to fuck you, Jounouchi?"

He felt, rather than saw, Jounouchi nod.

This was a mistake.

This was a mistake.

The words blared repeatedly in his brain like klaxons, but he ignored them. Just as he ignored his better sense protesting the lack of condoms and Jounouchi's pained grimace as he pushed into his achingly tight hole for the first time. Kaiba was clean, and if Jounouchi dared to give him anything other than an orgasm, he'd destroy him.

"Kaiba, move!" groaned Jounouchi, writhing under him. "C'mon, I ain't gonna break!"

Gritting his teeth, Kaiba shut out the rest of his thoughts and focused on the only thing that mattered at this moment: fucking Jounouchi. There was little tenderness to their coupling, though. No honeyed words or promises exchanged as he imagined their other selves might, their limbs twined together and sharing the same breath.

The pleasure was still real. It was enough. He lost himself in the other man's heat and tightness, gorging himself on his wanton moans and the flavor of his lips and tongue.

Soon, it was over, a flash in the pan, with semen cooling between their clammy stomachs and leaking from Jounouchi's ass when he pulled out.

He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, held it—dreading the change in the world; in himself to come—and released it before he dared to look down.

A diagonal slash of moonlight illuminated Jounouchi's eyelashes, his crooked nose, and his kiss-bruised lips. His eyes were squeezed firmly shut, peaceful if not for the furrow between his brow. As Kaiba counted the rise and fall of Jounouchi's shoulders while he caught his breath, however, nothing stirred within him—no newfound affection blossoming within his ribcage, no epiphany on how any version of himself could care about this man enough to want to marry him. No hate or disgust, none of the previous passion and hunger either.

Everything evaporated. The air between them hung stale and still, reeking of old cigarette smoke and poor decisions.

Instead, the hollowness in his chest was vacuous, and a bone-deep fatigue flooded the empty cavern.

Stupid, idiotic, he scolded himself.

Why would sex with Jounouchi change anything?

Rolling away, Kaiba grabbed the nearby discarded cover and cleaned himself wordlessly. It'd have to do until he got home. He didn't look at Jounouchi while he tucked himself away and fixed his appearance, even if he was within arm's reach.

The floor creaked as he stood, and he bit his tongue to keep from swearing. But Jounouchi didn't shift—never spoke to stop him as he beat a hasty retreat to the exit.

Pausing at the threshold, he glanced backward at the shadowed lump of the half-naked Jounouchi curled on the futon, with his back facing the door. They both knew he was still awake. But what was there left to say to each other? Nothing of consequence. Nothing which changed who they were and weren't to one another, two strangers who were barely acquaintances, hardly lovers. Kaiba showed himself out without a word of goodbye, only a faint snick as the door swung closed behind him.

---

Notes: An otoshi is a "compulsory" appetizer, which mainly means it's not free like you would see in some Western restaurants where they serve you bread and butter or even banchan in Korean meals. They are usually smaller dishes prepared ahead of service, like edamame or kimchi. Customers are billed for the otoshi. It is treated almost like a cover charge to ensure the customer doesn't occupy a seat for a long time after ordering one drink. Jounouchi gave it to Kaiba on purpose, so he's obligated to pay for something even if he doesn't order any food.

While this is basically a second chapter, I wonder if I should publish it on AO3 as a second chapter or as a separate fic. But maybe Meeting upon the threshold is better off without being attached to this sense of non-resolution? I'm curious to hear people's thoughts! <3

[tokyomanjihoe]

milf!reader x Mikey ? 👀

title: simmer - s. manjiro

simmer - mahalia ft burna boy

warnings: 18+ content so minors DNI. beach resort au, milf! reader, afab! reader, no pronouns used lifeguard!mikey, peeping tom! mikey, slight age gap, mention of divorce, mention of kids, skinny dipping, public sex, pool sex, oral (f recieving), dom! reader, subby! mikey. not proofread

tagging: @wakaslut @kazuwhora @dejwrites @misss-chrisss @gabzlovesu (if you want to be tagged lmk!)

a/n: took some creative liberty bc this was such a fun concept to write for, and i hope i pulled it off well for you anon!

you snuck through the darkness of the resort, slippered feet lightly padding on the sandy pavement as you made your way to the pool. when you reached the edge of it, you slipped out of your shorts and tiny bikini top, and stepped into the cool water.

in the privacy of the dark night, you breathed a sigh of relief, submerging yourself in the water until it caressed the bottom of your chin. some may call you a bad parent for letting your child sleep in the resort’s nursery, but you deserved a break. you loved your daughter, but there was only so much you could take without a timeout, and if skinny dipping gave you that peace, who could blame you?

propping your arms up on the edge of the pool, you leaned back and relaxed, putting on a show for the poor employee you knew was watching you from behind the foliage. it’s not like you could really blame him. you knew how attractive you were, choosing to emphasise it with mini dresses and rompers paid for by your ex-husband’s alimony payments. but after a couple minutes of idling , you stopped, quickly becoming bored of the feeling of his eyes on you.

“you gonna come out yet?” you drawled, head swivelling to face the bushes you knew he was in. “i’m getting bored of this game, you know. you’re not really subtle with it.”

silence followed, and with a response from the peeping tom seeming more and more like a fever dream, you heaved an annoyed sigh. you had come here tonight hoping for this weird game of cat and mouse to grow into something more, but with one party unwilling to play ball, there was nothing more you could do.

pushing yourself onto the ledge, you sat there for a second, water dripping and collecting into a puddle underneath you. you were just about to leave when you heard rustling in the foliage, and the sound of soft footfalls linger in your ears until he stops beside you. turning your body, you look at him with amusement coating your gaze and a sly smirk painted on your features. 

he certainly didn’t disappoint, you thought to yourself as your eyes travelled up and down his figure, gaze catching on the black strands of hair falling into his dark eyes. he stood almost lazily, a laidback confidence laced into his stance, and if it wasn’t for the lust and slight shame hidden in his stare you would have believed the faux air of nonchalance he exuded.

“there you are,” you hummed, eyes narrowing playfully at him, “weren’t you taught that it’s rude to stare at strangers, hm?”

he opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, but you wouldn’t let him, slightly raising your voice to drown out his excuses.

“especially when they’re naked. you’ve been a very naughty boy, haven’t you?”

at this, mikey’s mouth snapped shut and in the place of flimsy excuses came the red hot heat that lit up his cheeks and a wave of arousal that had his cock stiffening in his uniform shorts, the material becoming a little to tight for comfort. you chuckled darkly at him, aware of the growing tent in his shorts while an idea popped into your head.

“i won’t report you, so don’t worry. i just have a… problem that needs fixing. can you do that for me…” you paused as you waited for his name.

“mikey.”

his voice was low and rich, the slight timbre enough to send shivers down your spine. you smiled at him.

“do we have an agreement, mikey?” you drawled, playfully pulling out every syllable of his name, turning them over in your mouth.

he kept his end of your deal, and he did it so well.

your hands were currently tangled in his hair, black locks spilling through the gaps between your fingers and you tugged, pushing his face further into your wet cunt, his body sprayed out on the slippery poolside tiles. he was mind-numbingly good with his mouth, collecting your arousal on his tongue as he suckled on your clit, fingers crooking inside you at just the right angle. it left you breathless, his eagerness to please you, the vibrations of his desperate whimpers adding to the stimulation everytime you bucked your hips into his mouth.

“f-fuck mikey, right there” you moaned as he explored your walls, fingers brushing against the spongy spot that had your back arching slightly off the tile beneath you.

everything he did, every time he flattened his tongue against your folds, or strengthened the muscle to flick at your clit, it all built up, the band of tension growing tighter and tighter in your abdomen until you were on the cusp of your climax. you were missing one more thing, one little push that would send you over the edge, and that need was fulfilled when he abandoned licking over your folds and concentrated his efforts on your clit, flicking and suckling at it until you came, the grip on his hair tightening as his fingers fucked you through your high.

when you came down, sweaty and breathless, your eyes fell on mikey. your arousal glistened on the bottom half of his face in the wavy reflections of light from the pool. he licked his lips, eyes closing in bliss as he tasted you once more, and you smirked, crawling in between his legs and unzipping his shorts.

“it’d be unfair if i didn’t reward you, wouldn’t it?” you hummed seductively, lust filled eyes catching his heavy gaze. “relax, i’ll make you feel good.”

[flowerwrites06]

diamond trail finale — myg

Plot: The theft of his most elusive and mystery possession leads to a web of trickery that threatens every large syndicate in the country. (alternative: Yoongis’ prized possession is stolen but he’s not the only gang leader being betrayed)

Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Yoongi x Consigliere!Y/N

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 3k+

Genre: Mafia | Marriage | Mature Themes/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: criminal activities, mentions of past abuse (outside of the pair), explicit smut (spanking and very brief anal play), mild violence, coarse language, prostitution, slightly more graphic physical violence in this part (it’s brief but beware) 

Authors Note: here's the finale peeps! hope you like how I ended everything off! as usual, let me know what you think of this story and a like/reblog/comment go a long way!

Nectar Oak still had the same atmosphere as it did all those years ago. The smell of allspice flowers and jasmines, plumes of smoke flowing out of the customers’ mouth as their wallets emptied and cheeks glowed from excitement. All the workers held themselves up with the elegance of a geisha despite knowing they’d never be considered to such a standard. You looked up at the height of the building. How much bigger it looked when your mother used to hold your hand walk you around the streets just for some fresh air.

You felt like a ghost eerily wandering the place an old part of you died. You didn’t miss it but you could feel her. The innocence of hoping that you’d never have to work here and the relief of finding a better life. Not the best life. It was still filled with tears and suffering but at least here, she was in power. And she had the people she loved.

Silk red robe draped upon your form, resemblant of a traditional hanbok twisted and ‘modernized’ to create an erotic appeal. Golden vectors curled to accentuate your waist, the band covered your torso to enhance the curve of you breasts and you hair loosely tied by a gold clip encrusted in emeralds. You habitually touched your finger but found it empty, a small twinge of anxiety grew heavy in your chest.

*With a deep reluctant breath, you pulled off your wedding ring, hugging it to your chest before carefully placing it in a jewelry box for safe keeping.

When Yoongi saw you, a cold wave washed over him. Like the cruel turns of time twisted back to those days where he felt the walls closing in on him. Preventing him from holding onto his parents’ legacy for his mother and building his own family. His heart already dropped into the pit but he still noticed the ache. “Let’s get this over with.” He muttered under his breath.*

The owner of Nectar Oak became one of your connections. A solid reminder that things were not as it used to be. You talked to him like you were his equal rather than a worker. He also had enough brains to know he wasn’t talking to a random worker anymore. He was speaking to someone who could break his business in a blink. The thought of it caused sweat to drop on the sides of his temple.

“You know how to promote me, Jung,” you spoke as you two sat in his office. “Just do what you do best and your building will stay safe and funded.” A smile tugged at your lips, sadness gripping your gaze but you knew well to hide it from the likes of his kind.

Yoongi secluded himself in one of the courtesan rooms. He sat on the velvet couch, shirt sleeves rolled up and a cigarette between his fingers, burning eyes fixated on the cameras set up inside Nectar Oak. Particularly targeting you and Jungkook.

The man-child arrived in a half hour. Exactly on time. Black dress shirt and his cheeks sucking in an almost burnt out cigarette, dark hair messy and damp with the look of someone who was given everything he wanted. He blew the plume of smoke as he eyed the courtesans dressed in coloured silk.

Jung, the plump owner of the courtesan house pranced over to Jungkook with a jovial smile. “Welcome, sir!”

“Jung.” Jungkook grinned, leaning against the emerald marble counter. “What’ve you got for me?”

“Only the finest, Master Jeon.” Jung chortled, grabbing the hardcover book designed in teal and gold vectors. Inside were different pictures and descriptions of all the patrons that lived in the current courtesan house. “We have your favourite selections of curvy and petite as you well know. There’s also the special treatments if you require a little more spice.”

Jungkook scanned the book with an air of a teenager seeing a picture of a naked woman for the first time. Hungry eyes finally stopped and stared at one picture. “Who is she?”

“Uh—oh, she’s not quite available yet, sir.”

Hunger turned to determination. “Why not?”

“Well—see her prices—she’s one of our most risky patrons.”

“You’re saying I can’t afford her?”

“No, no no no!” Jung chuckled nervously without hitch of losing his act. “It’s just—only a select amount of customers have actually been able to have a session with her. She has her own ground rules, you see and some extremely challenging—eh—punishments if those rules are abided by. Experienced employee benefits.”

Yoongi had to hand it to him for his marketing skills. Anyone like Jungkook would love a challenge if someone thought they couldn’t do it.

“I’ll take her,” Jungkook said. “Whatever the price.”

“Oh, sir—”

“I don’t like waiting, Jung. Let’s not taint this friendship we have, hm?” Jungkook narrowed his gaze.

Jung let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Of course, sir. I will call her down.” He pressed on one of the buttons at his desk.

Yoongi heard the buzz from the vanity table where you sat.

You stood up from the chair, walking out of the room without sharing a glance at Yoongi so you could steel yourself. The time for softness wasn’t now.

Walking down the wooden stairs, even the echoes of your shoes were too familiar. Time rewound, bringing you right back where you started. No. You mentally shook your head and raised your chin. Your presence lit up the room, silencing the younger members and alerting the other customers. The silk train left behind exuded an air of magic, like wildflowers growing at your every step.

All the illusion of a trained courtesan in this country.

Jungkook stared at you, hunger burning in his eyes as he stamped the cigarette on the silver ashtray lain on the counter.

“Master Jeon,” you said, bowing in front of him. “Pleasure to be of your service.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Jungkook spoke with the delicacy of a lover but the fire of a conqueror. “Jung here holds you to high regard in this establishment.” He walked close to your form until he towered over you, feeling the filmsy satisfaction for seeing your gaze lift for him. “I’m excited to see what the mystery is all about.”

You side-eyed Jung with a calculated smug smile, reddened lips and eyes moist. “He’s an enthusiastic man but not a liar, I assure you. One doesn’t make a room stand still like this without having a few skills under her skirt.” Your cheeks glowed like polished jewels.

Jungkook chuckled under his breath. “That’ll be all, Jung.”

Jung bowed with a wide grin and walked away.

You held onto Jungkooks’ hand. “This way, sir.” Nervousness faded completely as the mission at hand became your first priority. The scent of opium was thick around Jungkooks’ form as he shifted closer, nudging his nose in your hair slightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Master Jeon.”

“Oh? Nice things I hope.”

“Tales of conquering the higher ups and standing up for the street dwellers.” You looked over your shoulder. “You’re a hero amongst the whispers of the alley.”

If confidence had a physical form, it’d be like gold oozing down Jungkooks’ ears and mouth like tears and slobber after sex. He was young. His nerves were easy to tug and manipulate to your whim. “Do you think I’m a hero?”

You hummed with a cheeky shrug. “I like physical proof of things rather hearsay. Lingers more on the mind.”

“I can fix that soon.” Jungkook moved his hand over to your waist, squeezing and digging into the skin. You tried not to wince. “And when I’m done with you, you can watch the chaos I created soon.”

“Chaos?”

“I’ve achieved a magnificent feat of having the Queen of Gae Pa herself…” He pressed his lips against your ears. “…giving herself over to me.”

A tiniest twinge of anxiety tugged at the back of your mind but you stayed steady. “Was I really that obvious?”

“If I could steal all of the most powerful gangs’ precious items, I think I could recognize your face.” Jungkook traced a finger down your cheek. “Must say you’re a thousand times more beautiful than your pictures.” He moved his fingers down to the curve of your breasts. “Your daughter looks just like you.”

The anxiety that tugged now flooded your entire body, hot rushing in then freezing. All in confusing pattern until your head started spinning. Glossed eyes blinked slowly and your chin raised, staying strong.

“I have my own spies too,” Jungkook whispered. “There’s alleys and streets everywhere. Enough sorry souls to do anything for a new life. You understand that, don’t you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Do you have her with you?”

“Oh no…I’m not that evil.” Jungkook jutted his lips out. “She can stay happily in that cute safehouse. Except there’s eyes always on her.”

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. A neutral expression on your face. “What’s your negotiation?”

“Nothing special. Just for all the Dons to pledge themselves to me.” Jungkook shrugged. “Especially Don Kim and your husband.” He tilted his head. “You also know just as much as I do that I have every measure possible to ensure they won’t say no.” Palm traced up her back to her neck. “And I also require your mind. Despite my little street friends running around, you have the most connections known to the underworld. Your body could be a wild bonus.” He smirked.

You raised your chin, breath sucked in and stuck in your throat. “I don’t want to talk in the hallway. Everything is being recorded.” You spoke under your breath.

Jungkook hummed as you brought him towards the bedroom.

Yoongi refrained from trying to break another mug of coffee. Instead he listened carefully. Anxiety shook through his body hearing a stranger—no, their fucking rival—speak of their daughter. But he knew what had to be done. Eyes sharp, he flickered his gaze over to the corner of the courtesan room. The bed adorned in red and gold silk sheets held a figure, both arms tied to the bedposts and his mouth gagged with cloth, stained with the blood from his fresh glistening wounds.

He stood up from his chair, hands dug in his pockets as he examined the heaving body. “You’re up, Kim.” A sinister smile flashed to Taehyung. Silent reminder on who held one of the underworlds’ pillars. The lead alpha of this country. That same terrifying individual now stood here, heated with anger and the urge to protect his family sent sizzles throughout the room.

Taehyung blinked slowly as the realization hit him.

Jungkook wasn’t coming out of here unscathed.

***

It was the best news you received in a while. They found him. Kim Taehyung.

Your notes at the auction managed to help the spies track down the buyer. Apparently they wanted to be rid of it after hearing of the murders in the other gangs. They kept it hidden in their backyard instead of displaying it. You took it off their hands and sent it to Jwi Pa.

Despite their current clean slate, the gang still had the best trackers. You needed them to find the elusive auctioneer. The moment they saw the ledger in your gloved hand, they were putty. Any request and they would abide.

Kim Taehyung lived in a private estate personally gifted by Jeon Jungkook once he rebuilt Mal Pa to its former glory. As soon as his location was exposed, it took only a couple of minutes of breaking through security and having the man in their grasp. Jungkooks’ weak spot.

Nor Yoongi or Namjoon were happy to see him. Both of them failed to push back their punches but they knew enough to keep him alive.

“There’s a high chance Jungkook will know my face,” you said.

“So send someone else,” Namjoon suggested.

Yoongi tightened his jaw, not wanting to admit the truth that was right in front of him. “She’ll know what to do better than anyone.”

“You have so many talented spies!” Namjoon gestured wildly. “Fucking hell, I hate that I’m the one who has to admit it.”

“A scenario, Namjoon.” You intertwined your fingers together. “If Jungkook sees through the operation, what do you think they’ll do to a faceless spy?”

“If it’s her then Jungkook will be distracted.” Yoongi curled his fingers into tight fists.

“Well enough for me to actually bring him to the room whether he finds out or not.”

Namjoon let out a frustrated sigh. “Why is it so annoying that it’s a good idea?”

“For the first time, Kim, I agree.”

You gave them both sharp looks. “We end this now. No hitches.”

***

Opening the door, Yoongi noticed your glossed eyes. He wanted to hold you right there and then but there was still work to be done. Yoongi knew partly you were maintaining an act. It wouldn’t finish until the curtains were closed.

“Don Min!” Jungkooks’ lips stretched ear to ear. Expression bright and confident of the achievement right in his grasp. In a split second, his gaze flickered over to the tied figure. The golden tones of his skin lost its vibrancy, grin disappeared and his eyebrows in the realization of the bleeding man. “Tae—”

Taehyungs’ groans and screams muffled by the soaked cloth. Eyes flooded with tears as Namjoon closed the door behind Jungkook. There was no way to escape.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder. Both the leaders of Gae and Sutal Pa together in the same room. Caging him in. Namjoon had a satisfied smirk, dragging the stone mallet towards him.

Out of instinct, Jungkook pulled the gun out of his holster and pointed it to your chest. A sense of accomplishment rushed through him when he saw Yoongi raise his gun frantically. He could do this. All that progress to come this far from a street rat to a gang leader. It couldn’t all end here in a second. It was too quick. He needed to breathe. "Want to see which bullet reaches first?”

Taehyung protested through his cloth, struggling out of the rope.

You pushed Jungkooks’ hand to the side with your left hand, causing a stress shot to speed past your shoulder. Right ear ringing, you used your other hand to reach for the grip. Gun now in clasped in your hand, end of the barrel pointed at Jungkooks’ heart.

Yoongi didn’t hesitate taking a shot at Jungkooks’ leg, causing him to drop on his knees with a pained grunt.

Namjoon chuckled with a raspy tone, raising his stone mallet. “What a good day.” He slammed the mallet on Jungkooks’ calf. The crack and scream that came afterwards was one that could haunt you at night. But it was nothing new in the underworld. You try to break the underworld pillars, they’ll break you back ten times worse. It was the law in this hell.

You watched Jungkook thrash on the ground, blood darkening the wooden floor. Mixed with Taehyungs’ loud sobbing. It was a nursery rhyme of nightmares. Melodies of suffering that will melt into the walls of the courtesan house. No one will speak of it but they’ll know. They’ll never forget.

***

The new dawn arrived golden and the birds sung the continuous reign of Gae and Sutal Pa. Mal Pa was once again broken down into chaos as their usurper leader stepped away from his position and hid away after the two gangs made their example clear. Taehyung, still healing from his own wounds, opted to stick by Jungkooks’ side. The new looming darkness over their faces were hard to miss.

“If it’s worth anything, Jeon, you did good.” Yoongi stood over him on the stretcher. “Just not good enough.”

Jungkook stayed silent, gaze averted to focus on Taehyungs’ shirt. “Might not be me but someone else’ll come back to do the same thing. You can’t reign forever.”

The diamond ending of every underworld devil. Every gang had it. That one day when everything falls apart before their eyes and there was nothing to do about it. A fate worse than assassination.

Sun peaked through the buildings, framing Yoongis’ silhouette and casting warmth on his cool cheek. “It’s true. But when it does, it’s gonna be by my hand.”

Jungkook blinked over at him in confusion.

Yoongi smirked, gently tapping his shoulder. “Get well.” That day for Yoongi wasn’t to be shut down by another gang or a new leader. But to throw the match in himself and see it all burn. The beautiful end to his diamond trail.

Jungkook and Taehyung were moved to secluded area, away from any kind communication with the underworld.

Street dwellers will be loyal to anyone that could promise them something good. Now that Jungkook couldn’t provide it anymore, they scurried like rats under Yoongi or Namjoons’ wing. The underworld, even in the top ranks was cruel and brutal, leaving no mercy for even the good-hearted.

When you arrived back to the manor, the first thing was to remove the god awful dressing from the courtesan house. You draped back into your work dress, letting out a sigh of relief that it was all a play.

Namjoon paid a small visit to cast a farewell. Shaded eyes scanned across the mansion, admiring the architecture and paintings. Or just staring at them to avoid eye contact with Yoongi. “So European.”

“My mother grew up travelling between France and Italy,” Yoongi said. He dug his hands into his trousers. “She really liked all the architecture of the old buildings.” His heart swelled remembering the years after their father passed away. They found a new venue and spent over a year just working on the house. It was the most time they had ever spent alone without any kind of distractions from their father.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking—what happened to your mother?” Namjoon asked. “She was quite young when she married.”

Yoongi hummed, a sad smile tugged on his face. “She wasn’t well for a long time. Since she gave birth at a young age, the stress of it had lot of side effects in the long term. She held out long enough to ensure that I wouldn’t have to live with my father alone.”

Namjoons’ expression softened. “I’m sorry. Having a good family member in the household is already a rarity in itself. I can’t imagine losing them.”

In the small silence, you stepped down the stairs. You met the two men with a kind smile, fingers intertwined together. “Nice to see you two playing nicely.”

Yoongi smiled. “Of course.”

You, Namjoon and Yoongi padded outside of the manor into the afternoon light. The black SUV glinted and the guards looked like insects scurrying to their positions so that Namjoon was protected.

Pausing at the end of the entrance stairs, Namjoon turned to face the two of you. “It was fun working with you—just lighten up a little more.”

“Not a chance,” Yoongi stated plainly. “But—it was good not being at war for once.”

Namjoon smirked, eyes flickered to you with a softened expression. “Good day, my lady.”

You nodded in acknowledgement as the male turned on his heel and climbed into his SUV. A sense of relief washed over your form. Yoongi took your hand and escorted you back into the comforts of the manor.

“The diamond gun is back in its original place.” Yoongi let out a long exhale, emptying his chest of the anxiety. “I can take a fucking nap now.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. A silent reminder that nothing was lost in this fight. You were safe and your childs’ location was still unknown to everyone else. “I know what you were doing.”

“You did?” A smile stretched across your lips.

“Taehyung was just a final tick.” Yoongi led you over to the couch, settling down with a deep sigh. “Jungkook was more terrified at the fact that Namjoon and I actually worked together.”

“If you two fought then both the pillars would’ve been crumbling. Easy for Jungkook to break.” You traced your fingers across his raven fringes. “Maybe you two should stop bickering so much. Just in case another street dweller comes in to hurt you.”

“One step at a time, my love.” Yoongi smiled, throwing his head back against the couch. “How’s Jewel?”

Jewel was her nickname. Her eyes shone even when there was no light reflecting off them. Maybe it was just their rosy lenses but you didn’t care. “She’s been moved to another safehouse. She says she’s happy.”

“Good.” Yoongi nodded. “That’s good.” He held onto your hand and kissed it. “We’ll all be together soon for the holiday. I promise.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” You raised a brow.

Yoongi loved his new family.

<< prev chap | 

[slashscowboyboots]

England’s Dreaming: The Clash (Part 2)

Part 1

I’m going to be posting a little more regularly, I hope to have a Christmas fic up sometime in the near future.  Thank you for all the likes and reblogs

Tag list: @izzysdenimjacket​ @no-stone-no-bone​ @sexcoffeeandrockandroll​ @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands​ @smokeandmirrorz​ @sodalitefully​​ @roger-taylors-car​​  @harley-m-rose​ @whisperess33​ @shawolat​ @80snikki as always, if you wish to be tagged let me know

Warnings: near-fatal horniness and very deep disappointment.  And no one likes doughy balls

“You're awful quiet,” Duff murmured.

It had been quite an interesting morning.  Izzy had shown up fifteen minutes before his shift started, wearing a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a patch with “Izzy” embroidered over his right pec and quietly asked if he could wear that on the job.  White circles swam in front of your eyes until he cleared his throat and repeated the question.

“Sure, it’s fine,” you mumbled, then put your hand over your mouth to cover a moan as you watched him lift your cakes, his shirt riding up and exposing a strip of his white stomach, contrasting vividly with his low-riding black jeans, then walk out the door.

“Relax, Y/N,” Duff said, grinning like a madman.  “He'll treat your babies right.  He’s got a gentle touch.”

Since drinking before 8 am was bad form, especially on the job, you opted to close yourself in the pantry, stuffing a dish towel in your mouth while you screamed. 

Finally getting your heart rate down to normal, you began your day.  Without Izzy’s presence, the shop seemed especially empty, and you used your time making icing and scones and mentally berating yourself.

If a man eyed a woman like that, you’d call him a pig.  It’s rude to just openly stare at someone, even if they are so blatantly attractive.

You don’t have a chance with him anyway, with your preppy little sweaters and pearls.  If he wasn’t your employee, he’d never even notice someone like you.

Oh yeah, did you forget that you’re his boss?  And as professional as he seems, a workplace romance is not in the cards, even if Hell froze solid and he thought you were hot.

“Yoo hoo,” Duff said, waving a hand in front of your eyes.  “He’ll be fine.  I know the other guys left a lot to be desired, but Izzy takes his work seriously.  The only reason I didn’t recommend him first is because he was already working at the flower shop.”

You looked up at him, then pursed your lips and nodded.  Best to let him think it was worry and not terminal lust for your newest employee that was running on a continuous loop in your brain.

“And if I know Izz, and I like to think I do, he’ll throw himself into his work.  He’s single, he’s got no constraints on his time, besides playing guitar and riding his bike.  Which doesn’t run anyway.”

“He’s single?” you yelped, then the front door dinged open and the devil himself strode in the kitchen.

“Hey, I’m back,” he smiled.  “Any more deliveries?”

“Well,” and your throat went dry, “you have to deliver a cake to the Martins’ birthday party at 1 o’clock.  Nothing till then.”

“What can I do?”

“Uh, there’s dishes in the sink,” you peeped, pointing to them.

“Here, Izz, catch,” Duff said, and tossed him an apron.  You were relieved it wasn’t your pink eyelet one, then Izzy shook it out and tied it on.  “LOVE MY BUNS” was emblazoned on the front of it, and Duff threw you a wily grin.

Izzy squared his shoulders.  “Y’all better love ‘em,” he deadpanned, snapping on a pair of yellow rubber gloves.

You tried not to stare at them, then concentrated on dropping food coloring in some batter.  The tie dyed cupcakes you sold were selling out faster than you could make them, but Duff had an aversion to making them for some reason, so you had to create them.  And what better way to keep your mind off Izzy’s spectacular buns?

That was easier said than done.  You noticed Izzy’d finished his dishes, then felt him before you even looked up.  He was peering into your mixing bowl, his nose nearly touching it.  “What are you making?”

You jerked your head up, and his face wasn’t six inches away, his soft lips slightly parted.  “These-these are tie dyed cupcakes.”

“Can I help you with them?”

“Uh, sure.”  You squeezed the last of the food coloring in, then dropped the liners in the muffin pan, instructing him how to fill them three-quarters full, then he slid them in the oven.  

“Thank you, Izzy.  Um, do you want to help Duff make cookies?”

Duff jerked his head.  “Can you get me the flour over there?”

Izzy grabbed it, and because he was wearing short black boots and not slip-resistant work shoes, slid on the slick floor, very nearly dropping it.  He must’ve clenched the open bag in his hands, because a big poof of it exploded right in his face. 

“Shit,” he gasped, blowing it out of his mouth.

Duff slapped the table, howling at him, and you were trying very hard not to laugh.

Izzy stuck his tongue out, coughing, and he looked so embarrassed you wanted to hug him.  “Uh, yeah, I’ll be heading upstairs now.  By the time I get cleaned up, it’ll be time to make my delivery.”  He barked out a laugh.  “I hope this doesn’t make paste when it hits water, or I’ll have dough balls.  And nobody likes doughy balls.”

Duff had been grinning since Izzy went upstairs.  “I think he likes it here.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he laughed.  Izzy never laughs.”  He crossed his arms over his black safety-pinned t-shirt.  “I told you he’d be a good fit.  Hey, can I take my lunch now?  I feel the need for…..pizza.”

“Sure,” you said, and on went the pimp coat.  Even though he worked in a bakery, Duff had an overwhelming love for the pizza shop next door, and you swore he was working on duplicating their dough on his early shifts, unseen by you.

It was heavenly pizza, and you regretted not asking him to bring you back a slice, then the door chimed open and a stunning brunette woman with huge dark eyes walked in.

“Hi,” she said in a sultry voice, “is Izzy here?”

You shook your head, taking in her heavy eye makeup and micro skirt.  She was tiny, although she was wearing a sky-high pair of stilettos.  “He’s-he’s out.  I can tell him you stopped by.”

“Sure.  I’m Barbie.”  Her red lips turned up in a smirk.  “Aren’t you just precious?  I love your little rubber boots.”

“Th-thank you,” you said, hoping the floor would swallow you up.  Of course, this was the kind of woman Izzy would pursue, someone sexy, not a Shy Di wannabe. What worked to catch the attention of a stodgy middle-aged prince was very unlikely to work on an edgy guy like Izzy.  You knew that.

And standing in front of you was living proof.

“So, anyway, tell him I came by.  And here,” she threw a denim jacket on a table, “he left this in my car.  Bye, little rubber boots.”

[michaelreaderreblog]

My truemate pt16

Here are the links to catch up here ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN

********************************************************

Word Count: 1,798

You were in the living room cleaning every nook and cranny around the living room. Dusting off the cushions from the couch. Making sure your scent and Castiel’s wasnt lingering throughout the house. Or anywhere really.

Dean was in the garage working on one of his many projects he started. He never finished either of those projects, due to customers and everything.

But he finally took the time to get them done, since he didnt have any orders or anything to refurbish. It was a free weekend for him. Finally.

You heard the door bell go off and wondered who would that be. You nor Dean were expecting anyone to come by.

Well you waited for Sam and Sarah to come home from their weekend getaway. But no one else.

You looked through the peep hole only to find the douche who harassed you back at the diner all those months ago.

You went running to the garage to get your brother to answer the front door.

“Dean, that guy is here and and and and and” you couldnt gather a coherent sentence or thought but your fear triggered him.

He went walking to front of the house to see what he wanted or just to beat the crap out of him all together.

“What do you want Dick bag” Dean says with anger in his voice.

He doesnt like the vibe he is getting from Dick, its as though he is up to something and Dean looks around his property.

“Its Dick Roman” he says way too smugly for Deans liking and he doesnt take his hand for a proper greeting.

“Look I just wanted to come and apologize for my behaviour a couple of months ago at the diner. In hopes that your sister will see me and accept my apology personally” he says taking his hand away to adjust his suit jacket he has on.

“No, she isnt in right now and wont be home for a while. Now you can go” he says sternly.

Dean is trying to refrain from attacking Dick, oh how he would love to bash his face in. Crack every bone in his body, blood eagle Dick as Dean rips out his heart slowly.  Show Dick his beating heart as he slowly dies.

“Are you sure about that? Because I could have sworn I could smell her delicious scent from out here along with another delightful scent. How many Omegas do you have hidden here Dean?” he asks keeping his gaze to the house and all around the windows.

Dean is about to say something when he is cut off by someone driving into the drive way. He looks at the person who is parked by the garage and to his surprise its Benny.

“Roman, what are you doing here?” he asks coming out of his truck to stand in between him and Dean.

“The dick bag was just leaving” Dean says while a growl escapes from his mouth.

“Benny friend, as Dean said I was just leaving. Good day Benny and Dean” he says as he gets into his car.

Before he gets into the driving seat he takes one look to the house and to Dean.

There is an unsettling feeling at the pit of Deans stomach while he watches Roman have one more glance around the house.

“Why was that son of bitch here?” Benny asks to break the tension that Dean has built up around him.

“He said he wanted to apologize to my sister about the groping at the diner but told him to stick it where the sun dont shine” he says while looking to the car that is driving away.

“I dont believe that for a second, I have a feeling a shit storm is coming and it aint good” Benny says in hushed tone.

“I know and I need to protect my sister now and more then ever” Dean says and goes back into the garage.

He continues sanding off the shelves he is making. He started on a project to make shelves and shape it like a canoe.

“I see you are doing mighty fine when it comes to business, my wife Andrea loves the items she has requested from you” he says as he enters into the garage.

“I am glad and at the same time I take pride when it comes to those types of compliments” he says with a smile on his face.

Dean and Benny share a chuckle, something to enlighten the mood.

“Is there a reason why you are here other than complimenting me on my work” he asks as he puts the sandpaper down to pull out two stools for them to sit on.

“There is a reason why I stopped by and that it was Roman” he says looking uncomfortable bringing him up again.

“Well what about him?” he asks and feeling uneasy about the topic again.

“Im told he has gotten himself into a business and he has even moved outside the state to get himself situated in” he says in a hush tone as he lowers his head after telling Dean about the piece of information about Dick Roman.

“What sort of business?” he asks getting up from the stool to open the cooler he has in the garage filled with beer and ice.

Dean takes out two bottles of beer. He offers Benny one and accepts the beer with a slight nod.

“Thats the thing, what business? One of my employees over heard him talking with this guy at the diner and heard Roman agree to go into business with him. She missed the whole entire conversation but thats what she told me. I thought about you and your sister so I told my wife. She thinks its brothel business. She told me to come and give you this information along with what she thinks because she got worried.” Benny says looking away from Dean and gets up from the stool to look closely at the shelf Dean is making.

“That son of a bitch and I bet you he came looking for her hoped she would be alone” he couldnt go on with what he was going to say and began to hyperventilate while pacing around the garage.

Benny sees him doing that and immediately rushes to his side only to hear the door to the kitchen open.

“DEAN!! Whats wrong? Why are you” you came running out to the garage from where you were hiding in Dean's room and saw he had company.

Dean saw you and went towards you while he swallowed you into his arms and you felt him trembling.

“Whats going on? You’re scaring me” you ask while the tone in your voice changes and comes out too shaky at the end.

He has his arms locked around you as he scents you.

Between family its allowed to seek comfort from one another.

When in need from fear, panic, and to settle from whatever rage they had to settle their nerves.

Dean pulls away from you slowly, takes one look to you and thats all he needed to settle himself.

“That Dick came by here looking for you and he scented that there was another Omega here which is Cas. I think he came by here to take you away permanently” he tells you very slowly to make sure that you understood him

You look to him all wide eyed and looked to Benny who had the very same trembling feeling Dean gave off not to long ago.

“You think thats why he came here? How would you know for sure though?” you ask while trying hard to keep it together.

“An employee of mine, her name is Dorothy. She was out serving a customer and over heard him talking with another man saying he agreed to go into business with him. That he would need to move out of state just to take the job because no one in this state would approve on his business. I told my wife before coming here, she gave me her theory on the whole thing and it could be a brothel business he has gotten himself into. Andrea is her name, she told me to come here and tell the both of you because she got worried about you” Benny says to you while keeping his gaze on you and you knew he was doing this as a warning call especially when it came from his wife.

“Why come here alone when Roman is looking to abduct Omegas?” you ask pulling yourself from Deans side to get a better look at Benny.

“Thats the thing, they cant take mates knowing that they will get themselves killed. These types of businessmen dont want attention like that because everything can come crashing down once something like that gets in the press.” he says while setting his beer down on the counter he is leaning on.

“What do we do?” you ask looking between Dean and Benny.

“We need to find out for sure if he has done something this idiotic and bring this son of a bitch down before something horrible happens” Benny says looking between two of his new friends.

Benny has become invested into protecting his new friends along side with his wife.

“I can bring my wife by sometime so the both of you can meet her. Where is Sam by the way?” he asks.

“Oh he went out of town with Sarah for the weekend” Dean finally says something after being silent for a while.

You can sense he is starting calm down from his trembling fear.

“Oh wow, that is amazing news. Looks like you will be extending the family by having Sarah” Benny says with a sincere tone to his voice and has a very wide smile on his face.

“Yeah well one of us needed to consummate a bond already” Dean says to get his mind off the Roman topic for a while and have a sense of happiness in the garage.

“Please lets all head inside and I can make a pot of coffee. You alright with that Benny?” you ask looking between the two men in the garage.

“No thank you, I better get a move on and tell my wife the glorious news. We can set something up when your brother and new sister in law get back so that we could all meet officially” he says and with a wave of a hat he is off heading home.

You and Dean head back into the house to get that pot of coffee going and try to think of something to get this little operation going. On how to officially find out about the business Roman has gotten himself into.

**

Tags List

@jms-01

@animegirlgeeky

@strangerthingshargove

@freerebelmentality

@enthusedbycuriosity

@sia-del

@jacobmarkstrom25 

@takethetimetowasteamoment

[lunadax]

Thanks for the tag, @silentauroriamthereal, I love this one and doing it right NAO

Rules: 15 questions 15 mutuals

1. Are you named after anyone? Oh boy, long story: im the third of 3 children, and my mom thought i was a boy when pregnant with me because her belly and all around feeling was just like when she was pregnant with my brother, and not at all like when she was pregnant with my sister. So. I was supposed to be Mario. (i know ) and then when it turned i was a girl, she thought of naming me Lucie (french version of Lucy, obv). But then my older brother wanted her to name me like her best friend at kinderkarten, a little girl called Manon, so my name was picked by my brother, actually. :-)

2. When was the last time you cried? Earlier this week when I announced my employees of 5 years+ that I was leaving for a new job somewhere else. 

3. Do you have any kids? No, it was not for me. 

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? eh. I don’t know. When I do, i feel like i need to warn people it is sarcasm because i feel i’m not that good at it...

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? The feeling they project. I “feel” people before i “see” them. Maybe it’s a consequence of working in customer service for so long, i need to know how they are so I can better serve them the way they want to? I don’t know if it makes sense... It also has the bad side effect of me applying it to every new people i encounter outside of work, so i feel like a phony person a lot of the time, because im adapting to the people im being with. *sigh*

6. What’s your eye color? Green, mostly, but they change colour depending on the day/mood/lighting. They’re dark, most of the time. 

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Both, especially when in the same movie :-p 

8. Any special talents? i can put my hand flat on the floor without bending my knees.

9. Where were you born? Sept Iles, northern Quebec.

10. What are your hobbies? drawing, knitting, crocheting, reading, movies/tv series, wine drinking, fan girling and loving Benedict Cumberbatch and Sherlock. 

11. Do you have any pets? I had a orange winged Amazon when I first met my husband, then had a huge fishtank, a snake, a Senegal Parrot, and 3 siamese cats. I’m now down to the youngest of all these wonderful creatures, Emile, my Red lynxpointed siamese. 

12. What sports do you play/have played? I used to play basketball, but got a panic attack during a game, and stopped altogether. I dislike excercise, but am seeing the appropriate therapist to fix this and get back into shape ATM. I’m 13 pounds down and VERY motivated :-)

13. How tall are you? 5′5″

14. What’s your favorite subject in school? French and english, with a dash of Arts and Drama. I did do a supplementary Biology class to get a feel of it, but loved arts a wee bit more :-) 

15. What’s your dream job? hmm. i always wanted to work in the book world, and so far that’s exactly what i’ve been doing. this new job im getting is probably going to get me even closer to it, so eh, im living it, dear! 

let’s tag some peeps

@julaerenee @poirott @thelostsmiles @merindab @mental-leaps @anindoorkitty @fuckyeahfightlock @elennemigo @dangbenedict @londoncallingsigh @hudders-and-hiddles @benedictcumberbaatch @xthismeanswar @wtgilsa @jbaillier @chrissymbod 

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: MOVIE REVIEW: The Night Clerk

(Image: thenypost.com)

THE NIGHT CLERK— 3 STARS

Like it or not, there’s something carnal and entirely compelling about voyeurism. From trainwrecks to Peeping Toms, gazes can be easily fixated by the energy of those moments.  There is an addictive draw that can be interest, mystery, surprise, titillation, or all of the above. The invasive level of wrongness in watching something you are likely not meant to see is measured by what one is doing or getting out of these observations. That’s a bit of the hook of The Night Clerk which allows a little gray hue on that potential wrongness.

Bart Bromley, played by Ready Player One’s lead Tye Sheridan, is a 23-year-old guest reception worker at a mid-range suburban hotel. When we meet him, Bart is sitting in front of a collection of large computer monitors observing recorded security footage from his place of work. However, the views are not all hallways and lobbies. Certain camera angles have him peering into guest rooms unbeknownst to whomever is on camera. They appear rigged through mirrors and device outlets. Here is where what the person is doing or getting out of this voyeurism comes into play. 

LESSON #1: OBSERVING HUMAN BEHAVIOR— As Bart is watching these people, he is repeating their words and captured conversations. He is practicing cadence and imitating voices, inflections, and ticks of body language.  It doesn’t matter the gender. Bart is trying all the behaviors out. When he steps into public, we see him trying these lines and moves out. What he isn’t doing is getting himself off. Why? To echo Bart’s own go-to deflection, “that’s a very complicated question and it could take a long time to answer”

LESSON #2: THE FUNCTIONING TRAITS OF ASPERGER SYNDROME— You see, Bart has Asperger syndrome. Many individuals with this developmental disorder can maintain jobs, drive cars, and plenty more. Bart and his monitor setup reside in his protective mother Ethel’s (Oscar winner Helen Hunt) home. Social interactions are a huge hurdle and repetitive behaviors are comfort zones. What Bart is absorbing through his voyeurism is how to tame and improve his communication skills.

Just about at the point where you squint and pause if that seemingly helpful purpose is alright or not for invading privacy, one of Bart’s camera configurations captures a struggle between a well-to-do blond female hotel guest (Jacque Gray) and an unknown male visitor. Bart scrambles to arrive and stop the struggle when a shot rings out and the woman is dead on the floor. Bart is first on the scene and blankly direct when the authorities arrive, led by Detective Espada (John Leguizamo, playing this half-coy/half-burnout) and the victim’s husband Nick Perretti (Jonathan Schaech). No matter his medical label, you’re damn right he’s a suspect and rightfully so.

LESSON #3: THE TRUST YOU GIVE CUSTOMER SERVICE REPRESENTATIVES— Come to think about this setting, it’s quite amazing how much of your life is in the hands of people like clerks, hosts, greeters, secretaries, and other front-line customer service employees. You see their name tag and welcoming smile and readily hand over your personal or financial information. They sit behind a desk with every key between them, strangers, outside forces, and your indefensible state in their location. The Night Clerk puts just enough creep and suspicion into this predicament to stir plenty of conjecture worth hanging around to figure out. 

The final combustible element and possibly the next person caught in this escalating web of mystery is the vampish moll Andrea Rivera, played by red hot Knives Out and Blade Runner 2049 ingenue Ana de Armas. Descending upon Bart’s transferred new lodging post, her smoky allure (which she makes look easy) and kindly understanding of his peculiarity have the young man smitten. The plot thickens when the man seemingly controlling her is the same man Bart saw during the earlier murder.

The Night Clerk is an intriguing little burner from long-lost filmmaker and Mr. Robot actor Michael Cristofer. This is his first directorial effort in 19 years since 2001’s tawdry erotic Angelina Jolie vehicle Original Sin after the cult hit Body Shots and Jolie’s brilliant HBO breakout Gia before that. Time and tastes have softened this kind of material which would have been fittingly sexualized for late-night pay cable channels or the Paul Verhoeven crowd.  On one hand, The Night Clerk is missing some of that possible pulp and edginess to really widen our eyes and drop our jaws. Instead, it takes on the calculated challenge of weaving a layer of empathy for the main character to override the egregious errors of consent.  In doing so, the movie feigns sophistication when it really doesn’t exude it.

The real score is Tye Sheridan, following up one odd indie performance in The Mountain with another one here. In a place where so many screenwriters and performers alike dial up far too many quirks for the sake of quirks to portray people on the autism spectrum, Cristofer and Sheridan compose one of the best and most consistent performances of this character type in recent memory. Sheridan’s ticks ranging from demure courtesy to blunt honesty are the right level of subtlety and delivered with measured restraint. His character may find himself in a mess, but he is never the mess. This is very impressive work from Sheridan, especially for this class of film.

LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#861)

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