#floor mounted scissor lift

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 36: Four Million Steps Back

Chapter Word Count: 7,035

TW

Vomitin. Stalking, Mouse continues to get traumatized. I'm sorry. IT IS GROSS SO BE WARNED. Alcohol mentions/drinking (mentioned) I can't think of anything else personally so let me know if I missed something

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Even though you moved into a safer place, you were still hesitant to go anywhere, one alone, or two, out of your routine alone. 

You have become relatively settled into the new place, ordered furniture online or someone took you to the store. The TVs were at least out of their boxes so you could use them. Wonwoo’s admission of checking the closet was an event. Along with the TVs and PS5, inside the closet was a new Xbox and wall mounts, all covered in bows as well. You also managed to kick Wonwoo’s ass figuratively since he gorilla glued the bows to the boxes which was not fun to find out when you unboxed everything. 

You didn’t really have the time (or motivation) to set the systems, your computer, or mount the TVs. Jeonghan, Joshua, or both were almost always around, which you loved and appreciated, and they loved to take up your time and get your mind off whatever worried you. If they weren’t able to take you places, Sona was around. Since having a somewhat normal schedule now that she was your ‘assistance’, Sona made you at least leave the apartment to go food shopping once a week. 

“I’m just picking up a package from my old place.” You said into the phone, hearing Joshua hum in return. 

“Okay, I’ll order some food for when you get back.” 

“Order Hannie something too, please. He said he’d be back later tonight.” Punching in the door code, you sighed, passing the mail room. “ Rheia said one of her ladies left the box in her place for me.” 

“Mhmm, I’ll see you when you get back.”

Hanging up, you took the elevator up to your old floor, making it to Ms. Nina’s door. She texted you the entrance code to her home when you informed you about the package, along with a comment that she is doing well and hopes the move was alright. You don’t remember ordering something and forgetting to have it shipped to your new place, but…you have been ordering a decent amount recently from different places. 

Thankfully it wasn’t hard to find, placed neatly on the console table near the door. It wasn’t too large, maybe a foot long, wide, and high if you had to guess. Lifting it was light and it was tabled up well, maybe a little excessively to keep whatever you ordered protected. 

Rush hour traffic gave you time to wrack your brain on what it could be, but there wasn’t a thing on the packaging to give any indication, only a nicely printed label with your name and old address. Unless you forgot something, nothing came to mind. 

“I’m back!” Yelling into your apartment, you dropped your bag on the kitchen island, along with the box. 

“Hey.” Joshua came from the master bedroom, shuffling over to circle his arms around your waist when he got close enough. “Food should be here soon.” 

“Thank god, I forgot to eat lunch, Busy day.” Kissing his cheek then his lips, you leaned into his hold. “Can you do me a favor?” 

“Anything.” Joshua kissed the top of your head. 

“Can you grab my laptop and charger? I need to finish a few emails before I forget tomorrow.” 

He smiled down at you, nosing scrunching up. “Of course.” 

With him off to fetch what you asked for, you grabbed a pair of scissors from a drawer, starting to cut the tape to open the box. You were met with styrofoam and an…unpleasant smell reaching your nose. You almost gagged but it wasn’t too bad. 

“What the hell did I-” Lifting the lid on the styrofoam, the rotting smell hit you hard, and as you looked in, a nearly blood curdling scream left your through. 

There was a crash as you stepped away, sliding your back down the fridge until you hit the floor. Joshua yelled out your name but you slapped a hand over your mouth and scrambled to the trash can to throw up. 

“Oh my god.” Joshua gagged, but he kept his composure the best he could. He placed the lid back on top to lessen the smell and made his way over to check on you. “I’m gonna call-” 

You threw up once more, barely holding your hair back the best you could for yourself. He stayed at your side, helping hold your hair as he called everyone . 

Sona was the first to show up, already in the building, the first call on Joshua’s list. She took over Joshua’s place for a moment, allowing him to talk properly. She rubbed your back and held your hair through your second bout of sickness. You asked for water, which she hurried to get you, even an ice pack to cool you down. You couldn’t get the words to tell her what happened but when your boyfriend came back, he was able to fill her in. 

Seokmin, Jihoon, and Jun were in the penthouse and showed up not long after Joshua hung up. Wonwoo, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, Vernon, and Mingyu were only a few minutes behind. 

“Jesus Christ.” You heard Wonwoo stutter out, surprised at the contents. “Dead mice?” he was really trying to whisper, yet you honed in on it and the image in your head had you throwing up stomach acid once again. 

Jun cleared his throat, speaking quietly. “Guys, there are thirteen of them.” 

“Shut it.” Joshua warned. 

“Sona,” You huffed out, barely able to speak from the burning in your throat. “Can you help me?” 

You didn’t realize tears had fallen from your eyes until she whipped them away. 

“Yeah, come on.” She easily helped you up and out of the area. Sona got you into the closest bathroom in the makeshift storage room, setting you down on the closed toilet seat. 

“Why me?” You weakly managed to ask and Sona sighed, taking a hand towel to wipe off your makeup. 

“I don’t know,” She pushed your hair back, being gentle with you, maybe scared you’d break at a moment's notice. “But you know we will figure it out.” 

“Will you…drive me to and from work when Seokmin can’t?” 

Sona gave a sad laugh, nodding her head. “Yeah, of course I will, Mouse.”

She easily got your makeup off, brushing your hair back more. You could hear talking from the guys and it’s like every other stalker attack all over again. Everyone was in your home, talking about it, trying to whisper, and keeping you protected. There was a large chance Wonwoo wasn’t going to find anything significant, you’d be back to square one, and you wouldn’t know how to get anything without risking yourself. 

You thought about it, probably shouldn’t have. None of them would let you execute the horrible plan you concocted in your head. They’d never let you use yourself as bait, no matter how much it was planned out and followed to a T.

“Mouse?” Sona broke you out of your train of thought, “Let's get you up and into your room.” 

You let her lead you out of the room, placing herself behind you so you wouldn’t look over your shoulder to the guys. She pretty much forced you to change and lovingly brushed your hair before braiding it loosely to keep neat. She asked you a few times if you needed anything, but you shook your head, knowing you weren’t going to be able to eat now. You had a headache and you were dizzy, yet you only asked Sona if she could lay down with you for a little bit. Though she looked worried, she did, more sitting up as you curled up under the thick blankets beside her legs. 

You didn’t know how long you laid there, but without any warning you sat up and left bed, quickly followed behind by Sona. 

“Guys-” You coughed weakly and cleared your throat. 

They were littered around the living room and kitchen, the box was gone but they all looked as tired as you felt. 

Seungkwan was the closest to you and he tucked you into his side, resting his chin on your head to provide comfort. You let out a shaky sigh and stepped back from him, straightening your shoulders. 

“Are you hungry?” Mingyu tried to offer but you shook your head. “Do you need something?” 

“No, fuck, let me-” You shaked out your limbs, groaning in frustration. “I can’t fucking think.”

Joshua approached you, holding his hand out and you took it, you didn’t see Jeonghan or Seungcheol, but you know they had a meeting tonight, which was why Jeonghan would have been home late. 

“I don’t even know why I came out here-” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you balled your free hand into a fist. “I’m frustrated, I’m fucking angry to the point that I should definitely not be around any weapons right now, and I’m fed up of this bullshit. How can this person just…” You almost let out a growl in anger. 

“How can this person slip through our fingers every time? Why the hell is he obsessed with me? It doesn’t make sense and I’m-” You could feel yourself boiling, the internal pot ready to spill over in rage and you needed to keep it below the surface. “This isn’t going to stop.” 

“Mouse, you don’t know that.” Wonwoo spoke up, shaking his head. 

“No offense, Wonu, but I can’t believe that at the moment after everything.” You pushed out a long breath, closing your eyes to center yourself. “You’ve all done everything to find this person – people –, but nothing has come up so far.” 

“I’m sorry.” Joshua whispered, tightening his hold on your head, dropping his head some. 

“I’m not asking you to stop looking, I want you to continue, I just…I don’t know how much gas I have left in me before I’m at my full wits end.” 

“I’m not…saying you should come over, but it would be nice.” You muttered into the phone, hearing the bright laughter from Seungcheol. 

“Yeah, I’ll ditch the fight ring tonight.” 

“Good, I could use some help setting up the two game systems you got me.” 

“Don’t know what you are talking about, I’ll see you in about an hour, Mouse.” 

“You can let yourself in.” 

“Got it, see you soon.” 

You weren’t going to tell him you were curled up on the couch, not wanting to be alone since Joshua and Jeonghan wouldn’t be home until late again. Everyone, however, knew you had barely left the apartment. Seokmin and Sona went back to driving you to and from work, you ordered groceries or someone picked them up if you asked. You hadn’t slept alone since the box incident. 

Nearly three weeks since then and everyone either said nothing or tiptoed around the issue. The only time you got a proper, straight answer was when you sat both your boyfriends down and asked. They confirmed Jun’s statement, that there were thirteen dead mice in the box, however further investigation showed each of them had the guys’ initials carved into them. When being disposed of, there was a picture of just you with Xs cut into your eyes. 

Wonwoo was your next target of information, you cornered him at the house the first weekend after but there wasn’t much to say. The tracking number, barcodes, and everything else was a spoof, fake. Security footage showed the usual mail currier dropping it off but a further look into it came up just as short. None of it made sense, whoever sent it was incredible at covering their tracks and knew of SVT. 

So, whenever you are alone, you’ve been online shopping for everyone’s Christmas presents. When one came in, you made Sona open them as a precaution (except when it was hers that came in, Jeonghan did that) and hid most of them in your ‘storage’ room closet under a bunch of other boxes. All of them were there, except for Jeonghan’s, whose present was at Sona’s since he was nosy. Joshua was more patient. 

It was only two-ish weeks until the holidays and you weren’t in any proper Christmas mood. Mingyu and Chan were decorating the house, seeing as all of them would be home for the holidays. Joshua was alongside them with the holiday spirit with them, helping every chance we could. 

“I brought tacos.” Seungcheol called through your home, giving a sympathetic pout when he noticed you wrapped up in a blanket. “Mouse…”

You focused back in, getting up quickly. “Hey- I was going to clean up but-” 

Placing the bag of take out down, Seungcheol hurried over, shaking his head. “No no, it’s okay. It isn’t a problem.”

Sucking in a deep breath, you felt him pull you into his arms. “Things have been difficult.” 

“I know. No one is expecting you to be perfect.” His voice was as soft as the gaze he set down to you. “You don’t have to explain.” 

You stayed in his hold for a few moments, basking in the warmth you didn’t have when alone. “Do you want to eat in the game room and get everything set up?” 

He nodded, tracing his fingers down your arms until he would hold your smaller hands, letting his thumbs run over your knuckles. “Maybe…we can watch a movie too? I can set stuff up and turn this into a little…date?” 

“Yeah. I’d like that, Cheol, a lot.” 

You and Seungcheol sat on the couch in your game room, eating as he worked on getting the consoles set up. Previously, you at least removed them from their boxes once an entertainment system was bought and built. He really tried to have you pick a dumb tag name each time, liking the joke of Mighty Mouse . You absolutely denied his pressing, laughing at his pouting and whining even when he fell into your lap. 

Seungcheol did relent nonetheless, but he was content with settling in your personal space, not that you minded. You let him rest most of his weight against you, laying between your legs with his back to your chest. He easily finished the job, making sure both systems were up to date and operating properly. When things were to his satisfaction, he logged into one of the many streaming services they shared, scrolling through movie options until one was agreed upon. 

He got up and ran to your living room to get some blankets as it loaded, settling back between your legs after silently asking permission with his eyes. This time, he had his head barely over your chest, arms wrapped around your waist. It was new for the both of you, but everything felt comfortable. He felt comfortable. The weight was welcoming, calming, and you weren’t really plagued with the intrusive thoughts you’ve been dealing with. 

Halfway through the movie, you were dozing in and out. A peek down showed Cheol he was in a similar state, eyes half lidded and lips parted as his breathing slowed. Reaching up, you ever so slowly threaded your fingers through his hair and he sucked in a breath, groaning out a question. You huffed out a chuckle, curling a piece of hair around your finger. 

“Go back to sleep, you were cute.” 

Seungcheol scoffed, snuggled back into his place playing on your front, arms tightening around you. “ ‘m not cute.” 

“Mhmm, keep telling yourself that.”

He grumbled, muttering something you couldn’t understand, eyes fully closed and you assumed he fell asleep. You couldn’t reach the remote or control to turn either the TV or console off so you simply let yourself join him in slumber.

“That was a great set of fights.” Jeonghan hummed, stretching his arms above his head, a satisfying pop leaving his body. “I’d like for Jihoon to be a regular but that’ll never happen.” 

“Absolutely not. He’d only fight in free-for-alls. You saw him.” Joshua rolled his neck, waiting for the elevator to reach Mouse’s floor. 

Jeonghan chuckled, quiet and airy, dramatically letting himself lean against the elevator wall. “He uses my club for anger management.” 

Joshua rolled his eyes, laughing as he shook his head. “And you used his club to lure Mouse and I together.” 

The other man huffed, rolling his eyes. “Touche. He can free-for-all whenever we have it, which I’m thinking should be after the holidays.” 

“Man, I’m ready to crash after a shower. It was packed and the heater was somehow still blowing all the hot air out.” 

“Yeah, I gotta get the heater checked out.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “Sorry about that.” 

Joshua waved his friend off, stepping into the hallway and down the hall to the door. He tapped in the lock code, frowning at the majority of the lights on. Joshua looked to Jeonghan but the latter shrugged. 

“She forgets sometimes.” Was all he said. 

Frowning, Joshua started to shut off some of the lights as Jeonghan strolled down the hall, coming to a stop at Mouse’s game room. Joshua joined him, seeing the grin on the other’s face. 

Glancing into the room, he was met with Mouse and Seungcheol asleep, with the leader curled comfortably on top of her. Jeonghan only snickered, nodding his head almost proudly. 

Joshua…He of course knew that Mouse was going out, kinda , with Seungcheol. She was honest, there were multiple long conversations to make sure the three were on the same page and comfortable. He knew everything was moving slowly at her request. With everything throwing her life into a constant state of chaos, this was the first, if he remembered, that they had been together alone in a bit. Seeing them laying there wasn’t uncomfortable, they – he – trusted her to talk to them. Really it made him feel at ease that when he or Jeonghan weren’t able to be with her, Seungcheol would be. 

Jeonghan nudged him with his elbow, crossing his arms. “It’s cute.” He whispered, a fond gaze in his eyes. 

Joshua hummed, giving a small nod. “We should wake him up at least. He will wake up really uncomfortable if he stays there.” 

Nodding in agreement, Jeonghan shuffled into the room, shaking Seungcheol awake, but that also woke up Mouse. Joshua hurried in, hearing them both grumble and whine at the disturbance. Quietly, the second oldest managed to get their leader up while Joshua tried to keep Mouse from fully waking up. 

She latched onto him like a koala, letting Joshua lift her up and get carried to her bedroom. Mouse muttered a goodnight to Seungcheol on the way out of the room but her head was nestled into his neck. 

“Let’s get you into bed.” He whispered, pulling the blankets back but she whined and held on tighter. “Sweetheart, come on, I’m covered in sweat. I need to shower.” 

Mouse pulled away quickly, staring up at him with wide eyes but furrowed brows. “What did you just say?” 

“That I need to shower?” 

“No, the first thing.” 

Joshua’s eyebrows furrowed together, confused. “That I’m covered in sweat?” 

“No-” Mouse sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “What did you call me?” 

“...Sweetheart?” 

“Yeah! That! You’ve never called me a pet name before.”

“Bullshit, yes I have.” 

Jeonghan’s laugh made his way to Joshua’s ears. “No you haven’t, not once.” 

Cocking his head to the side, Joshua thought back, running quickly through handfuls of conversations he has had with his girlfriend. There had to be- wait…no, he really didn’t call her a single pet name. 

“Oh.” He blinked, coming to the realization. 

“Yeah.” Mouse fully let him go, crawling under the covers. “Both of you shower, you woke me up and I want to sleep through the night.” 

Joshua scoffed a laugh and stole a kiss to her lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

[DJ Leaf Blower Fanclub]  {Yoyojun 11:19 AM}  Who changed the GC name?  {Yunhooooe 11:35 AM} Not me {Hyeonie 11:41 AM}  Same, I blame Chan or Woo  {WooBoo 11:59 AM}  It was me Anyways, sluts, who wants to go out? 

You peeked down at your phone, one arm linked with Sona’s as you strolled through the grocery store aisles. She had stopped by and practically dragged you from your home to ‘ get some fresh air, sun, and food’ . 

“Who’s that?” Sona raised a brow, unlinking your arms to get something off the shelf to her side. 

“99 line chat.” You sighed at the near continuous notifications. “They want to go out – or at least Woo does.” 

“Are you going to join?” The question had you already saying no internally. 

Shaking your head, you snatched something off the shelf and tossed it in your basket, a bag of expensive chocolate. “Nah, not feeling it.” 

[To DJ Leaf Blower Fanclub 12:05 PM] I’m out, no thanks. Have fun without me. Sorry guys.  {BunBin 12:06 PM}  Boing, come on, Mo.  {Hyeonie 12:06 PM}  Please don’t leave me alone with them {WooBoo 12:07 PM}  Us? Don’t leave us alone with her, she’ll kill us. {Channie 12:08 PM}  Mouse come on. You haven’t left the house in days.

“And that is where I mute the chat.” You tapped away before sliding your phone into your shoulder bag. 

Sona questioned if you needed anything else but you had a nearly full basic and you let her lead you towards the registers. You were thankful to her, really, if someone ever walked too close, she placed herself between you and the random. Her head was on a constant swivel and beneath the sweatpants and oversized sweatshirts, she concealed a gun. 

Once through the line and out the doors, Sona spoke up. 

“So why aren’t you agreeing to meet with a group of trained killers that are your friends?” She closed the car door behind her, getting the car turned on. 

“Because I don’t wanna go out?” 

“Mouse,” Sona rolled her eyes, looking over unimpressed at the answer. “You’d have more guns and knives there than with me.” 

You pushed out a deep breath, buckling your seatbelt. “I’m just not feeling it. Can we just get home? Please?” 

The apartment was silent when you arrived back. You were going to head up to the house, but something urgent came up for the oldest three and multiple of the others were covering things for them. Staying at your apartment was your best bet and you wouldn’t know what to do if you were truly alone in that house.

While you could have cooked with things you had in your fridge, you decided to order food, informing the doormen to deliver it up to you once it was checked. You were thankful as well for them too, having the entire building staffed by SVT personnel that were kept up to date with need to know information. 

You sat curled under a blanket in the corner of the couch, your favorite take out on your lap. The TV was playing a random rerun but you were focused on your phone, going through the abundance of Tik Toks multiple of the guys sent you and some of 99 line members. 

A knock had you lifting your head, confused at the intrusion to your quiet. Another knock, louder than the last, harder, and quiet murmurs heard just beyond the door had you curious. 

Moving to stand, you placed your food aside on the coffee table, grumbling quietly until you reached the door. Standing on your tiptoes to peer through the peephole, you hit your head against the door as you unlocked it, pulling the door open. 

“I told you guys I’m-”

Pushing past you, Wooyoung and Yeonjun skipped in, bright and loud as always. Now that you could see them and take them in properly, they all wore what you assumed was lounge or pajama outfits, a few with pillows in hand. The rest of the 99 line, Chan included, stood at the doorway, bags of snacks and small, apologetic smiles on their faces. 

“They said if all of us couldn’t go out then we wouldn’t.” Yunho bowed his head, rubbing the back of his neck. He bowed his head once more when you moved aside to let them in.

“Then Chan said to come to you, Mo.” Changbin gave you a pat on the shoulder as he stepped inside. 

“Sorry.” Chan meekly apologized as Gahyeon kissed you on the cheek and skipped inside. “You haven’t gotten out much recently…” 

You scoffed but smiled, pulling him into a tight hug. He wrapped you up in his arms, sighing quietly. “It’s okay, bub.”

“Bitch, this place is amazing!” The excited squeak of the other woman in the group was heard, hearing the pitter patter of multiple pairs of feet against the hardwood floors. 

“I’m thinking tacos.” Wooyoung said to San, sitting on your kitchen island. “Mo, do you want tacos?” 

Closing and locking the door after finishing your hug with Chan, you moved over to the kitchen, shaking your head. “I kinda already ate. Order what you want.” 

“AKA, order you some so you don’t steal our shit, got it.” Mingi snickered, opening your fridge. “Alcohol?” 

“Bottom cabinet to the right of you. I only have wine right now though.” 

He cringed, pushing his glasses up. “Woo, add fireball to the list, and maybe tequila.” 

Typing away on his phone – or you thought it was Changbin’s from the phone case –, Wooyoung kicked his feet, probably placing an order. He had the phone passed around so everyone could get what they wanted off a delivery app. Chan called down to let the doormen know things were coming, along with the second separate delivery of alcohol. 

Your little group already started getting comfortable on the couch, blankets and pillows thrown about to settle in. Chan and Gahyeon were at both your sides once you sat down while they argued with the rest to figure out the next step of the evening. You stayed quiet, chuckling at their attempts as negotiation. 

“Horror movie drinking games?” Yeonjun suggested, looking at the group. 

“You, San, and Hyeon won’t last with how little you can drink.” You laughed, feeling a hit to your arm from the mentioned woman. “What? San taps out at two, you get clingy, and Yeonjun can’t stay away and gets sentimental!” 

“And you,” Chan nudged you, “Don’t know how to keep your mouth shut. Ms. I’ve worn heels higher than your dick size .” 

They caused an uproar of laughter and you covered your face, trying to control the blush creeping up your cheeks. “I can’t believe I said that out loud and challenged him after.” 

“It’s okay, Mouse, you won’t shut up to begin with.” That had you tossing a pillow across the way, aimed at Wooyoung’s face. 

“This is my apartment, you know.”

“Okay, and? I ordered tacos for everyone.” 

“Yeah, on my credit card.” Changbin rolled his eyes. 

You don’t really…remember a lot after all the alcohol and food got devoured. Drinking games started rather quickly and it got loud first. 

Cracking your eyes open, you groaned at the headache that plagued you. It felt like a hammer was beating rhythmically into your eyes. The curtains were open and that wasn’t helping the massive hangover you were sporting- 

Wait. 

When did you get into bed last night?

Lifting your head, you were met with Gahyeon cuddling up into your chest and another body pressed against your back. As you looked around, wincing at the light, you were definitely in your bed and Yeosang was back to back with you, knocked out cold. You would see someone was on the other side of Gahyeon but the blanket over the person didn’t let you know who it was. 

Though extremely slow, you managed to remove yourself from Gahyeon and stumble out of bed and shut the curtains to spare the rest when they got up. You made your way to the bathroom for pain killers, shivering at the cold tile beneath your feet. Despite the lights being off in the bathroom, your reflection looked pale, maybe a little green but you weren’t feeling sick, thankfully. You were glad you could hold your alcohol better than in college. 

Creeping your way out of the room, you weren’t too surprised to find the apartment almost completely silent, but the aroma of coffee floated you to the kitchen to find Chan awake. He was sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, with one of your mugs in hand. Almost all the lights were off except for the one above the stove. As you shuffled closer, you noted most of the others sprawled out, tucked comfortably on the couch. 

“Hey.” You whispered, quietly pouring yourself a cup of coffee and joined him on the floor. “I have a table, you know?” 

“Floor cold. Head hurt. Don’t wanna move.” The words were slow and he punctuated it with a long gulp of coffee. 

“Do you know what time it is?” You had forgotten your phone – or well, you didn’t know where it was in the apartment currently. 

Weakly, he shook his head. “No clue. Don’t care.” 

You scooted closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “We really overdid it. I’m surprised my place is clean after a blackout.” 

Chan huffed a sorry excuse for a laugh, resting his cheek on your head. “You shit talked with Mingi while you cleaned up all the trash. That’s really all I can remember that late.” 

“I vaguely remember everything from the first movie and some from the beginning of the second, but everything after that is fuzzy. I know we finished it but there was a lot of alcohol.” 

“You went toe to toe with Yunho and Changbin. I’m not even surprised.” 

Sitting (kinda) comfortably, you let the painkillers and coffee do particle work on the headache that still pounded. Then…both of your stomach grumbled and you managed to share a quiet laugh. 

You reluctantly got up, tiptoeing around the room until you located your phone half under San’s sleeping form. He stirred when you moved his arm but further cuddled into one of your couch pillows. With Chan’s help, you pretty much ordered a whole buffet of brunch for everyone, minus the mimosas after the rager last night. 

As you waited, you finally went through any messages from the night and morning.

[Threeway]  {Hannie  2:41 AM} I know it’s late, love, but we aren’t going to be home until tomorrow evening.  {Shua 2:46 AM} I heard Chan went over, hopefully you slept well, Sweetheart. {Hannie 10:31 AM} I miss my Mouse.  I say we order in and stay in bed. Actually I demand it. 

Shaking your head, you smiled, typing out a reply. 

[To Threeway 11:44AM] Hi, goodmorning, I just got up a bit ago. Chan ended up bringing all of 99 line here and we…drank a lot. Ordered us some brunch so we could at least eat.  I’ll see you later. I miss you both.

Almost instantly, they both replied. 

{Hannie 11:45 AM} Ah, my baby, make sure to take care of yourself until we get home.  {Shua 11:46 AM} I’m glad you had a good night. I was worried. I missed you too, I’ll see you soon.

“You guys are cringe.” Chan read over your shoulder, sipping his coffee. 

“You’re just mad you are single.” You elbowed him gently, and shook your head. “Please start waking them in the living room and I’ll get the three in my room and whoever took the couch in the game room.” 

He gave a thumbs up as you shuffled off to your room. Your first stop was the bathroom, fetching the large bottle of painkillers everyone would definitely need. 

Stepping towards the side of your bed, you smiled softly at the peaceful look on Yeosang’s face. You shook him gently, trying not to spook him but he got startled, head whipping up, only for a painful groan to follow. You apologized and hushed him, taking out a few pills and handing them over. He gave you a puzzled look, like he was trying to turn on his brain and understand what you were offering him. Once he understood, or you thought he did, Yeosang sat up and downed the pills you offered. Rounding the bed, you silently chuckled seeing Changbin curled beside Gahyeon. Unlike Yeosang, they didn’t startle but they whined in pain. You handed them some painkillers as well before letting the three of them know food would be arriving soon. 

Leaving them to fully come to consciousness, you found Yeonjun in your game room. He, surprisingly, was awake when you walked in, mumbling a good morning and thanking you for the medicine. You got him up and into the living room, just in time to see the others at least awake. The bottle of painkillers was passed around to the rest of the group as Chan made everyone a cup of coffee, pulling out the sugar and creamer. 

No one said much, not even when your sleepover buddies left your room to join the masses. You made quick work getting plates and utensils for when the buffet arrived, being careful to not make too much clinking noise and not wanting to waste too much time getting them fed. 

You moved quickly when there was a knock at the door, eyes wide when you saw three men from the front desk and Sona carrying multiple bags of food between them all. Apologies fell from your lips as you took them one after another and placed them down but the four brushed your words off. The men bowed before they walked off, however you stopped Sona before she left. You raised a brow at how dolled up she looked for a Saturday morning. 

“Got a date?” You asked, only for her to shake her head and attempt to wave you off. 

“Date? No-” She frowned, averting her eyes. “I’m going to brunch with Lex.” 

“Oh.” You stopped yourself from laughing, watching as a blush crept up her neck and to her cheeks. “Ooh~” 

“Don’t-” She stuttered, pointing an accusing finger at you, cringing and begging. “Don’t do that-” 

“So we like her?” You wiggled your eyebrows, smirking. “We like like Lex?” 

“Mouse, I hate you. I’m gonna be late.” Sona left in a hurry and you closed the door, knowing you’d be annoying her soon about it. 

Chan and Yeosang, two of the best boys around, unpacked a majority of the food with a line of hungover and hungry killers. Yeah, that was a funny statement to think, seeing it was funnier with their rumbled clothes and tousled bedhead. The moment the two moved (after grabbing their own plates), food was being taken and distributed and conversations started to flow. You grabbed food last and Yunho saved you a space for a chair so no one took up too much room. 

“Ah fuck, I forgot I had a meeting this morning.” Wooyoung placed his head down on the table beside his plate, phone in hand. “Hongjoong is gonna kill me. It was supposed to be with a distributor.” 

“Give me your phone.” You held out your hand. “I can make him not be mad.” 

“How do you plan on doing that?” Mingi questioned as Wooyoung handed the phone over, Hangjoon’s contact up on the screen. 

“Easy, Hongjoong liked me, and I can be a pretty decent liar.” You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath. Dialing the number, you motioned with a finger to your lips for everyone to stay quiet. 

“Wooyoung, I’m going to kick your ass, This meeting was-” 

You let out a shaky breath, making your tone sad and slow. “Hongjoong, it’s Mouse.” 

“Mo- Where is Wooyoung?” He sounded concerned under his annoyance. 

“He is here. It’s my fault he wasn’t up in time, I’m sorry- Wooyoung and everyone showed up yesterday because they wanted to cheer me up with everything going on-” You fake sniffled like you were crying and continued to ramble. “They stayed up late trying to calm me down and get me to sleep-” 

“Hey, okay-” His tone was panicked. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll lie and reschedule it. Tell Wooyoung we’ll talk later-” 

“Please don’t be mad at him,” You pleaded, a shake to your voice. Everyone’s eyes were wide. “It’s my fault, please don’t get angry at him-” 

“Fine, fine, I won’t, just- get them back here soon-” 

“I will, I’m sorry.” 

Hongjoong said goodbye before hanging up and you shook your head, clearing your throat and placing Wooyoung’s phone down on the table. All pairs of eyes were set on you and you went back to eating. 

“She’s a witch.” Changbin whispered, jaw dropped. 

Wooyoung looked at his phone, astonished by your entire skit. “Mouse, I know you have two boyfriends, but I think I’m in love with you.”

You laughed, throwing your head back. “It was nothing! Not a problem.” 

“How were you not a part of an underground group before this?” San asked, staring blankly. 

“You aren’t the first to ask me that. I blame the foster care system for that.” You let your shoulders shake as you continued to chuckle. “Eat, come on, we all drank too much last night.” 

“Okay, mom .” Yeosang snorted, going back to his food. 

99 line left not long after everyone finished eating and helped clean up. Anything left over was taken with them or quickly finished from their containers. You told Chan he could stay if he wanted, but he inevitably went to the penthouse and most likely knocked out. They all made promises on the way out the door to check in more and keep an eye out and you hugged each of them tightly as they left. 

You, though sleepy, managed to clean up the rest of the living room, change your bedsheets, and two full loads of laundry before your boyfriends came back. 

It was nearly five in the evening when you heard the door to your home open and the thud of a bag against the floor. You jumped up from the couch in the game room, playing one of Wonwoo’s games since he shared his account, and nearly sprinted into the living room. You collided into the two of them, arms wrapping around both of their necks and pulling them close to you, sighing out happily to have them near. 

“I missed you both.” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

Jeonghan tiredly laughed, placing a kiss on your temple, one arm wrapping loosely around your waist. “It was only a night and I wished you were there.” 

“He would not stop complaining.” Joshua teased, running a hand up your spine to keep you close. “Not that I was much better.” 

“I need all my missed attention and more food.” You pulled away, smiling lovingly up at them, giving each  a short kiss. “What shall we order?” 

It took all of ten minutes to decide on what to order, only to usher them off to shower and get out of their work clothes. You insisted on them cleaning up so you could finish getting the room clean despite them wanting to help, only to cite Jeonghan’s text from the morning of wanting to just stay in bed. You could see how tired they were, both probably stayed up all night to get whatever work done. 

You pulled up a streaming service on your TV in the bedroom while one showered in the ensuite and the other in the bathroom in the hallway. The blankets were just pulled from the dyer, which Jeonghan would greatly appreciate, and you also had Joshua’s favorite fluffy blanket on his side of the bed. 

By the time both were showered and ready for a chill evening, the food had arrived and you set everything up on the bed to devour. One movie turned into two, along with a change from you cuddling one or the other to both scooting in closer, two pairs of hands on you. Their warmth was always welcoming, not suffocating as some people could get from such proximity. Joshua had his arm under you, your head resting on his shoulder while Jeonghan was pressed into your side, head resting over your chest. 

The peace was blissful, calm compared to the chaos of the previous evening. Jeonghan’s eyes were droopy, barely able to stay open, and his breathing was slowing. Turning your head showed your second significant other in a similar exhausted state that he was almost losing the fight to. 

But the vibration of your phone pulled you away. You tugged it from your sweatshirt pocket, seeing Cheol’s contact name lighting up the screen. Hushing Jeonghan’s whine, you answered, speaking softly. 

“Hello?” 

“Did you talk to Hongjoong earlier?” 

You had to stop yourself from laughing, hiding your face in Jeonghan’s hair. “Yeah, I did.” 

“What did you do to make him feel bad? He called me saying that he was concerned.” Thankfully, he sounded amused.

“Had to get Wooyoung out of trouble by pulling some heart strings and using the fact that he likes me as a friend to my advantage.” 

A tired chuckle was heard and you melted into bed. “Just don’t do it again, okay?” 

“Cheol, you and I both know that I can’t promise shit.” 

He laughed louder, bright and cute. “ That’s my girl. Have a good night.” 

Joshua stole the device from your hand once the call ended, turning off the TV and snuggling into you. “What was that about?” 

You snickered, kissing the top of Jeonghan’s head then kissing Joshua sweetly on the lips. “Just played a little trick on Hongjoong to save Wooyoung earlier. Nothing to worry about.” 

“I have zero trust in that.” He tugged the blankets up under your chin, even making sure the man on your other side was warm and cozy. 

“Maybe you and Hannie are just bad influences.” 

“Never said we were good ones either.” 

You let him get comfy, his other arm coming down to wrap around your waist just above Jeonghan’s. “Go to sleep.” 

“That is the plan.” He murmured and you followed behind quickly thereafter.

Tag List is Open! Comment on the BSH Master List to get added!

Tag List:

@unlikelysublimekryptonite @iiaweirdo @aurorajoye @gaslysainz @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @vanteel @clownprincehoeshi @kpopandbookschild @honeybunchcrunch @black-swan-blog27 @peachie-wonu @kpopsimpsblog

(this tag list not working is kicking my ass, I'M SORRY)

[simsinter]

The Comprehensive Guide to Hydraulic Lifting Tools

Hydraulic lifting tools are indispensable in various industries, providing a reliable and efficient solution for lifting and moving heavy objects. From construction sites to automotive repair shops, these tools are designed to handle significant weights with precision and ease. Understanding the types, applications, and benefits of hydraulic lifting tools is essential for maximizing their effectiveness and ensuring safety in your operations.

Types of Hydraulic Lifting Tools

Hydraulic Jacks: Hydraulic jacks are commonly used for lifting vehicles, machinery, and other heavy loads. There are several types of hydraulic jacks, including floor jacks, bottle jacks, and scissor jacks:

Floor Jacks: Often used in automotive workshops, floor jacks are designed to lift vehicles off the ground. They feature a low-profile design that allows for easy access under cars.

Bottle Jacks: These jacks have a compact, cylindrical shape and are capable of lifting heavier loads compared to floor jacks. They are suitable for tasks requiring high lifting capacity in confined spaces.

Scissor Jacks: Scissor jacks are used for lifting vehicles or equipment by extending a scissor-like mechanism. They are commonly found in roadside emergency kits and are known for their portability and ease of use.

Hydraulic Cylinders: Hydraulic cylinders are used for lifting, pushing, or pulling heavy objects. They operate by applying hydraulic pressure to a piston, which then generates a significant force. These cylinders come in various sizes and capacities, making them suitable for different applications, including construction, manufacturing, and repair work.

Hydraulic Lifts: Hydraulic lifts are essential in settings where lifting and positioning are required, such as in warehouses and industrial facilities. They include:

Lift Tables: Lift tables are used to elevate workpieces to a comfortable working height, improving ergonomics and productivity. They can be adjusted to different heights and are often used in assembly lines.

Platform Lifts: Platform lifts are designed to move goods or personnel vertically within a facility. They can be installed in various configurations, including pit-mounted or surface-mounted.

Applications of Hydraulic Lifting Tools

Hydraulic lifting tools are versatile and find applications in numerous industries:

Automotive Repair: Hydraulic jacks and lifts are crucial for vehicle maintenance and repairs. They allow technicians to lift vehicles to access undercarriages and perform necessary repairs.

Construction: Hydraulic cylinders and lifts are used in construction for tasks such as hoisting materials, positioning heavy equipment, and supporting structures during assembly.

Manufacturing: In manufacturing, hydraulic lifting tools are employed to move and position heavy parts, machinery, and tools, enhancing efficiency and precision in production processes.

Warehouse Operations: Hydraulic lifts and tables are used in warehouses to handle heavy inventory, improve storage solutions, and facilitate efficient loading and unloading.

Benefits of Hydraulic Lifting Tools

Efficiency: Hydraulic lifting tools provide powerful lifting capabilities with minimal effort, allowing for quick and efficient handling of heavy loads. This efficiency can significantly reduce the time and labor required for various tasks.

Safety: These tools enhance safety by providing a stable and controlled lifting mechanism. They reduce the risk of accidents associated with manual lifting and handling, protecting both operators and equipment.

Precision: Hydraulic tools offer precise control over lifting operations, ensuring that loads are raised or lowered to exact heights. This precision is crucial for tasks that require careful positioning and alignment.

Versatility: Hydraulic lifting tools come in various sizes and capacities, making them suitable for a wide range of applications. Their adaptability allows them to be used in diverse settings and industries.

Maintenance and Care

Proper maintenance is essential for ensuring the longevity and performance of hydraulic lifting tools. Regular checks for hydraulic fluid levels, leaks, and wear and tear are necessary to keep these tools in optimal condition. Additionally, following manufacturer guidelines for maintenance and operation will help prevent malfunctions and extend the tool's lifespan.

Conclusion

Hydraulic lifting tools are vital for efficient and safe handling of heavy loads across various industries. From jacks and cylinders to lifts and tables, these tools offer powerful and precise solutions for lifting and positioning tasks. Understanding their types, applications, and benefits can help you select the right hydraulic tools for your needs and ensure their effective use in your operations. Investing in quality hydraulic lifting tools and maintaining them properly will enhance productivity, safety, and overall performance in your work environment. For more details visit our website: www.simsinter.com

[casuperlift]

Hydraulic Lift Tables for Sale: Elevate Your Material Handling Efficiency

Optimizing the material handling process is crucial in this fast-paced industrial landscape. Advanced material handling equipment like hydraulic lift tables is designed to ensure workplace safety for workers. These tables are versatile and innovative equipment and have become a game-changer in material handling. If you are looking for hydraulic lift tables for sale, you have to understand their benefits and applications. This post will let you understand the efficiency and how it can contribute to handling the material. 

Hydraulic lift tables are mainly designed to raise and lower heavy loads safely, thanks to their platforms mounted on scissor-like legs that extend and retract using hydraulic cylinders. The hydraulic system especially enables the smooth and precise vertical movement that adjusts the load's height to the designated position. 

Hydraulic lift table

Advantages of hydraulic lift tables 

Improved ergonomics and safety 

The first and foremost benefit of hydraulic lift tables is they are capable of reducing workplace injuries by allowing the workers to position loads at an ergonomic height. The lift tables minimize the requirement of bending, reaching, or lifting heavy items manually, preventing potential musculoskeletal disorders. 

Versatility and Adaptability 

Hydraulic lift tables are available in different types of sizes and weight capacities that make them adaptable to a wide range of industrial applications. They can also handle heavy loads and accommodate the different shapes and sizes of the materials catering to meet various requirements across different industries. 

Easy to load and position 

Hydraulic lift tables are easy to control, and they allow the operators to position the loads accurately. This type of control is generally valuable in delicate operations where precise alignment and assembly are crucial. 

Space optimization 

Hydraulic lift tables are compact and require less space to operate. Since these are designed to handle vertical movement, it eliminates the requirement for additional equipment or large floor space that makes it warehouses and manufacturing facilities with limited room. 

Save enormous time and labor. 

Hydraulic lift tables save enormous time and labor in warehouse operations. They mainly automate the lifting and lowering process, reducing manual labor requirements. Due to the efficiency, it increases productivity and cost-effectiveness. 

Lift table

Applications of hydraulic lift tables

Material Handling 

Material handling is the prime application of hydraulic lift tables. Due to that, they are widely used in warehouses and distribution centers for loading and unloading heavy pallets, crates, and containers. They can be easily adjusted and can raise the loads to the desired heights, which makes them invaluable in various material handling tasks. 

Assembly lines 

In manufacturing units, hydraulic lift tables play a vital role in assembling the components safely, allowing technicians to position the components thoroughly. 

Workstations 

When workers need to perform any tasks that require customized working height, like packaging, sorting, and quality control, these tables come in handy. 

Automotive industry 

In various automotive workshops, hydraulic lift tables are being used extensively to elevate the vehicles, allowing the mechanics to access the undercarriage easily for repair and maintenance. 

Hydraulic lift tables have completely optimized the material handling sector by offering a safe, efficient, and flexible solution for lifting heavy loads. They are capable of enhancing ergonomics, saving time, and optimizing space. If you are heading a business and looking for hydraulic lift tables for sale, then invest in these swift machines to streamline your operation. 

[whavradio]

Plaistow, N.H., Officials Credit New Equipment for Rescue of Man Trapped Under Lift

A man received, what were described as, minor injuries Monday morning after being trapped between a scissor lift and concrete floor at a Plaistow, N.H. business. Plaistow Fire/Rescue, EMS and Police dispatched just before 9 a.m., to 5 Plaistow Road after receiving emergency 9-1-1 calls. Plaistow Engine 1 arrived within two minutes the crew found a man trapped face down between a mounted scissor…

[outlustings]

You are so immensely talented blease… if you have a ko-fi or anything I’d love to donate 😭

I am desperate for some fluffy post-Mount Massive Miles and his s/o patching each other up 👉🏻👈🏻 could be sfw, could get spicy…. Dealers choice :>

(i don't have a ko-fi idkskskskksls i don't want to take ur money!!! no!!!! you absolute angel!!!!!

so this is kind of slightly clichéd angsty trying to deal with trauma while hiding in some dingy motel from murkoff and uh. you guys order pizza! and cuddle. and yeah uh yeah. sorry this is kind of bad.

and things get a lil spicy? i guess? mild nsfw. miles is confused but horny. he's mostly just mad about his fingers. idk. i really don't know where i was going with this. miles likes mozzarella sticks.)

×

You sat on the old, creaky bed next to him, your trembling fingers wrapping his hands in bandages, fingertips grazing over calloused, red skin as you tried to be mindful of the stinging wounds. He gave a few hisses here and there, but kept his hand in your lap.

The small, dull scissors clinked as you cut into the bandage, tearing at the fibrous material with the blades. Finally, you managed to cut through the gauze.

"There," you sighed, adjusting the package on the stump at the base of what used to be his ring finger, gripping a piece of medical tape from the back of your hand and tying it into a neat little bundle, "Too tight?"

Miles shook his head and lifted his hand up to his face to inspect it, turning it around in the soft light of the motel room.

"It's good," he said hoarsely, placing the hand gently onto the surface of the bed, smoothing down the sheets around where he sat. He stared at his hand.

You sighed again, biting your lip as you closed the zipper of the rudimentary first aid kit, tossing it to the stained armchair in the corner of the room. It bounced off the brackish brown pillow and landed on the floor with a thud, on top of a pile of discarded clothes and Miles' jacket. Bright little candy wrappers and balled up tissues against the mahogany brown leather. Your eyes focused on a speckle of blood on the sleeve. You shook your head, adjusting yourself on the bed as you reached for the old bandages, faded and stained as you cupped them in your hands and went to the small bathroom to toss them in the garbage.

Behind your back, you could hear Miles turn on the sad excuse of a TV in the room - the static filling your ears for a fraction of a second before it got signal. You heard canned laughter and some old sitcom jingle that you recognised only distantly.

You opened the trash bin and dropped the dirty bandages inside.

With a crackly rustle of the plastic bag, they fell in the metal bin. You eyed the previous layer that peeked from below the new ones. Miles bled considerably less today, but the wounds were still pretty gnarly. He should really go to the doctor. You stretched your aching arms and yawned, turning off the light in the bathrom and dragging your feet to the bedroom.

Miles sat upright on the bed, leaning on the headboard, his fingers tangled together as he wrung his hands, his eyes fixed on the television. Or somewhere on the cigarette-stained wall behind the television. His eyes were unmoving.

"Babe?" you cleared your throat and got closer to the bed, kicking stray clothes out of your way.

He didn't answer. Only kept on staring at the wall behind the TV.

"Sweetheart, we might have to get you some antibiotics or something. And more gauze. Stuff like that. Would it be okay if I left to go to the pharmacy?" you prodded, sinking your knee onto the bed, crawling towards Miles.

He grunted.

You frowned and sighed, sitting on the bed next to him, turning your eyes to the TV and the gaudy perm of the female lead, your eyes unseeing.

Everything was fucked up. You had survived Murkoff, for now, gotten out of Mount Massive somewhat alive. You tried to push away the distinct memory of pulling Miles onto your shoulder, his blood staining your sweaty back as you sobbed encouraging words, limping towards the abandoned cars of the loading hangar.

Come on, Miles, there you go. Just a few more yards and we'll get the fuck out. There we go. Just - stay with me, okay?

Globs of clotting blood hitting the pavement. Slap. Slap. The ringing in your ears. The muttering of the Walrider.

You'd managed to hotwire an unmarked delivery van and drove away as fast as you could down the mountain, whispering apologies to Miles as he grunted on the passenger seat whenever the tires bumped into a pit on the dirt road.

You drove all the way to Wyoming. For what seemed like days, you drove. Got Miles food from the gas station. Emptying his bank account and buying copious amounts of wound supplies and Tylenol. Tossing away your cellphones near the border between the states.

Everything was fucked up.

You didn't sleep much. And when you did, Miles would wake you up with his screaming. You rubbed your eyes. Everything was so wrong and there was nothing you could really do.

"So," you sighed, "That pharmacy trip."

You tore your eyes from the TV and looked behind your shoulder at Miles. He shrugged.

"Miles -..." you started.

"What?!" he snapped, his head jolting to you before he cleared his throat and added, voice quieter and calmer, "What?"

You stared at him.

He sighed.

"I'm sorry, baby," he muttered, lifting his bandaged hand to his hair, scratching at his temple, "I'm just -..."

"I know," you said softly, scooting closer to him, "Can I touch you?"

Miles nodded softly, opening up his arms as you carefully slinked next to him on the old bed, pressing your body flush against his side as he slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into a clumsy embrace.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"It's fine. Really," you shook your head and lifted your eyes up at him, rubbing his chest in soothing circles through his t-shirt. "Welcome to Wyoming!" on the back. You'd stolen it from a souvenir shop on your way here. It was a size too small on him.

You stroked his thigh, nuzzling into him. For a few minutes, you both sat there in silence. You eyed him carefully as he looked at the TV, his slight scowl melting into a gentle, child-like smile as he held you.

"Should we order pizza?" you asked as soon as the credits rolled and Miles turnes his head to you, as if on instinct.

He moaned.

"Fuck, I would kill for some pizza and a cold beer," he ran his fingers through his hair and raised his eyebrows at you, "Was that like - a real suggestion? Remember not to give your real name."

You giggled, reaching over his thighs for the busted-looking grey rotary phone on the nightstand.

"Sure," you wiggled yourself on his lap, reaching for the handset.

"God, I love you," Miles mumbled and leaned back against the headboard.

You called the reception and asked if they could recommend a pizza place. The old woman at the front desk, her voice dry like chalk, gave you a number, which you called, reclining on Miles' lap as he stroked your back, his eyes on the TV again.

Sometimes his arms wandered to the back of your thighs, your shorts riding up your body as you adjusted yourself on his lap. You waited for the dial tone to end. Then a click, and the crackly voice of some worker reciting a company greeting, stifling her yawn.

"Hi, could I get two pizzas delivered to, uh, my motel room?" you felt Miles bend down behind you, his hand on the small of your back.

"Sure, what would you like?"

After a minute of back-and-forth about the vegetarian options, you felt Miles' lips against the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss to you.

"And the other one?"

You cupped your hand on the receiver of the phone, craning your neck to look back at Miles, who was still rubbing the back of your thighs, his eyes fixed on your butt.

"Miles?"

"Hm?" he raised his eyes to your face.

"What do you want?"

"You."

"On the pizza, honey."

"Oh," Miles' eyes widened, "Just a... uh - double pepperoni, if they have it."

You flashed him a quick grin before relaying the order to the clerk at the other end of the line.

"Will that be all?"

"Wait," Miles grabbed your butt and jiggled it to get your attention. You turned around to face him with a barely-stifled squeal.

"What?" you hissed.

"Can we get mozzarella sticks as well?"

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the phone and he gave your hip a playful shove. You wiggled it on his lap, biting your lip to stifle your giggle.

"Could we also get a large order of mozzarella sticks?"

"Sure," the worker sighed, her voice crackling through the line, "Will you be paying with cash?"

You felt Miles' fingers on the waistband of your shorts, tugging at the stretchy fabric. You snatched his wrist, trying to wrangle his hand away from you.

"Yeah," you turned around, scooting yourself onto your back and plopping down on his lap with the phone tucked between your shoulder and your ear. The aged bedsprings creaked and Miles gave a little grunt as you took both of his hands, trying to fight him off of you as he tried to tickle your stomach.

"Address?"

"What?" you gasped as Miles slid his warm hands underneath the hem of your sweater, the gauze scratchy and rough against your soft skin as his palms traveled upwards. You tried to swat his hands away.

"Address?" she repeated, slightly louder.

"Room nine of the Peaks Motel on the side of the highway, the door is on the - uh - left side of the building," you licked your lips as you snatched Miles' wrist and mouthed "stop."

"Alright, we'll be there in about thirty minutes. Thanks for ordering -..."

"Okay, great," you nodded before she could finish his protocol and slammed the handset down on the nightstand, where it clicked quietly before turning to Miles. He was grinning ear to ear, his hands still underneath your shirt, kneading your flesh, his face slightly flushed.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?" you laughed as you propped yourself up on your butt, slid off his lap and onto the other side of the bed.

He snaked an arm around your waist as you bounced slightly on the worn springs of the mattress.

"I couldn't help myself," he giggled and you turned at him to give his chest a playful shove.

"Next time you order your precious little mozzie sticks and I'll give you a butt massage, you - you brute," you giggled as he gripped onto your waist and wrestled you into his lap with exaggerated huffs and puffs.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," he giggled and you felt his fingers skitter on the sides of your ribs, tickling you. You writhed on his lap, calling out his name.

Miles took you by your waist and you let him prop you up on his lap, sitting you down so that your legs straddled his hips. His hands wandered down to your butt as he scooted you closer to him, his legs spread underneath you as he leaned back into the headboard, grinning at you. You giggled and pushed a stray wisp of hair behind his ear, giving his nose a quick kiss.

He leaned to your ear.

"You're so beautiful," he sighed, his hot breath fanning over your ear and you shuddered.

"No, you," you poked his chest, laughing and pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

His face freezed up, taut. His smile faded away as he looked into your eyes, very intensely. You felt your own smile fade too, your brows furrowing in worry as you watched his eyes. Something behind them wasn't right. The playfulness was gone. Replaced with an edge. Nervousness. Something.

"What is it?" you stroked the back of his neck, frowning at his expression.

He swallowed.

"I'm sorry," Miles said quietly after a while, "This could've been our life. Just - ordering pizza on a Friday night and watching stupid reruns without a care in the world. Grow old together. But I had to fuck it up."

Panic flooded your system. You shifted on his lap, crushing him into a hug as you kissed the top of his head.

"No, Miles, you didn't fuck it up."

"But I did," his voice was muffled against your chest.

"No, listen," you hushed him, "I decided to help you. If we're playing the blame game, it's my fault I'm here with you," you fixed your eyes on his face sternly, pulling away from cradling his head in your arms.

His eyes were wide. Confused. Mostly sad.

"I put both of us through hell," he whispered.

You shook your head, fighting off the smell of copper that wafted into your nose as your brain began to recall the - things.

"No," you repeated, stroking his cheek, "Listen. It happened. But - but what's important is that we... We're together, right?" you bit your lip, running your fingers through his dark brown locks, "And Murkoff will pay."

"Yeah," Miles scoffed, "They'll pay their way out of this."

"You did the right thing."

"I'm not so sure anymore."

"Nonsense," you kissed his forehead. You felt his hands tremble against the small of your back. You shifted on his lap again, pressing a tender kiss to his temple, "Nonsense," you repeated.

"Fuck," Miles grunted.

"What is it?"

Miles shook his head slightly, his fingers resting on top of your ass as you sat on his lap, petting his hair as he buried his face into your chest, grinding his cheek against the fabric of your sweater as he pulled you closer to him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe, Miles," you sighed into his hair, sliding further down on his lap so you could kiss him on the lips. He returned your sweet kiss with ferocity, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip as he moaned into your mouth, his hair moving to the back of your shoulder to press you against him further.

You gasped into his mouth as he bucked up against you, below you. You felt the rough fabric of his jeans against your thighs, felt something hard press against you.

You pulled away from his face, cupping his cheeks.

"You're hurt," you blurted out.

"Of course I am."

"Miles..."

You braced yourself on top of him, moving your hand to down his stomach and lifted his shirt up slightly. Hot, velvet skin. Little coarse hairs. Him breathing heavily against your neck.

"I want my fingers back," he chuckled against your skin, giving your neck a playful nip. There was something stifled behind his laughter, "How can I even - make you cum with two of them missing...?"

"Miles, are you sure -...?"

"I want to feel something good again," he mumbled against your forehead, his hips bucking up into your hand as you rubbed his abdomen with slow, soothing circles.

"I know," you sighed and buried your head into the crook of his neck, "I know."

"Please," Miles choked out and you felt something hot and wet drip onto your scalp from above. You jolted and craned your neck to look up into his dark eyes, bloodshot and glossy. His lips were quivering, his face flushed.

"Miles..." you gasped, lifting your body off of his but his strong arms pulled you back into his chest, crushing you into his vice-like grip as you felt his chest heave and tremble against yours.

"Please," he repeated, "I need to... Get my mind off -... I want you. Please."

You patted his back clumsily and bit your lip to stop the stinging in your eyes as he slid his hands up and down your sides, his grip loosening as you kissed his neck softly, feeling his racing pulse and clammy skin against your lips - the taste of his sweat against your tongue as you muttered little I'm heres to him. For a moment, you felt overwhelming tenderness for the man clinging onto you. It physically hurt. Every one of your muscles and tendons ached and the buzzing in your ears was constant and bothersome, but the softness of his skin and the way he breathed in the scent of your hair was more than enough to take your mind off of the horrors.

"What can I do?" you whispered against his throat, feeling how he swallowed thickly and let out a shaky breath as he licked tears from his lips quivering lips.

"I don't know," he exhaled, giving a small laugh, "I don't know but I really, really want you."

You leaned down to kiss him on the lips. Tasted his tears.

"How much time do we have before the pizza comes?," you murmured.

Miles smiled against your lips.

"About twenty minutes," he sighed as you made quick work of the button of his jeans, "Give or take."

"I prefer to give," you winked, sliding the zipper down. Miles laughed, genuinely. He raised his hand to wipe his eyes.

"That was a good one," he sighed, tangling his fingers in your hair as you slid down his toned stomach, pulling his pants down and freeing him. He felt a flurry of emotions as you took his half-hard cock in your mouth. Mostly relief. And safety. He pushed your head down and you let him.

For his sake.

[whispersinthedawn]

Stuck in Your Head (Part 1)

Persia (and wasn't that strange – an alternate version of Percy had been dragged into his world with her clothes tattered and smoking from the trip) continued her performance. Sighing dreamily, she murmured, “Yes, the good old times. When you could see Venus past the cloud of pollution, when Mount St Helens had yet to erupt, when Long Island was still in one piece, and oh right. When the Sun chariot was still in the sky and not crashed in California setting off wildfires that my seven-year-old son has to go put out.”

By the end, her voice had gone flat, and she looked supremely unimpressed.

“Seven-year-old son?” Percy asked weakly.

He couldn’t even imagine how to begin responding to the rest.

***

It might have been Percy Jackson's second time at Olympus, but just from prior experience, he could firmly cross the place off his list of dream destinations. After all, though it hardly seemed possible, this second try was going even worse than the first.

Last time, it had only been Zeus threatening to destroy him for a crime he hadn't committed. This time? At least two other gods were urging the rest of the Olympians that really, blasting Percy Jackson and Thalia Grace, and for good measure, Bessie the Ophiotarus, for the sole crime of existing, was the best thing after ambrosia.

And it had started well enough too…

Well, if you counted a vote to not disintegrate them a good beginning.

Of course, just when he thought they were about to face the blazing end of a lightning bolt, three old ladies showed up. Then proceeded to rip open a rift in time and space and the fabric of the very Universe itself to pull through two strangers.

Discombobulated as nature willed, the two hapless individuals collapsed on the floor and just imitated fish tossed out of water. Beautiful fish out of water, because Fates forbid the three old ladies drag in anyone without a celestial tinge to their looks.

“If you are pointing out the possibilities of destroying a child of Fate, should not we have a voice?” one of the crones, who had a huge pair of scissors hanging at her waist, asked.

The gods all seemed to take in a collective breath at that.

“What is this,” the strange woman demanded as she shoved her way into a standing position.

As Percy looked closer, he reconsidered his earlier impression. The familiarity hadn't arisen from her no doubt demigod status – but from the fact that she possessed a strange resemblance to his mother. 

The woman backed up into the man collapsed behind her protectively, who took that chance to prop his head on the back of her thigh.

That appeared to worry her even more. “Are you alright?”

The question was clearly aimed at her companion, but it was the Fate with a spindle in her hand who answered. “Phoebus Apollon is a God of Order. He cannot expect to take a trip through chaos without fraying.”

The way she said chaos made it sound like it ought to be capitalised.

“Apollo?” Artemis asked blankly.

Apollo himself looked taken aback as he pointed at the newcomers. “Hey now, I look a lot better than that! And I certainly haven’t done anything to get thrown into Chaos!”

He wasn’t wrong. Though the newcomer was also blonde, that was where all resemblance ended. He looked older and harsher, as if the solar winds had tempered him and left mementos behind.

The maybe god, whom the Fates seemed to be indicating was another Apollo, finally lifted his head to look at the gods. His golden eyes belonged to someone who had barely survived some unnameable horror that his soul was still screaming at.

He said hoarsely, “Well maybe next time, don’t touch a symbol of power you know has driven the rest of Olympus mad.”

“Apollo?” The woman pleaded, ignoring the others. He shook his head and muttered, “I’ll be fine.”

The way his voice quavered did nothing to reassure her.

She turned to peer at the Fates, reluctantly moving onto the next order of business now that her companion didn’t seem about to croak on the marble floors of Olympus. “Are we like, in the past or something?”

She didn’t appear to believe her own words.

“This is not your world, Persia Jackson. But yes, one might say this is a point in time you have already left behind,” the only Fate who had yet to speak answered.

“Jackson?” Percy burst out. “Is she my sister or something?”

Perhaps someone else would have been more hung up on the whole alternate dimension thing, but just last year, Percy had discovered that the Greek Gods were real, he was descended from one of them, and oh yeah, everyone and their aunt wanted to kill him.

When one added to the list the facts that the Gods frequently turned people into plants, the sky was actually a landslide worth of rocks that constantly tried to flatten Earth, and oh yeah, he’d just lost two friends on a quest to recover another? This seemed nothing out of the ordinary.

A sister from his mom’s side was practically noteworthy in comparison.

Persia Jackson looked at him for the first time. Her narrowed eyes then proceeded to rove over Annabeth, Thalia, and Grover.

“More like an alternate version of you,” she mused with a glance at the Fates.

With a start, Percy realised that he knew that look, not as something he’d seen before but rather something he’d struggled with feeling himself. She was simmering inside. It burned her to be nice to the people here.

Zeus rumbled, “So are we to just believe her as she tells us how keeping her alive is the only way to keep Olympus standing?”

Despite her mild-manner, there was a meanness to Persia’s words that surprised Percy. “Oh, I wouldn’t say Olympus is standing exactly. After all, you’re pretty good at destroying everything you touch, Lord Zeus.”

“You dare!” Zeus raised his hand and a lightning bolt appeared in it.

The sight galvanized the Apollo practically hiding behind Persia as he too raised a hand. No symbol of power glowed to life, but a heat haze surrounded the two that must have meant something to the other Gods.

Athena hurriedly interceded, “It might be prudent to listen to what the Moirae have to say before making any decisions, Father. I doubt they would take such a step lightly.”

Zeus subsided though the stormy cast to his features remained.

“Should you not be more respectful Persia Jackson? Are you not glad we brought you here?” one of the Fates, and Percy was starting to wish he knew which one, asked.

He got his wish a second later as Persia spoke. “That would depend on if you pulled us out or merely intercepted our journey, Lady Clotho. After all, I was under the impression you spun the threads of fate out of chaos, not entire people. Or was I wrong?”

“She’s going to die,” Thalia whispered beside him.

Percy couldn’t exactly deny it. Persia seemed to be deliberately provoking the Fates. Though perhaps she assumed that since they were in another world, the old goddesses had no power over her. Somehow, he didn’t think saying that would do her any good when she was being blasted to ashes.

Clotho laughed, though there was something dangerous about it. “So, you do have some sense though not nearly enough to hold your tongue. Yes, Khaos was kind enough to throw you back, but it is we who have fashioned you this form.”

Persia raised her eyebrows and glanced at her ripped jeans and shirt. She looked as if she’d been rained on by burning embers, been forced to jump into mud to put out the fires, and then a giant had helpfully stomped on her for good measure. “Thank you.”

The sad part? The only reason Percy could tell she was being sarcastic was because that’s what he would have felt. The gratitude in her voice could have starred in an Oscar worthy Broadway number. And he wasn’t certain Broadway did Oscars.    

Lachesis, and it must be her since the other one with the shears had to be Atropos, said mock-sweetly, “Yes, this gives you a chance to catch your breath, revisit cherished memories, discover things you might have thought lost, before going back and trying to save it all.”

Persia looked at them suspiciously for a moment before asking, “Revisit cherished memories? Don’t you mean make new ones? I could go to a One Direction concert, get signed autographs from Robert Downey Junior before he gets too famous, win a lottery.”

She seemed to get more excited as she spoke, doing a little twirl as if she were a teenage girl again. When she came to a stop though, she stood a little away from … Phoebus? Yeah, Percy was going to call that guy Phoebus while the original could keep his name.

As everyone except Aphrodite, who nodded at Persia’s priorities, stared at her in disbelief, Artemis took the opportunity to sidle close to Phoebus. She passed him some chunks of ambrosia, which he took with a grateful smile before popped them into his mouth like candy.

Persia, meanwhile, continued her performance. Sighing dreamily, she murmured, “Yes, the good old times. When you could see Venus past the cloud of pollution, when Mount St Helens had yet to erupt, when Long Island was still in one piece, and oh right. When the Sun chariot was still in the sky and not crashed in California setting off wildfires that my seven-year-old son has to go put out.”

By the end, her voice had gone flat, and she looked supremely unimpressed.

“Seven-year-old son?” Percy asked weakly.

He couldn’t even imagine how to begin responding to the rest.

Read it on ao3

[kookiesjoonies]

risk it — jjk | nine.

risk it | nine: one more chance.

a/n: i know this update is kinda late, pls forgive me. xo 

↠ main pairing: tattoo artist!jungkook x salon owner!reader

↠ side ships: namjin, vmin (fwb), hoseok x makeup artist!oc

↠ word count: 2.1k

↠ warnings: angst (duh lol), language 

SERIES SUMMARY:

✧ a drunken text ends with you wrapped up in the arms of your ex-boyfriend. aka the man that you dumped two years prior, after he refused to marry you. suddenly, all of the feelings that you’d seemingly had buried come rushing back up to the surface, and you’re not sure how long you can ignore them.

Jungkook’s hands were gripped onto the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had begun to turn white. His lips were pursed, brows narrowed, and chest heaving with angry breaths as he drove toward your salon. 

He had half a mind to turn around and drive in the opposite direction— to your apartment, where Yoongi was, and pummel him into the ground until he was bruised and bloody from head to toe. 

But he wanted to see you more. He wanted to tell you exactly what he thought about you having sex with his ex best friend, and he wanted to know exactly what the two of you had done together. 

Ever since Taehyung had sent that fucking picture in the group chat, it was all he could think about. He kept imagining Yoongi’s hands traveling up and down your body, Yoongi’s mouth trailing down your stomach, and every time he’d envision Yoongi fucking you into your mattress all he saw was red. 

When he finally pulled into a parking spot outside of the front door, he took a deep breath and ran the palms of his hands down his face in an attempt to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. 

The sign above the door read Kookie Cutters, and he couldn’t help but to shake his head as memories of the two of you together flooded back in. 

He was lying next to you on your shared bed, one hand mindlessly on your breast (as it always seemed to be), while his other hand held the television remote. 

You’d been trying to come up with a name for your business all afternoon, and at first, he was eager to help. But after you shot down all fifty of his suggestions, he’d resorted to just nodding and grunting as he let you ramble on. 

 “I want the name to be something unique, yet personal. Something that nobody else has thought of.” 

He nodded his head in agreement, attention more focused on the soccer game in front of him than on your words. 

You rolled your eyes, plucking a pillow from behind his head and swatting him with it. 

“Hey! I was listening!” He insisted, swatting your attack away with his hands. 

“Uh huh, so what did I say?” You lifted a brow, hands on your hips. 

He smirked at your newfound attitude, always finding it so adorable and endearing. 

“Alright, alright. You caught me.” He admitted, to which you let out an annoyed sounding huff. 

“Kook! This is important!” your eyes lit up then, a theoretical lightbulb switching on above your head, “Wait, that’s it! I’ve got the name!” 

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Jungkook teased, and you playfully punched his shoulder. 

“Kookie Cutters, but… spelled like your name.” You visibly blushed as you told him your suggestion, and he was sure you were the cutest person he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Sounds good to me.”

Jungkook inhaled one final deep breath before wrapping his hand around the door handle and opening it up, stepping inside of the decently sized building. 

He was immediately greeted with the smell of bleach and hairspray, the sound of gossiping hairdressers and clients buzzing through his ears. 

The place had grown impressively since the last time he’d been. You’d obviously hired more help, as well as made several renovations to the store’s overall aesthetic. The walls that used to be the ugliest shade of puke green were now a stylish cool toned grey, and the once tile floors had been replaced with dark rustic hardwood. You’d replaced the cheap light fixtures with spectacular chandeliers, and the waiting area that used to have a sofa and a small tv now housed several chairs and two wall mounted flat screens.

It suited the place, he thought. It suited you. 

“You look lost.” A feminine voice pulled him out of his trance, and he turned to face none other than Lee Mina. 

He offered her a small shrug, his eyes still looking the place over and attempting to catch sight of anything he might’ve missed. 

“Just impressed, is all. Looks a lot different than it did two years ago. Well, I mean, other than the name.” 

“You’re a cocky son of a bitch, you know that?” The brunette crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her toes on the floor below, exuding annoyance from every single one of her pores. 

“I’ve been told that a time or two, yeah.” He confessed, looking past her and scanning the other women in the salon— looking for you. 

“She’s in her office,” Mina informed, “but I highly doubt she wants to see you.” 

“I told her I was on my way here.” 

“Awfully bold of you to come into a place filled to the brim with scissors and bleach, don’t you think?” Mina held a bite to her voice that damn near sent shivers down the man’s spine. 

Luckily, you finally made an appearance and stood beside your hard headed friend. 

“Down, girl,” you placed a hand on her shoulder, nodding toward the waiting area, “you’ve got a client, no time for poisoning my ex boyfriend.” 

“Trust me,” she started, shooting a death glare in Jungkook’s direction as she began to walk away, “I can make time.” 

Jungkook was sure that if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under right now. 

“She doesn’t like me, does she?” 

You scoffed, hands on your hips.

“Can you blame her?” 

No, he couldn’t. 

He sighed, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, “Can we go somewhere and talk?” 

You nodded, “Yeah, we can go into my office. Follow me.” 

He did as he was told, keeping a safe distance between the two of you as he walked behind you. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place, by the way.” 

You mumbled a thank you as you opened up your wooden office door, stepping aside and gesturing him to go in before you. 

Your office was just as impressive as the main space, but Jungkook could tell that you’d taken the time to make this room more personal. Pictures of you and your friends hung on the wall behind where your glass desk was sat, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t upset him to see that there weren’t any pictures of you two. Not that he’d expected there to be. 

Apparently, you could see the way that his face seemed to fall at that realization, and you were quickly bumping his hip to turn his attention to the picture frame beside your laptop. 

It was a photo of you and Jungkook, around seventeen years old, he guessed. His hair was much shorter, and his skin had a lot less ink— as in, had no ink. Yours was the same way, bare and tattooless. Jungkook was kissing your cheek in the photo, and you were grinning from ear to ear with your metal braces on full display. 

He couldn’t help but to reach out and touch it, allowing his fingers to ghost over the picture as he reminisced about the past. You’d become his everything when the two of you were just sixteen, the typical high school sweethearts cliché. 

He shared his first kiss with you, and you shared yours with him. It was so bad— teeth clacking and tongues unsure of what to do. But eventually, the two of you figured it out. Together. 

Your first time having sex was even worse, because neither of you even managed to cum. Maybe you would’ve, if Jungkook’s mom hadn’t walked in in the middle of it and proceeded to give you the world’s longest speech about how she was too young for grandchildren. 

“Did you really think I’d have pictures of everyone else, but leave you out?” You asked, taking a step forward and leaning your back against the desk beside him. 

“Guess it shouldn’t shock me,” he shrugged, straightening his posture as he sat on the edge of the desk and allowed one leg to dangle down, “seeing as how I still have a picture of you on my station at the shop.” 

“You know,” he laughed, shaking his head, “I was so mad before I came here. Really, my blood was boiling. But as soon as I laid eyes on you—“ 

“Don’t,” you cut him off with a wave of your hand, “just say what you came here to say, Jungkook. 

You weren’t looking at him, your eyes were staring straight forward at the frames hanging on the wall in front of you. He could see the way they were glossed over, tears threatening to spill out at any moment. 

He’d made you cry so many times before, and every single time he did he felt like he was dying— like all of the air was being slowly sucked from his lungs. 

“Bug, don’t cry,” he stood in front of you instantly, his hands instinctively finding their way onto the sides of your face, “I just wanted to apologize, to tell you that I’m sorry for hurting you.” 

You closed your eyes, and to his surprise, leaned into his touch. He swiped his thumb across your cheekbone as a single tear fell down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You keep saying that,” you choked out, fully allowing the sobs to take over your body now, “but you don’t ever make any effort to stop doing it!” 

Your body began to shake, and you could no longer hold yourself up. The weight of everything that had happened recently, and in the past, was clearly getting to you. You fell against Jungkook’s chest as you continued to choke out pitiful sobs, and he used his strong arms to hold your body up to keep you from slipping to the ground. 

“I c-can’t do this anymore, Kook! I’m so in love with you that I feel it in every inch of my body, but all you seem to want to do is h-hurt me,” you continued to ramble, using the back of your hand to wipe at your nose, “and I know you don’t mean to sometimes. But sometimes y-you do! And I just— I miss you, I miss who you used to be. I miss the guy that loved me and treated me right when we were teenagers! I know he’s in there somewhere, so either dig deep and f-find him or stay the f-fuck out of my life because I—“ 

The sound of Jungkook’s own sobbing cut you off. He’d begun stroking your hair with his hand as he let you get everything out, but it wrecked him to know he was making you feel this way. 

“I’ll try and be better, I swear to God I will. You’re all I’ve ever fucking wanted, and I am so sorry for all the hurt and pain I’ve caused you. You deserve so much better than me,” he lifted your chin with his fingers so that his sad eyes could meet your own, “but if you’ll give me one more chance… I swear I’ll be the man that you need me to be.” 

He could tell that the gears of your mind were working in overdrive, weighing out the pros and cons of putting your trust in him again. He hoped with every fiber of his being that you would, because come hell or high water, he was going to prove to you that he was worth your love again. 

You lifted your hands up to meet his face, wiping his tears from his cheeks and tucking his long strands of hair behind his ears. 

“Okay. One more chance.” 

The sigh of relief that Jungkook breathed out could no doubt be heard from the other side of the world. He nodded once, taking in the fact that you’d actually agreed to have him in your life full time again, even on a trial basis. 

His forehead leaned against your own as he pulled you tighter against him, giving your body with the tightest embrace— scared that at any moment, you’d change your mind and run in the opposite direction. 

“I promise you won’t regret this, bug. I mean it, I—“ 

Jungkook was cut off by Mina swinging open the door to your office and announcing your presence with her seemingly always excited, high pitched voice. 

“Oh, my God! I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to interrupt, it’s just— uhm,” she was stammering awkwardly, and speaking way too quickly, “Yn, you uhm… have a client. She’s waiting for you.” 

You gave her a quick nod, letting her know that you’d be out in just a minute as you wiped at the mascara running under your eyes. 

“Call me later?” you asked, finally breaking away from your ex lover’s hold, “We have a lot more to talk about.” 

“Sure thing.” 

As you turned to exit the room, you stood up on the tips of your toes and placed a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder before allowing your lips to peck a kiss to his cheek. 

“Get home safe, Kook.” 

⇠ masterlist ⇢

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if you aren’t tagged, it’s because tumblr won’t let me tag certain people for some reason. so sorry! :(

[regulusfate]

Serenade

(requested : wolfstar)

- lyrics , queen

“Okay okay,” James grinned, his body stretched out within the armchair, legs propped up on the small wooden table threatening to knock ink across their homework.

“What about teaching?”

“No, absolutely fucking not.”

Remus snorted around a mouthful of butter beer, his breath misting up the edge of the glass and a laugh bubbled in the back of James’s throat. Peter gave a sharp cry as his foot caught on the abandoned ink pot and trembled in place for a moment.

“James !” He groaned, blonde hair tied back in a small messy bun, not quite long enough and the spotlight for many eyes, all itching to go for the scissors.

“Peter !” Came the teasing response, voice mimicking his tone with rose an octave higher and bared his teeth cheekily, dancing his feet in the air to set the blonde on edge.

Peter scowled with no heat and slapped his feet away, serving only to crumple pages of parchment he was scrawling on and his misery echoed in a moan. James looked sheepish for a moment, as he dropped his feet from the table and reached over, tugging a few sheets from the floor.

“Sorry Pete,“ he smiled again, this time it was softer, something a touch more sympathetic and a dash contrite as his friend slumped backwards in the opposing chair. “Give it here, I’ll take a look.”

The one known as wormtail sighed and gave some sort of motion with his hand, permission for James to start through the mess of work that had overcome the table by the fire.

“So come on lupin,” he continued after a moment, leaning back with a pile of sheets in his hands and ink threatening to drip down his wrist, offering a sparkling glance as his head lolled in the werewolf’s direction. “You don’t think you’d make a great professor?”

Remus took another drink, letting the warm spread from his lips to his toes and shifted against the cushions that pillowed against his aching back and turned his eyes to the ceiling as if this were most bothersome. But when he spoke his lips twitched with amusement.

“Merlin no, it’s hard enough keeping the little buggers in check as Prefect. I’d boil my head if I thought I had to teach them too.”

Peter gave some sort of noise between a cough and a snicker, and his face smoothed a little from the lines of stress. Remus winked his way, and some of the tension drifted from his shoulders.

“I don’t think I’d mind,” James commented with a shrug, his eyes narrowed on the lines of parchment, and Remus often wondered how he deciphered Peter’s handwriting so quickly. “You’d be surprised, it’s actually quite enjoyable.”

“Yeah this coming from the head boy , who does study groups for a living.” He drawled back, lifting a hand to rake it through his hair and tipped the glass to his lips to drain the rest.

“How much do they pay you exactly?”

He smirked, as predicted James sat forwards so fast he really did knock over the ink bottle and it spilled across the carpet towards the fire. A yelp from Peter as it splashed on his shoes and he leapt up to fix the damage with a deep indignant scowl.

“I would never!” He exclaimed, slightly outraged, as he banished the ink from the floor with an angry wave of his arm. Peter winced as his papers got dangerously close to the fire, and shot Remus a dark look.

The werewolf just grinned again.

“Shut up Moony,” he grumbled, slumping back down into the chair, casting a suspicious eye towards the table as if it were the ink bottles fault.

“Touchy touchy.”

Peter muttered something about his shoes, to which they both ignored.

“You’ve spent too much alone time with Sirius.”

If he’d have been drinking he would’ve choked, as it was his breath caught on his tongue. Blue eyes watched them suspiciously, still scowling in Remus general direction [ ‘..those shoes were tailored ..’ ]

“We share the same dorm,” he quipped dryly and rose an eyebrow “if anything he learnt it from me.”

James laughed, it reverberated in his chest like the fire itself crackling in the hearth, a new warmth filled Remus.

“Yeah yeah but who taught him-“

“That was an accident!”

“-in third year?”

They locked eyes, James grinning once more, Remus scowling, arms crossed over his chest. Peter sighed, finally dropping his accusing stare under the mounting realisation he was unlikely to get anything done and leaned over to tug the parchment from James’s hand.

It ripped and he let out a wounded cry, making several people jump somewhere out of their vision, and James snapped his eyes from their unofficial staring competition with sudden horror.

“Shit!”

As James half lunged himself across the small space, tripping over his own untied shoelaces toward Peter, babbling an incessant stream of apologies and a gleam arose in his eyes, determined to make it right , almost full mother hen™, he sat back in search for their topic of argument.

Remus often found it amusing how people assumed they were always together, the four marauders never leaving the others side, but he could count father than both his hands and toes the amount of times they were down to three or two at a time. And Remus quite enjoyed time he could spend alone, it gave him a chance to breathe before they came battling in with some new prank or source of outrage.

Amber eyes scanned the room contently, three trips through the deep sea of red before he found his boyfriend leaning up by the vinyl towards the shadows of the corner.

For a moment, he could just watch him. The way his hands moved, animated with the charm of his smile and the soft bounce of his curls, it was something passionate then, he was trying to explain to the fifth year.

A soft exhale and Remus still wondered how he managed to get to lucky, or maybe lucky as the wrong word .. how he managed to feel so alive with one person, his blood thumping with his heart , how even to the day his lips were still the softest he had tasted, and never ceased a spark in his gut.

And then, as it often did in these moments, there followed a wave of suspicion, and then mounting dread as the fifth year turned towards the vinyl and Sirius glanced his way , something more mischievous growing on his face.

His breath caught once more, as music began to drift across the room and he heard “can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things ..” unable to stop a long suffering groan past his lips and in the corner of his eyes James’s head snapped up.

“Moony ?? what’s wrong ?”

Sirius was walking towards him, that’s what was wrong. He could almost see his fingers flex, as if to hold a microphone and his lips mouthing the words with a slight jaunt in his step.

“Remus are you-?” He cut James off with a dismissive wave, and the potter heir sat back with a pout, and a glare forming in his eye until they landed on Sirius, and his lips twitched comically. Still he seemed half ready to intercept, and a small part of Remus really hoped he would, not for the first time after all.

For a moment he considered playing up to the aching of his back, but the twinge of his muscles had not bothered him in a long time, and he’d rather not have three overbearing beasts wrestling him into bed.

Sirius takes the bottle from his hand. Remus doesn’t need to look to see all eyes are pointed their way and his heart skips a beat, but Sirius’s hands are soft, a little rough and neither skin in smooth to scars as the low tone of his voice begins to override the song.

“Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy,”

He grinned, and Remus felt his legs move upwards following the guiding hands despite his reservations, forehead pressed to his, he simply followed the music that was his lover.

“What're you doin' tonight, hey, boy?”

A shaking of his head, torn between amusement and exasperation, and Sirius span him with a laugh.

“Set my alarm, turn on my charm,” then he was twirling back into waiting arms, and a smile stretching on to his own face, an estranged noise in his throat that ripples out in his own gentle laugh, and Sirius smirks but it’s warm, caressing his heart. And his voice lowers a little, their lips grazing, Remus can feel his breath ghosting across his skin.

“That's because I'm a good old-fashioned loverboy.”

He couldn’t help but snicker in disagreement, almost colliding heads before he dropped his face into his shoulder, the cotton soft on his skin, their bodies drifting slowly in time with the music.

[ “Ah Crap Pete I swear I didn’t mean to rip that further-!” ]

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “An Enchanted Gift” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Anathema gives Aziraphale and Crowley a special gift - a homemade bottle of a holiday drink with some very peculiar side effects. (2299 words)

Notes: Written for the wonderful @theantichristmaszine  :) Warning for sexual content.

Read on AO3.

Crowley’s flat is positively a picture, fit for printing on a Christmas card.

Fire roaring on the hearth.

Garland and tinsel draped over anything that doesn’t move.

Fairy lights brightening the dark corners, wound around the rubber tree and the Chinese Evergreen, weeding through the leaves of the dieffenbachia.

A host of red velvet, gold taffeta, and white satin ribbon hanging from the ceiling till no white marble can be seen.

And at the center of it all, a tree - an honest-to-Satan floor-to-ceiling pine that Crowley had tromped into the forest and tore out of the ground himself with his own two hands. An ax would have been simpler. Heck, he could have snapped the thing back to his flat, trimmed and mounted, ready for decorating. But his method seemed so much more festive considering he’d been bellowing holiday carols the entire time.

He let angel take the lead decorating. Aziraphale had a merry time covering the thing in frosted globes, glass candy canes (since the real ones didn’t last long enough to hang), gingerbread men (only slightly nibbled), reindeer, clove oranges, crocheted white-lace snowflakes, and other ornaments of the like, purchased from artisans all around London.  

Crowley had gone so far as to include a manger scene for the benefit of his angel-in-residence. However, instead of hanging the Archangel Gabriel using the provided hook, he hung him over the birthplace of the Lord by a noose. Aziraphale giggled when he saw it but recommended fixing it - to ward off bad karma or something along those lines. Not wanting to sully his spirits listening to a lecture about tempting fate (which is all Crowley does), Crowley remedied it.

He replaced Gabriel with a vintage Troll doll key chain Pepper accidentally forgot at Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“There! Top notch replacement, if I do say so meself! Looks just like ‘im!” Crowley declared, gesturing to the absurd trinket with its vibrant purple hair.

“And which part, might I ask, looks just like him?” Aziraphale had asked.

“The head! It’s huge!”

Demons aren’t much for celebrating. But this year, with everything Crowley had to be grateful for, he honestly couldn’t help himself. At its root, Christmas is about love.

Family.

Birth.

A chance to shed the skin of past sins and start anew.

This year, Crowley couldn’t see letting Christmas pass unacknowledged.

“You know, I may not be a connoisseur of holiday shindigs,” Crowley says, leaning back on the floor and gazing up at the spectacle that is their cheerfully burdened tree, “but I would say tonight has come pretty close to perfect. Wouldn’t you?” He rolls onto his hip, beaming at Aziraphale seated not too far from him, a loopy grin nudging his mouth up at the corners.

“Indeed.” Aziraphale lifts his bottle of Burgundy, prepared to propose a toast. It comes up off the floor far too quickly, an indicator the thing has been drained dry.

“Looks like we finished that one.” Crowley looks left and right in search of another, but doesn’t see one. “Augh! Don’t tell me we went through them all! I’m sure I had another three at least!”

“Don’t fret, my dear,” Aziraphale says. “I may have just the thing.” He crawls over to the tree on hands and knees and rummages underneath. A second later he crawls back out, accompanied by a rustic-looking green glass bottle and a triumphant little, ‘A-ha!’ “This comes courtesy of dear, sweet Anathema.” He presents the bottle to his demon for approval. “She said she made it with love.”

“Really?” Crowley snorts while Aziraphale uncorks the bottle. “And what ingredient is that then? Wolfsbane? Mandrake root?”

“Honey, I think.” Aziraphale gives the mouth of the bottle a sniff. “Maybe blackberries?”

“The important question is - is it alcohol?”

Aziraphale brings the bottle to his lips and knocks back a gulp, coughing at the finish. “That it is.”

“Give it here then. I’d like to partake of some love, too.” Crowley indulges, tilting his head back and taking a huge swig. He smacks his tongue, then licks his lips, shivering when a wave of heat enters his bloodstream and works its way down his spine. “Wow. That’s tasty.”

“Isn’t it? If being a witch doesn’t work out for her, she should definitely take up a career distilling.”

“Love, you say?” Crowley peers into the bottle, pondering the ingredients as the drink settles onto his taste buds. “Do you think that’s something she orders by the pound, or gathers under the full moon?”

“To be honest, I have no idea---oof!” Aziraphale sways, planting a hand flat on the floor and locking his elbow to keep from toppling over.

“You alright, angel?” Crowley snickers. “Having a bit of trouble holding your drink?” His forehead wrinkles with concern when Aziraphale doesn’t recover right away. “That’s not normally like you---”

Crowley’s teasing cuts off when Aziraphale’s mouth crashes into his - hot, demanding, tasting of mulling spices, apples, sour plum, and brandy. It takes Crowley a moment to realize Aziraphale is kissing him.

Then another for him to start kissing back.

This isn’t just any kiss. It’s the kiss he’s been longing for. The kiss he’d feel on his lips every time Aziraphale looked his way and smiled. It’s the kiss he thought about the century he slept. And even though there have been many kisses between them, Crowley ranks this as the first.

Because it’s the kiss of dreams.

Aziraphale inhales sharply and backs away. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, my dear! I don’t know what came over me!”

Crowley looks him over curiously, waiting for an explanation, but Aziraphale doesn’t seem to have one. Aziraphale loves kissing, but he doesn’t go about it this way - doesn’t rush in, doesn’t take what he hasn’t asked for. “Turn about’s fair play, I’d wager.”

“What do you …?”

Without another word, Crowley sneaks a hand behind Aziraphale’s head and kisses him back.

Another kiss follows. Then another. With each one, the room becomes inhospitable - too warm, too stuffy, too difficult to stay in wearing all their blasted clothes! Aziraphale tries to relieve the pressure at his neck, but he can’t seem to manage his buttons, so Crowley helps him undo those. Likewise Crowley’s zipper becomes uncooperative, so Aziraphale tasks himself with unzipping it. Article by article they tear through until the two become too frustrated to care about the inevitable paperwork and snap off the rest.

Crowley kneels behind his angel, completely naked, kissing every spot he can get his lips on. And God, how it tingles! No. How it burns - each touch of his lips to Aziraphale’s flesh sending surges of razor sharp and magma hot straight from Crowley’s mouth to his groin.

And he wants more.

He wants it everywhere.

He wants it scalding his throat, searing his lungs, consuming him from the inside out. Let it dissolve him into ashes that blow away on the wind, let him die in an orgasm of violence and fire and angelic light.

As long as it comes with Aziraphale.

What a way to go.

“I have to have you, angel,” he moans. “Now. Right now.”

“Are you … are you sure? We’ve always said that we wouldn’t allow alcohol to make us amorous.”

“I don’t feel drunk. Do you?”

Aziraphale focuses inward, taking stock of his corporation. “No,” he says, surprised considering the bottles of wine they’d polished off before they started in on Anathema’s gift. “I don’t. Not at all.” Aziraphale locates an empty bottle and concentrates, tries to push the alcohol of the night from his system, but nothing appears. Not a single drop. “Far from it, it would seem.”

“That’s right. We’re not drunk. We’re completely in our right minds.”

“I wouldn’t say …”

“I want this, angel!” Crowley pleads with a sense of urgency. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. More than ever,” Aziraphale admits.

“What do you want me to do?” Crowley whispers, voice husky with a lust he has inspired in others but has never once felt himself. “Tell me.”

“Make love to me?”

“How?”

Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, grinning at his demon chomping at the bit. “You seem to be in the perfect position. I suggest you start there.”

Aziraphale expects Crowley to mock his snark, but he doesn’t, diving immediately back into the task of kissing across Aziraphale’s shoulders, lingering over the joint where his wings would connect if he let them out. Crowley swirls over it with his tongue, painting overlapping circles, and Aziraphale sees stars. They’ve made love in this position before, and Crowley has kissed every inch of his back, but he’s never spent so much time on this particular area.

The decadence of this sensation should be criminal.

Aziraphale feels Crowley’s hands on his body everywhere at once - massaging his muscles, fondling his cock, scissoring him open. Could Crowley be using magic to pleasure him? That’s not something they’ve ever done before due to the implications of Hell finding out. But seeing as Hell is no longer a concern, that puts every card at their disposal.

And thank God because this they need to do again!

“Aziraphale,” Crowley utters as he enters him, his angel’s name like sugar in his bitter mouth, and fuck!

There it is.

When he enters him completely.

The fire.

Inside his angel.

And Crowley has become its fuel.

“Oh, Crowley …” Aziraphale shifts his weight onto his palms and leans forward, raising his rear in the air. “Oh, yes. Just like that, my dear …”

“Like this, angel?” Crowley pulls back, then thrusts hard - harder than he would normally, sending Aziraphale swiftly to the verge. With Aziraphale’s grunts of ecstasy mirroring the rhythm of Crowley’s hips, Crowley knows that regardless of anything, this he cannot stop.

It would be unforgivable.

“Yes!” Aziraphale whimpers, bracing against the marble floor with knuckles white. “Yes! Crowley, yes!”

“Yes …” Crowley echoes beneath his breath, a lightness settling inside his mind, siphoning his ability to think. He’s done too much thinking already. Now is not the time for thinking. Now is the time for serving. The time for feeling. And what he feels is soft beneath his hands, tight around his cock, a quest for satisfaction, for completion, wrapped in a braided rope of love, love, and more love. So much love it fills his flat from corner to ceiling, leaves its mark on the walls and on the doors.

And on the marble beneath them when Aziraphale, spiraling out of control, comes unannounced on Crowley’s living room floor.

“Oh,” he squeaks with embarrassment though he knows Crowley would say he shouldn’t be. “I apologize, my love, but I seem to have sullied your floor.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Crowley says, snapping his fingers and cleaning the mess as he shudders through his own orgasm, which had snuck up inside him and granted him release less like an accomplishment and more like a reward for what he had done for his angel.

“Well,” Aziraphale manages even though he’s breathless, which isn’t a bother for him. “That was … interesting.”

“Just interesting?”

Aziraphale blushes. “More than interesting. But I would hate to think that was all because of the drink.”

“I wouldn’t say it was. I think the brew just sort of lowered out inhibitions. Enhanced the experience.”

“Do you think that was meant to happen? I find it difficult to believe that Anathema of all people gave us some sort of love potion as a Christmas present.”

“Not sure. Could be a side-effect of being witch made. Probably affects us more because we’re occult.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue Crowley’s word usage. “Or … what if it’s something worse?”

“Worse?” Crowley arches an eyebrow. “What worse?”

“What if it did what it was meant to, but it was supposed to be a present for her young gentleman?”

“Ugh! Aziraphale! Don’t!” Crowley groans, wrapping his arms around his angel and holding him tight. “You’re going to put me off!”

“Sorry,” Aziraphale chuckles, hugging Crowley’s arms about his waist. Locked in the cozy cocoon of Crowley’s embrace, a thought pricks Aziraphale’s brain.

There is a secret third possibility.

A week or two ago, Aziraphale went to Tracy Shadwell’s place for tea and rum cake. While he was there, he’d confided in both Tracy and Anathema that as much as he loved his sex life with his husband, physical intimacy had become somewhat of a chore. Not because he didn’t love it, which he did, but because Crowley seemed stuck on every love making session between them being more romantic than the last. First came the champagne, then the candlelight (so much candlelight …), massages with complicated names, and, as of late, dramatic musical choices. It’s nice, the care Crowley puts into being his lover, but it also puts a tremendous amount of pressure on Aziraphale to keep up appearances.

Makes the whole ordeal feel like a performance.

Some nights, by the time they get to the good stuff, Aziraphale is ready to hit the hay. Seeing as he despises sleep, that’s awfully telling.

Aziraphale has come to the conclusion that, often times, he’s just … how did the youths say it … down to fuck.

So this drink may have done exactly what it was meant to, and he and Crowley may have rightfully been its intended targets.

But Aziraphale isn’t about to tell Crowley that.

“What should we do now? Should we lock it away or …?”

“Seems to me there’s only one thing we can do …” Crowley looks the bottle over, gauging the level of the liquid still inside. He grins, the firelight flickering in his eyes, making him look more wicked than Aziraphale has seen him in decades.

And he takes a hefty swallow.

[woodstockbtswriter]

Voyagers

Genre: Fluff/Headcanon

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (Female)

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to join BTS on a Bon Voyage adventure leads to once-in-a-lifetime love.

Author’s Note: Okay, I just have to say, watching the boys try to filet a fish and not being able to tell them that they were using the wrong knife was painful for me. 😄 Anyway, hope you enjoy this latest installment! 💕

GIF Credit: MONOSUGA

Part Sixteen

Back to Civilization

At the conclusion of your fishing trip, you returned to your campsite to meet up with the rest of the boys, pack everything up, and head to Queenstown

You watched the sun fall lower and lower in the sky from the passenger’s seat as Yoongi drove into the city

By the time you reached your accommodation, the night was completely black

For the last two nights of your trip, you’d be staying in a rental, and though it was hard to see in the dark, you could tell just from the outside that the large, modern house was luxurious

As soon as Yoongi parked the SUV and Jungkook parked the camper, everyone grabbed their suitcases and headed inside

The second you walked in the door, you and the boys were amazed, and the interior designer in you geeked out just a little bit

The house was open-concept, with the living room, kitchen, and dining room all in one large space, and the whole back wall was floor-to-ceiling windows

The design was clean and contemporary, featuring all neutral colors and mixed materials like glass and stone

It was a far cry from the cabins, tents, and camper you’d stayed in the last few nights

And as several of you admired the incredible view of the twinkling city skyline, you agreed it was nice to be back in civilization

Collapsing onto the sofas after bringing in all the luggage, food, and supplies, the boys began discussing how to decide rooms

There were five bedrooms to choose from: three would have to be shared and two would be private

Jin suggested you play the bottle cap game, and Hoseok cleared off the coffee table in preparation

After a quick round of rock-paper-scissors, it was determined that Yoongi would go first, and he casually flicked the plastic bottle cap a little over halfway across the table

Surprisingly, his mediocre shot was enough to win, as everyone else - including you - either overshot or came up short

Having won first pick of the bedrooms, Yoongi chose the private room with the twin-size bed

Which allowed you, as the runner-up, to choose your own room with a full-size bed

Then the rest of the boys scattered, checking out the remaining bedrooms and picking their spots

Jin and Hoseok claimed the room with the king-size bed

Namjoon and Jungkook chose to share the room with the queen-size bed

And Jimin and Taehyung naturally wanted to room together, so they decided on the room with the other full-size bed

Once you were situated in your rooms, everyone began taking turns washing up, and you enjoyed a long, hot shower

Dinner Prep

When you were dried off and dressed in comfy clothes, you made your way to the kitchen

You found a freshly-bathed Yoongi there at the counter, attempting to cut up the salmon you’d caught that afternoon

He appeared to be struggling, so you asked if you could help, but he said the only thing he needed help with was peeling garlic

Jin, Jimin, and Jungkook were already seated around the kitchen table with a half-peeled mound of garlic bulbs between them, so you joined them

Though you had really hoped Yoongi wanted you by his side

You watched him from the table as he continued to wrestle with the fish until he finally admitted defeat

You were about to get up to assist him, but Jin insisted that Yoongi let him try

Jin had some trouble cutting up the fish too, but soon figured it out well enough to prepare passable sashimi

When you and the other garlic peelers finished your task, you moved to the counter to watch Yoongi and Jin work, standing ready if either of them needed your help

Eventually, after putting a pot of water on the stove to boil, Yoongi asked - without looking at you - if you could toast some bread, and you happily obliged

Dinner and Dessert

When the salmon, garlic shrimp, and pasta were ready, everyone took their place at the dining table, and you ended up seated between Hoseok and Taehyung

As you and the boys began filling your plates, Hoseok commented that you all had only one more day of the show left, and the unwelcome reminder made your stomach clench

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at Yoongi, hating the thought of your time together coming to an end

Especially after the way he’d been so distant all day

To your surprise, Yoongi was looking directly at you, but quickly turned his gaze toward his lap when he noticed your gaze on him

Then Hoseok lifted his drink, toasting to enjoying the experience until the last moment, and you joined the others in clinking your glasses and bottles together

It was a fitting toast, and as you started on your dinner, you hoped you would be able to enjoy every last moment of this experience

While you ate, the boys began discussing dinner for the next night, saying they’d like to have Korean food

But it suddenly dawned on you that if it was the final night, it would be your last opportunity to make your traditional food for them

So you spoke up, and offered to cook them all dinner the next night

The boys liked the idea, agreeing unanimously and enthusiastically, and you started planning your menu in your mind

After dinner, Jungkook brought out a box of mint chocolate chip ice cream cones and handed them out

Jin lamented that he hated mint chocolate, and Namjoon agreed that it was like mouthwash

Unwrapping his cone, Yoongi said food was food and he wasn’t very picky

You agreed as far as ice cream goes, enjoying your own cone and saying you’d yet to find a flavor you didn’t like

BTS UNO

When you finished your dessert, Namjoon, Taehyung, and Hoseok took charge of cleaning up dinner

While you waited for them to finish, the rest of your group relaxed in the living room, and Jin started shuffling a deck of UNO cards

It was getting late, and as soon as the production crew set up a ring of GoPro cameras in the middle of the coffee table, they wrapped filming and said goodnight

As they left the house and headed for their own accommodations, you and the boys encircled the table and Jin dealt everyone cards

It wouldn’t be a game with BTS if there wasn’t a penalty, so it was agreed before play started that the loser would have to wake everyone else up in the morning

Though you were all tired after a long day, the game was lively, with everyone singing and dancing and laughing as they played

Taehyung wasn’t familiar with the rules, but you grew up playing UNO with your family, so you and Jimin coached him each time it was his turn

But a heated debate occurred when the boys tried to make Yoongi draw ten cards

You immediately came to his defense, telling them they couldn’t stack +2 and +4 cards

Jimin and Jungkook insisted that they could, and you went back and forth until you pulled up the official rules on your phone

They weren’t happy about it, and grumbled as they drew their cards, but you were right

And though Yoongi kept his focus on his hand, a smirk was curling his lips

“At least now I know who’s on my side.” He said, playing his card onto the center pile, and you couldn’t hold back a self-satisfied grin

Play continued for a while, the game lasting longer with so many players, until Jin was finally the first person to go out

The remaining players kept playing, going out one-by-one, until it was down to Yoongi, Jimin, and Taehyung

With only three players, the game went much faster, and Yoongi and Jimin both went out one after the other, leaving Taehyung in last place

Unsurprised, he humbly accepted his defeat and his wake-up penalty, and everyone decided to call it a night

Another Late Night

As the boys dispersed, you hung back, taking your time heading to your room, but it was quickly apparent that Yoongi did not have the same idea

You’d been waiting all night, anxious to finally get an opportunity to talk to him without the cameras

He’d been giving you mixed signals all day, and you were dying to know exactly what he was thinking and where you stood

But as Yoongi disappeared into his bedroom, closing his door behind him, your heart dropped to the floor

Taking a deep breath then exhaling shakily, you entered your own room, trying your best to stay calm

He was just tired, you told yourself

You’d had a long day, and he probably just wanted to go to sleep

That’s all

There’s no reason to freak out

It’s late anyway, and everyone should go to sleep

Reflexively, you pulled your phone from your pocket to check the time and convince yourself of the lateness of the hour

But before you even saw the clock, your eyes were instantly drawn to the notification banner waiting on your screen

You had one unread message from Min Yoongi

You couldn’t tap it open and read it fast enough

Not sure you read it right, you read it again

And again

And again, reading it one word at a time

You then racked your brain, deciding how to answer, before finally sending a casual response

Shoving your phone back in your pocket, you hurried into your bathroom and brushed your teeth as fast as you could, your heart now racing in anticipation instead of sinking in disappointment

As soon as you’d rinsed your mouth out and checked your face in the mirror, you found the small camera mounted in the corner of your bedroom

You gave the lens a bright smile and a cheerful goodnight, then firmly pushed the power button, ensuring the recording light was off

Crossing the room, you smoothed down your clothes and lowered yourself onto the edge of your bed

And your leg began bouncing as you sat

All you could do now…

...was wait

Previous - Next

Taglist: @bucky-thorin-winchester @yvemoon @serpentiinequeen @neilpoetssociety @narcissism-iskey

[slash-em-up]

A Second Chance: A Logger Fic

Ben gets a second chance to make a life for himself.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

1951

Ben grimaced at his shabby reflection in the store window.

Despite his best efforts to clean himself up in the river earlier today he still looked more like a bear than a man.

His beard was patchy and uneven; having been cut with a knife and the reflection of his small hand-mirror instead of a proper razor and scissors. He probably should have done away with it altogether; but the recollection of the men in the logging camps calling him ‘baby-face’ and ‘sweet’ stayed his hand. His brown hair was overgrown and hung in shaggy curtains over his ears; and the single spare outfit he was currently wearing looked like it had spent the day being beaten against a rock and sun-dried.

Probably because it had.

But after… three, maybe four weeks in the woods it was the closest to sane he could make himself look.

Only slightly rabid… Still, more likely to be arrested for loitering than not.

He pulled his coat tighter and shivered against the chill night air. His legs and back ached from the weeks of near constant travel. His best guess was that he was about a hundred miles from the site of his massacre, and he hoped that was far enough. The heavy pack over his shoulder was readjusted, and the tall man continued down the street.

The small Washington town was one he vaguely remembered having traveled through on his way to Seattle once or twice. Not much more than a main road and a handful of cookie-cutter suburban homes. A clinging relic of the past centuries mining operations and the last decades of logging.

Ben thought it was charming, in the way that most people unfamiliar with small-town living often do.

A vending machine filled with the local newspaper caught Ben’s eye, and he made his way over - quickly scanning the front page for anything pertinent to his search for information.

Nothing. No article or mention of anything untoward in the state besides the usual problems that came hand-in-hand with society.

This allowed the man a sliver of hope; but reason told him that nearly a month past in a small town miles and miles away might not be the best temperature check for his situation.

The sound of a heavy door opening brought Ben back to the present, and he involuntarily tensed as a pair of drunk-looking men stumbled out of a building across the street then shambled down the sidewalk.

Now there was a thought.

Swiveling his head from side-to-side, Ben stepped into the street and crossed. He glanced at the neon-sign covered window displaying a multitude of alcoholic beverage names as he approached the building the men had just exited.

The large wooden bar doors had an enjoyable weight to them, Ben thought as he stepped into the dark interior of the building… and upon inspection, he found that was about the nicest thing he could say about the place. A man sitting beside the door - assumedly the bouncer, although the three other patrons in the open room seemed far too drunk to offer any resistance if they were to be escorted out - gave Ben a once-over as he moved further into the bar before flicking his magazine back open and continuing to peruse the pages.

The walls were a mess of more neon interspersed sporadically with posters of scantily clad women drinking one of the advertised beverages. A dart board near the back of the room hung sadly askew against a ply-board wall.

Ben grimaced at the feel of his boots sticking to the cheap carpet covering the floor.

An old rifle sat entwined in the antlers of a mounted deer’s head over the back wall behind the bar; and Ben raised a brow at what looked like a pipe stuffed in the poor animals’ mouth.

An older man in a stain-covered apron approached Ben as he took a seat at the bar, jacket catching on the rough wood covering the top.

He didn’t seem the least bit concerned at Ben’s raggedy appearance, and silently the younger man concluded that he probably wasn’t the first odd ball to cross his path tonight.

“Evening. What can I get ya?”

Ben dug around in his jacket pocket, producing a crumbled $5 bill, which he placed on the counter before answering.

“Whatever whiskey’s on well. Double. Neat.”

The bartender nodded, grabbing the money from the bar and moving with practiced ease to pull a slightly cloudy glass and a bottle from behind the bar; pouring the alcohol before returning to place it in front of Ben.

The logger sipped the glass silently, contemplating how to frame his inquiry to the bartender before he jerked back as a massive grey head popped up over the bar and barked straight in his face.

“Roosevelt!! DOWN, god dammit!!”

With a whine and a sad look, the gigantic dog dropped his paws off the bar and trotted around the structure; coming to a halt beside Ben’s stool and sniffing him curiously.

Ben’s lips twitched in a small smile as he offered the large animal his hand to smell.

The bartender looked exasperated as he returned to the loggers’ side.

“Sorry about him. He’s friendly, just doesn’t know when to stop being a pest to customers.”

“Not a problem…” Ben murmured, clearing his throat before continuing, a bit louder this time. “… Nothing wrong with a friendly dog.”

He scratched Roosevelt behind his floppy ears, making the dog close its eyes in bliss as its long pink tongue lolled out.

Smiling, the bartender refilled Ben’s glass, which had sloshed across the bar when he’d jerked away from the sudden canine appearance.

“What brings you to town?”

Ben paused, thinking through the question, before deciding that as close to the truth as he could get would be the best way to play this.

“Passing through. Looking for a place to settle for a bit.”

The older man chuckled.

“Well, congratulations on finding us. It’s a little remote up here unless you’re moving through to Spokane.”

“Seems like a nice town.”

The man nodded.

“It is, it is… Been on the decline over the last few years as the mines started to close; but the logging keeps us afloat.”

Ben contemplated his next question.

“… Any problems with the loggers? Looked pretty quiet coming in; but you hear stories…”

Another chuckle.

“I don’t think a big fella like you has anything to worry about; but no. Generally, they only come down on the weekends looking for a drink. Otherwise the town’s mostly left to its own devices.”

Roosevelt huffed and placed his head on Ben’s thigh. The grey-haired man smiled down at the dog as Ben continued to slowly rub his soft ears.

So, nothing, that was surprising… and good… it wasn’t exactly a fool-proof inquest; but if the bartender didn’t know anything about the killings, Ben didn’t want to be the one to bring it up.

“He likes you… Yup, we’re just a couple of old men tryin’ to keep the bar afloat. Ain’t fancy; but it’s honest work. Right, Roosevelt?”

The dog’s ears perked at the sound of his name and he let out a small ‘whuff’ against the fabric of Ben’s pants.

Ben laughed lowly at the dog’s antics, then lifted his gaze to grin at the older man.

“Sounds pretty good to me.”

The bartender extended a hand over the expanse of the bar.

“I’m James; but most folks around here call me Jimmy.”

Smile growing a bit wider, Ben reached over and shook the man’s hand.

“Ben.”

Jimmy released Ben’s hand and set his own firmly against the bartop.

“Well, Ben, let me be the first to officially welcome you to town.”

“I appreciate that, Jimmy… You wouldn’t happen to know where I could get a bed for the night, would you?”

Jimmy huffed, looking vaguely annoyed before nodding.

“I do. There’s a little hotel a few blocks down… but I’m gonna tell you right now, looking like you do, Arlene - the lady who runs the place - won’t let you in the door much less rent you a room.”

Ben hummed. He thought that might become a problem at some point.

“That’s alright. Just have to wait and visit the barber tomorrow…”

Hopefully the rain would hold off until the morning so he could get a dry night’s sleep. One more night in the forest wouldn’t kill him.

Jimmy’s mouth pressed into a line and he seemed to be contemplating something as he stared at Ben.

“Am I right in assuming you’re gonna be looking for work around town?”

Ben blinked.

“Yeah…?”

The older man tapped his fingers a few times against the bar as he continued to watch the younger man.

“Alright. Here’s the deal. I need a hand doing the heavy lifting around here - I’m not getting’ any younger - and in exchange I’ll let you crash in the back room until you find a place of your own. Sound good?”

Ben straightened up, looking seriously at the man.

“…What’s the catch? That sounds a bit too good…”

Jimmy laughed.

“Trust me, it ain’t. The back’s colder than an ice-chest and the hours are long… but like I said, it’s honest work. I’m puttin’ an awful lot of faith in you that you won’t just get drunk and bolt once I close up.”

Ben’s brow furrowed.

“Why? You don’t know me.”

“Roosevelt likes you… and sometimes you gotta have a little faith in people. Let ‘em surprise you.”

The logger’s mouth opened, ready to let the man know that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard before he paused. A memory of his mother, back before she’d gotten sick, surfaced in his mind. He recalled her telling him something similar - that was something she’d always tried to instill in him, even as a child… Faith in people.

Ben clenched his fists under the bar.

The last decade had done a number on any modicum of ‘faith’ the young man had. Death and loss and violence were what he saw. Faith was for the blind. But maybe… once more… for Rebecca…

“Alright. Deal.”

Jimmy smiled broadly, slapping his wrinkled hands against the bar.

“Good! Glad to have you on, Ben.”

The brunette nodded, letting a small grin slid over his lips as Roosevelt began to thump his tail loudly against the thin carpet.

Maybe this would work out after all.

[hotforharrison]

Club Utopia (Oneshot)

Masterlist

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield/Reader

Summary: Meeting Harrison during your first visit to a sex club.

Word Count: 2,001

Warnings: Language and smut, my usual go-tos.

A/N: I first posted this for Writers Wednesday on @the-sha-official0hazanon​‘s blog! I seriously recommend checking him out. He’s the best Haz anon ever.

There was nothing on the exterior of the building that would indicate it was a sex club, not that you had particularly expected there to be a glowing sign saying ‘SEX CLUB’ on it.

You nervously walked into the lobby and approached the counter.

“Welcome to Club Utopia. I’ll need you to read over these rules for the club and sign a form. I’ll also need your ID,” the girl behind the counter told you. “We accept cash or card for the cover.”

You skimmed the rules that you’d already read on their website before you’d chosen to come, signed the form, handed over your ID, and paid the cover.

“You’re set now. Enjoy!” The girl returned her attention to her phone as you walked toward the entrance to the club itself.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but this wasn’t quite it.

The inside of the club was dimly lit with blue lighting, and the only other patrons you could see were two women sitting close together. They looked up at you for a moment and then returned to their conversation.

The televisions mounted to the wall were showing low quality porn, an orgy set at a frat party. Since no one was around yet that piqued your interest, you chose to ignore the porn in favor of paying attention to your phone for the moment.

Hopefully, you hadn’t just wasted your Friday night.

You got distracted on your social media and were quite startled when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, is this seat taken, love?” a smooth male British accent asked from beside you.

The accent was an immediate turn-on, not something you encountered often living an entire ocean away from England. 

You glanced up at him. The first thing you noticed was his pale blue eyes, striking even in the dim light. Although you couldn’t see him perfectly with the lights as low as they were, he was still definitely the hottest guy who had ever paid attention to you.

At that moment, you decided to go for it. You came to the sex club for a reason, after all.

“It’s not,” you told him with a smile.

“I’m Harrison,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Harrison. You’re far away from home,” you commented.

“I travel a lot for work,” he explained.

You wanted to ask more about him, but you weren’t sure what was appropriate to ask a sex club patron, eventually blurting out, “so, what brings you here?”

“You mean what brings me to a sex club?” he asked with a chuckle, raising his eyebrows.

“Sorry, I’ve never been to one of these before, and I’m a little nervous,” you said, sheepishly.

“Honestly, I haven’t either,” he confessed. “This isn’t like meeting girls in a pub. I guess I’ll just outright ask. Would you like to go to one of the private rooms with me?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” you answered, so excited at the prospect of what was about to happen that you almost knocked over your chair as you got up.

He laughed softly to himself at your eagerness.

You followed him across the main floor into one of the private rooms, shutting the door behind you.

The room was small. There was a padded bed with no bedding and a small table containing a bowl with packets of lube and condoms in it, with a wastebasket on the floor next to it. A TV mounted on the wall was showing the same low quality porn from the main floor.

You stood in front of him silently, started to fidget.

“So, uh…” you trailed off awkwardly.

Harrison opened and closed his mouth, looking a bit lost. He leaned down to kiss you, but immediately pulled away. “Shit, one second.”

You were momentarily worried that he’d changed his mind, but you were relieved when you saw he just went to the wastebasket to spit his gum out.

“Sorry about that. I’m usually smoother than this,” he apologized.

“I’m not, if we’re being perfectly honest here,” you admitted.

He chuckled. “Now, where were we?”

“Right about here,” you responded, leaning up to kiss him as he leaned down.

You met his soft and warm lips with your own. The kiss was never really chaste, his tongue quick to dart out and slip between your already parted lips. He tasted slightly cinnamony as he brushed his tongue unhurriedly against yours.

He moaned quietly into your mouth when you stopped being a passive partner, your tongue making its way into his mouth. You traced his perfect teeth, then explored his mouth slowly and thoroughly.

You lost track of time, completely engrossed in the kiss, only returning to awareness when his hands slid down your mostly bare back to squeeze and massage your ass through the thin material of your tight dress. He tugged you completely flush against him.

One of his hands slipped up underneath the hem of your dress, finding its way in-between your thighs from behind.

He broke the kiss, breathing a bit heavily, eyebrows raised. “You’re not wearing panties, darling?”

You grinned. “Where are we right now?”

He smiled back. “Point taken.”

You spread your legs as much as you could in the confines of your dress, to give him more room to work with, but it wasn’t enough for your liking.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, tugging the offending garment over your head.

He chuckled. “No bra either, I see. Not that I have a problem with that. Less in the way.”

His head dipped to take one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it. His fingers now easily found their way between your folds, going for your clit immediately and rubbing slickly around the sensitive nub.

“Oh my god.” Your knees started to buckle, but he fortunately stabilized you with his arm from behind.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he mumbled against the skin of your breast, two long fingers pressing into you while his thumb took over on your clit.

“Talk to me?” you requested breathily.

“Like dirty talk?” he clarified.

“Yeah,” you responded, nodding.

“Love how wet you are for me. Tight, too. Gonna have to loosen you up some first before I can get my cock into you, though.” A third finger pushed in, next to the other two, scissoring slightly as he continued to pump them in and out of you and rub your clit. “Your pussy will feel so fucking amazing around my cock, I can’t wait. I promise I’ll fill you up better than anyone else ever has.”

The combination of what he was doing with his hand and the dirty talk in his delicious accent had you close. “Want to cum, please, Harrison.”

“Well, since you asked me so nicely.” His thumb worked your clit faster, and he fingered you a bit rougher, aiming more directly for your g-spot.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned as your climax hit you harder than a brick wall, burying your fingers in the fabric of Harrison’s shirt while the sparks of pleasure coursed through you.

As you came down from your high, his motions gentled, until he finally stopped. He let you slump against him bonelessly.

He lifted you like a limp ragdoll and carried you over to the bed, gently depositing you on it, before he stepped back to strip off his own clothes.

“Hey, what if I wanted to undress you?” you complained, watching as he kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt.

“You’re in no state to do that right now, and I’ve been dressed plenty long enough. I’m in town for another four weeks anyway, if you’re interested in a repeat performance,” he offered.

“We’ll see. You might have a disappointing dick,” you teased.

“I seriously doubt it, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.” He undid his pants and shucked them and his boxers at the same time.

You looked him over, from head to toe. He was leanly muscled, with endless planes of smooth skin waiting to be touched. It left you eager to get your hands on him. You saved what you hoped to be the best for last, and you definitely weren’t disappointed.

His cock rested against his stomach, looking achingly hard, precum glistening at the tip. It wasn’t huge by any stretch, but it would be more than enough to fill you up. Maybe not the most you’d ever been filled up, or enough to ruin you for other men for the rest of your life, but you knew you were going to leave the club a very satisfied woman.

“Like what you see?” he eventually asked.

“I do,” you replied, simply. “You should come over here now.”

He smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

You watched as he made a quick stop at the bowl of condoms and lube.

He grabbed a condom of the bowl, fumbling a bit because of how quickly he tried to remove it from the wrapper and roll it down his length. It was obvious that he was just as desperate for you as you were for him.

You spread your legs and waited impatiently for him to join you on the bed.

“Look so pretty like this,” he commented, hands brushing lightly against your knees as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“Thank you. If you want me to move some other way, I can. I mean I’m not sure what your favorite position is,” you said. “I’m happy with whatever you want.”

“This is perfect. Missionary is sort of underrated in my opinion,” he told you, lining himself up and pushing into you in one long thrust. After he was all the way in, he lowered himself on top of you and pressed a brief kiss to your lips. “Need me to stay still for a minute?”

“Thank you for offering, but I think I’m good,” you replied. “I really want you to move right now.”

“Your wish is my command.” He rocked his hips against yours slowly, increasing the length and speed of his thrusts gradually, until he was finally fucking you at a just about perfect pace and depth.

You rolled your hips back into his thrusts until you found a rhythm you both liked, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him tighter against you.

His mouth met yours in wet and sloppy kisses, sometimes barely more than moaning and breathing heavily into each other’s mouths.

You snaked a hand between your bodies to get yourself off again before he came, but he pushed it aside.

“Let me,” he breathed. His hand replaced yours, fingers collecting some of your wetness near your entrance. Then, he started rubbing slick circles around your clit.

“Getting close,” you told him as your second orgasm of the night approached. It came much quicker than you’d anticipated, and even harder than the first one.

Your body clenched and pulsed around his cock, milking him, and bringing him over the edge with you.

He came with a loud groan, thrusts growing rougher and more erratic as he spilled into the condom. When his climax finally ebbed, he collapsed on top of you.

A comfortable silence stretched between you as you both recovered, heart rates gradually slowing and breathing evening out.

“How do you feel about pancakes?” he eventually asked.

“Um, they’re fine, I guess?” you responded, confused. “What do pancakes have to do with anything?”

“That was me asking you if you want to join me at IHOP. I’m hungry, and I saw one around the corner. They’re open 24 hours,” he explained.

You laughed. “Sure, why not? Going to IHOP in the middle of the night with a guy I met at a sex club wearing a skimpy dress with nothing on underneath it probably wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

He smiled at you. “Sounds like you’ve got stories to tell me, pretty girl.”

“Sounds like I do,” you agreed, smiling back.

@adayasgeorgia​ @moorehollandplz​ @thollandss​ @dasexydevitt13​ @imagine-lovebug​ @robbinholland​ @strang-ersclub​ @hollandisapuppy​ @goldenpeaxh​ @legendsofwholock​ @superheroesaremytea​ @tomblrholland @niiight-dreamerrrr​ @spidermanffh3000​ @devildisguiseasangel @theyy-lovemo​ @eeyore101247​ @angelhaz11​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @farfromhaz​ @cherry-holland​ @jinx4karma​ @definitely-not-black-cat​ @lizzyosterfield​

[babysunhaze]

a given blade.

Summary : on a stormy evening, you are awaiting his return and you are lost about whether or not you are experiencing a dream or a nightmare every time you see Steve, a god that comes to you every night.

Warnings : light smut, slighly dark!steve

A/N : 879 words. this is my first fanfic that i’ve ever written and i hope you enjoy my portrayal of steve as a god ;)

   A struck of thunder suddenly roars across the sky as you await his return. Your breath comes out more harshly than you intend it to, some droplets of water fall from your freshly-showered hair onto the carpet and you cannot help but shiver from the breeze that comes out from your window as you close it to protect yourself from the newly incoming storm. You fall across your bed, making yourself comfortable and the warm silk behind your back lulls you to sleep.

    The world shifts around you, everything feels too heavy, and your skin sweats profusely. All at once, you know it’s him. You can feel it in the air, in the way his heavy footsteps mount the stairs that lead to your bedroom. It feels like he is giving you a warning, preparing you for his wrath, you even shiver at the thought of his presence. Steve starts by slowly massaging your feet as he makes his way up and places his hand over your navel. Your eyes are closed, you try to pry them open but an unknown force is forcing them to stay in darkness. His kiss tastes like honey and slight mint, you struggle for air as his tongue slides in and devours your entire mouth. You feel his teasing smile as he pulls away and your heart skips a beat as you picture a flash of white teeth, a wolfish man that admires his prey at his mercy.

     Every sense inside you is on high alert, the fact that your eyes are restrained to darkness heightening all the sensations on this stormy night. You know he enjoys it, deep down, he loves that you feel lost at whether or not any of this is real, whether or not this is your worst nightmare disguised in a dark paradise. The bed creaks under his heavy weight and he lifts you as if you’re a rag doll, made only for his pleasure. You feel small and vulnerable, and he pries open your legs making way for his bulging thigh to rest under your very flimsy cotton shorts; he urgently shoves three of your fingers in his mouth and starts to flex his leg as he hums to signal you to move. Your cheeks are completely flushed and you whimper at the friction of his bare skin against your clothed core and you cannot help but moan every more at the idea of the dirty act you are committing, how it must all look from the outside, Steve entirely naked while you’re in your pajamas, his mouth greedily sucking your fingers as you grind on his thigh.

      A wet spot starts to form in your underwear and he chuckles out, “did my baby wait for me all night ? All innocent and precious and unaware of the danger that lurks when she falls asleep ? I know better than to involve myself with humans but I simply cannot resist you, my little prize” he murmurs to himself as he parts the hair around your ear and licks a spot along your throat where the pulse beats insanely fast, all due to him. He becomes impatient and plunges two fingers deep in your heat and you fail to breathe, the air sucked out of you by his sudden intrusion as you grip his shoulders. You cannot see him but you hear his muffled moan every time you press more onto him, it’s like your mere touch can affect him, and he looks like a possessed man driven by need as he inhales your scent at the base of your neck.

      His fingers are in a scissoring motion now, pumping in and out without relent and you clutch on the silky strands of his hair for dear life, your mouth hovering over his, the tempo of his harsh breath matching yours as he pumps himself in his palm. You hear the faint wet slapping sound as you imagine his veined hand going up and down his length, watching you, waiting only for you to end his misery, and knowing that you can have this effect on him, you writhe against his body and finally find your release. As you’re still regaining your spirits, he flips you onto your back, push your top upwards, and comes all over your bare stomach. You feel tired and stripped of all your energy but the last thing you remember before falling asleep is a kiss on your temple and a deep chuckle that makes your heart beat a little more. As he leaves, Steve looks at this human girl, her soft sighs and the white streaks of cum that are still painted over her stomach, so delicate and innocent and made just for him, his personal blade fashioned to render him weak.

          The first rays of sunshine filter through you window and upon waking, you see a reflection of yourself in the mirror, all rosy-cheeks and sparkly eyes and as you drag your fingers across your lips you wonder how an ordinary girl like you caught the attention of a god. Suddenly, without knowing what comes over you, your knees scrape the bristles of the carpet-covered floor and you impatiently pray for his return, a knowing smile adorning your face when you look up, a simple human girl given for him.

[heychangbin]

Memory of an Enlisted Man ║ A Billy in Westworld Story

Wordcount:  4576

Warnings: blood, depictions of injuries, death

A/N: this is a memory of one of Billy’s earlier deployments during his first tour as an enlisted man in Afghanistan. (way before he met reader) You don’t have to read it to know what’s gonna happen in part 3 of BiW, just some backstory for our guy. 

despite the amount of research that went into this, some liberties were taken with call signs and protocols but i tried to be as faithful to the material as possible.

Also,  this is me Marie Kondoing all over canon and giving one of Billy’s major and most significant injuries and scars a new story that won’t just be a one and done deal. 

Also also, can’t thank @the-blind-assassin-12 enough for reassuring me every step of the way while i was writing this. 

tagging my BiW peeps, 

Tagging my BiW peeps: @something-tofightfor @the-blind-assassin-12 @songtoyou @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ificouldhelpyouforget @suchatinyinfinity @christinawxxx @drinix @lysawayne @lexxierave

Let me know if y’all want to be added, removed of just wanna be tagged for the main story!!

The trip was as routine as they came, get from point "A" to point "B" neutralize the threat, and then back to base, debrief, then retire for the night,wake up at 0500 the next day ready for the next mission. They had done several of these since their company had deployed months ago, every road, every turn, planned and carried out without so much as a hiccup.

It was routine.

What wasn't was the IED that tore through the first Humvee midway through the third and fourth checkpoints.

An ear splitting boom filled the air followed closely by the sound of metal being torn apart as if it were paper along with the cracking and shattering of glass. He didn’t hear any screams, everything was drowned out by the high pitched ringing in his ears. He knew he didn't have the luxury of waiting ‘til the ringing died down, there could be enemy combatants surrounding them at that very moment, aiming their guns at the wreckage that was their convoy and pick them off one by one. 

Billy grabbed his M27, the automatic rifle feeling heavy in his hand, squinted out of a portion of the window that wasn’t damaged too much, eyes quickly scanning the outside for hostiles. When he was satisfied that there wasn’t any immediate danger, he threw the door open, wincing as he planted his feet on the pebbled floor, adjusting his stance as he brought the butt of the rifle against his shoulder, eye looking through the optic mount, pointing the barrel of his rifle as he does another sweep  of his immediate perimeter.

Once he is sure that he is not under enemy fire he goes to take a step but a sharp pain shoots up from his abdomen and makes him stop immediately and look down where the pain was radiating from and sees a large shard of glass protruding from low in his gut, blood thick and slowly oozing around the sharp edges that are further cutting into the soft tissue with every shift.

“Fuck” he mutters to himself, he hadn’t thought that he had been injured, there had been no pain but now every breath he took was almost too much. He had thought that the Humvee had taken most of the damage, was expecting only a few minor cuts and scrapes, not to have a piece of fucking glass sticking out of his lower stomach. A piece of glass he’s gonna have to remove if he wants any chance of getting back to base.

He grits his teeth at the mere thought of having to pull the large shard of glass out, it’s gonna be painful but it has to be done, he can’t move without almost whiting out, and if he wants to get back to base, he needs to scour through the wreckage that is their convoy and radio for help.

As gently as he can so as to not irritate his wound further he leans onto the opened door and looks into the Humvee, the three other marines that made up the second car not moving, Reyes, the brother that had sat beside him in the back, was slumped against the side of the car, the right side of his face covered in blood as is slowly poured outta somewhere underneath his helmet, muttering a curse under his breath when he can't tell if the man is breathing. 

Knowing he won’t be able to help anyone before he sorts himself out, he reaches for the first aid bag under the front passenger seat, pain shoots up his side as he feels the glass move against the tender edges of the torn skin. Biting back a groan he pulls the bag free and with deft fingers pulls the zipper open and lifts the flap. Despite his training he forgoes the nitrile gloves and picks up the scissors and as carefully as he can cuts around the piece of glass sticking out and removes the soiled pieces of clothing. The skin around it looks angry, red and swollen, knowing he can't delay any more he picks up one of the gauze packets and rips it open, quickly discarding the packet, takes one of the few loose straps from him uniform and bites into it and finally with his left hand takes hold of the end of the glass, the slight jostle makes him groan again. He steels himself, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and holds it in his lungs as he begins to pull. 

He feels how the edges drag against the soft tissue of his insides and cries out in pain, the sound muffled slightly by the impromptu gag in his mouth. He feels lightheaded for a second when the tip of the shard is freed dropping it as he slumps against the Humvee door at his back, feels the blood rush out and wet the skin around the wound and down, quickly seeping into the top of his fatigues and he forces himself to continue. He takes one end of the gauze and stuffs it into the cut, squeezing his eyes shut and biting on the strap in his mouth as pain shoots through him. 

He’s halfway through the roll of gauze when he feels resistance and he thanks his lucky stars, the wound isn’t that deep, and it didn’t feel like anything internal was punctured, and firmly presses the rest of the roll onto the wound and does the three minute count, then one more just to be safe. He tears through the packaging of one of the larger bandages and wraps it around his waist, making sure that there is enough pressure on the wound to keep the gauze tight against it but not so much that it makes him too uncomfortable.

He pushed himself off the door slowly, carefully, there was pain still but it wasn't the searing and blinding pain that had left him gasping before, it was duller, bearable. He quickly tested his range of movement and is relieved that he isn't too restricted, maybe if keeps the strain to a minimum he’ll live to see another day. 

Himself squared away he checks on the other men in the Humvee, going first to open the front passenger door and swears, Sticks, a 23 year old surfer type, blonde, blue eyes with golden tan skin, from California is slumped against the seat not moving, the front of his uniform is dark, the wet material clinging to his unmoving chest. He reached over and pressed his fingers to his neck, to the spot under his jaw, next to his windpipe but wasn’t too surprised when he didn’t feel anything. There was too much blood soaked onto his clothes for there to be one. He walked around the large car, and threw open the back door, Reyes’ body falling onto him in the same motion, the strain of holding up the 180 odd pound man makes his wound flare up, making him guide the unconscious man down to the floor and propping him up against the back tire of the Humvee. He quickly checks for a pulse and is relieved when he feels a pulse against the tip of his fingers, it’s weak but it’s there.

“Reyes, Reyes can you hear me!!” Billy shook the man’s shoulder his neck lolled from side to side, his dark skin looking more ahsen than it had a few minutes ago, he shook him harder calling his name out louder a few more times until there was a visible hitch in the mans breathing, the rising and falling of his chest more pronounced,

“Bill...what th--” Reyes let out a groan when he tried to move Billy’s hand shooting out to press against the middle of his chest to ease him back against the wheel,

“Easy man...we hit somethin’, took out the first two cars

“We gotta--” Reyes made to get up again, pushing himself off the ground and away from the car, when he was upright he began tilting to the side, Billy barely managed to get a hold of him in time before he hit the ground.

“Easy, easy,” he said as he lowered Reyes back down and against the side of the Humvee, “right now all you gotta do is get yourself right...you can join me after the nausea passes and are able to take a step without wanting to hurl.” 

Reyes gave him a curt nod, Billy knew the guy hated it but he was of no use to anyone with his senses impaired as they were. Billy had had his share of concussions in the past and they weren’t anything to sneeze at. 

Billy stood and peered into the front of the car, Scott “Tennessee” Graves, one of the older men in their unit, who had two tours under his belt already, who had that very morning mentioned over breakfast that this would be his last deployment since his wife was a few months away from giving birth to his first child, was pinned to the seat, a metal rod, no doubt from something off the second car, sticking out of his shoulder, the area around it already drenched in red, skin more pale than it had any right to be, shattered glass littered all over him like some over enthusiastic kid got carried away with a glitter pen. Billy knew the man was gone, no one could be that still and still be alive, still he reached a hand over, laying his index and middle finger against his neck and checked for a pulse. When he didn’t feel one, he shifted his fingers slightly and continued to wait for the slight push against his fingertips. When it still didn’t appear he picked up the arm that was closest to him, pushed the sleeve up and pressed his fingers to Scott’s wrist. C’mon Tennessee, with a heavy heart he placed Scott’s hand on his lap, sniffed back the tears he felt pricking in his eyes and continued on. 

He walked over to the second car, body crouched low and eye looking through the optic mount of his gun again, quickly scanning the area, when he came up on the rear of the Humvee he could make out the sound of someone crying out in pain from the back. Without hesitation Billy reached for the handle of the rear door, having to yank on it a few times before he was able to throw it open, and for a split second he wished he hadn’t. The first thing he saw was one of his fellow marines, Jason Todd, clutching at his left leg, or rather half of it, the bottom half was lying just out of reach from Jason, the stump bleeding profusely. Billy reached for the nearest first aid kit and tore it open, once again forgoing the gloves and reaching for the tourniquet. He ripped the plastic bag it came in and wrapped and secured it around Jason’s thigh, all the while Jason cried, voice hoarse and raw, “My leg, my leg is gone, my leg is fucking gone!!”

Billy gave the tourniquet the final tug and fastened it in place, reaching out and took a hold of Jason’s scruff, and looked Jason in the eye and in as sure a voice as he could said, 

“You’re gonna be okay...Red listen to me...you’re gonna be alright!”

Jason shook his head, the action so violet Billy wondered if he should move out of the way so to not get thrown up on, then Jason started listing to the side, 

“Hey, hey! C’mon stay with me man!” Billy shouted as he slapped Jason none too gently to get him to stay awake and aware.

There was shuffling coming from behind him, making Billy bring up his automatic rifle and aim, finger ready to pull on the trigger, relaxing only when he saw that it was Reyes, legs dragging on the pebbled ground as he slowly made his way towards them, torso low and gun tucked against his side. He looked somewhat better than when he left him, some of the color had returned to his face.

“You good?” 

Reyes only nodded, lips pressed together in a hard line as he leaned against the side of the car. 

Billy tuned and ducked back inside the car, Jason was slumped back against his seat, head rolling from side to side as he continued to mourned the loss of his leg. At least you still have your balls Red.

Knowing Jason was good...as good as he was gonna be given the circumstances, he moved on to check the rest of the men in the car. Norris, Dean, and Hanson were all full of shrapnel and way too bloody to be anything but dead. Still, he went around and checked each for a pulse. He didn’t allow himself to hesitate, to wait, to check and recheck for a pulse that he knew wasn’t there and wouldn’t come no matter how long he pressed his fingers to their necks and wrists.

He goes back around the car, tells Reyes to stay with Jason, keep him awake while he goes and checks the Lead car, Reyes nods and shuffles over to lean against the open car door, Jason only an eye shift away as he looked out to the open road. 

Billy turned to make his way to the lead car and for a seconds wondered if he should, the car was flipped over, the outside burned black, windows completely gone from their frames. I’ve heard of guys surviving worse. 

With that thought in mind he crouched low and made his way to the wrecked vehicle, every other step he took he scanned his surroundings, unable to trust the quiet and still expanse. Once he reached the wreck, he lowered himself onto one knee, a spark of pain shooting up his side when the motion put too much pressure on the packed gash on his stomach.

Despite the pain and through gritted teeth he inspects the inside of the Humvee, he almost steps away, the smell of burnt flesh too strong for him to take but the sound of wet breaths keep him where he is. His eyes scan the inside as quickly as they can and he sees Otto, his body is twisted, one of  his arms is bent in the wrong direction, his mouth is open and half his left cheek is missing, along with his closely cropped chestnut hair from the same side, left in its wake is raw red skin with a scattering of large bloody boils, his bright hazel eyes swollen shut into purple slits, nowhere in sight is the...boy fresh out of MOS training and on his first deployment. He’s gaping like a fish out of water, the sound wet as he struggles to breathe or talk or cry out for help, it’s a sight Billy knows is gonna haunt him for the rest of his life. 

Next to him is James Malone, their companies charismatic reverend and medic, in much the same state with the only difference that he was not only missing part of his face but also his right arm. What could God's plan possibly be for this? He thought bitterly as he saw his brothers suffering. He reaches inside and grips one of the straps from his vest and drags him out and away from the wreck, Otto makes the first real sound, a wet choked off scream that makes Billy wince, silently promising that if the kid makes it out of  this, he’s gonna buy him his first beer. He goes back and pulls Malone out calling out to Reyes as he lays him down beside Otto. When Reyes comes into view Billy shouts at him to bring the first aid bag. Reyes disappears for a minute as Billy removes what’s left of his shirt and presses it to what remains of  Malone’s arm to try and staunch the bleeding. When he looks back up, Reyes is trotting over, first aid kit hanging off his shoulder and tourniquet in hand, Reyes dropping to his knees as soon as he reaches them taking out the scissors and cutting away the sleeve at the shoulder. Reyes gags when he pulls the fabric free, Malones arm is mangled, the skin bloody and torn to shreds. He knows the sight isn’t anything new to the other marine, but he imagines it’s not something you ever get used to.

Reyes tears through the plastic packaging and wraps the band around the swell of his shoulder, the skin there smooth and unaffected. 

“How’s Red?” Billy asked as Reyes finished tying off the tourniquet.

“Had to give him something for the pain, he’s a little outta it, but...we gotta get him outta there, it ain’t good…” Reyes trailed off but Billy knew what he meant, it ain’t good being up close and personal with all that death. 

Billy nodded, “Gonna check the others, you got this?”

Reyes nodded once and moved over to Otto, Billy saw him bring the scissors out before he turned and headed back to the lead car.

The smell of burnt flesh was just as strong and as gag inducing the second time around, he looked over the bodies that lay mangled on the car roof, looking like bloody chewed up dog toys. Georgie’s neck and chest were gone, having taken most of the damage, he would have to check his wrist if he wanted to check for a pulse. Dwight was in much the same boat, the right side of his body shredded to the point that he could see bone. 

If he were a man of belief, he would’ve sent out a silent prayer, begged whatever higher power there was in the world that they accept his brothers into...wherever, both had been good men. But he wasn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that there was an all seeing, all powerful being out there in the cosmos, that controlled all of their day to day occurrences. And if he did and let things like this happen, then he was a cruel being and didn’t deserve that power and the adoration of millions. 

He just hoped their deaths had been quick, a flash of something and then nothing. 

He was pushing himself back up when he caught and heard a groan. He peered back in and caught the rise and fall of Stone’s chest. Billy reached in and grabbed onto the strap of his utility vest and started pulling him out as he said in a hurried voice,

“It’s alright Sir, I got you...we’re gonna get you outta this!” Billy said as he tugged harder, trying to unlodge Stone from under Dwight.

“Stop...it Russo,” the older man said, his throat clicking audibly as he swallowed. “Get the others out…”

“Sir…”

“Just go...I can’t...I don’t want…”

It’s then that Billy took notice of the extent of the damage the man took, while the wounds on his upper body could probably been treated in one of the med tents, then taken to the nearest hospital, his lower half was broken in more ways than one.

“Stone...there’s--”

“God damn it Russo, I said to fucking leave me here!!” 

Billy flinched back at the amount of venom in the man’s words, hesitated telling him that he still had to pull him out, lay him along with the others. Instead he gave him a hard pat on the shoulder and pushed himself up and walked away from the car. Red still needed help, he still had to check if one of the Humvee had a working radio so he could request a medevac. He’d take care of that first and then, he’d go back and drag out the bodies, leaving the lead car for last, that should be enough time for Stone. 

Billy looked over at Reyes as he trotted back to the second car, he was working over Otto still, holding  wad of gauze over one of the larger injuries as he checked his eyes. When he reached it, he found Red slumped against the side of the car, eyes closed and breathing through his mouth, there was a slight wheeze with every intake of air. 

“C’mon Red, let’s get you outta here.” he said as he reached in and gently shook the marine whose eyes slowly opened, giving him a small nod. 

It took some maneuvering, but Billy was able to get Jason out of the car, left arm over his shoulder and side pressed firmly against his own and hobble to where the other survivors were. They had just cleared the front of the car, Billy gritting his teeth and pushing past the pain shooting up his side when Reyes walked up to them and went to take hold of Jason’s other side. The walk went by much quicker then.

Once Red was settled with the others, Billy had Reyes stay with them while he went and searched for a working radio. He checked the second car and went directly to the consol between the two front seats, the radio was a little banged up but the disp[lay was functioning making him breathe a sigh of relief as he turned the dial and entered the frequency for the distress channel, pressed and held the button on the receiver and said the words he was trained to say but hoped he’d never have to. 

“Dustoff, this is Blackbird, requesting medevac, over.”

Billy waited and counted the customary three seconds needed for a response, when it didn’t come he cursed and took a breath and tried to maintain his voice steady and clear. Then repeated the line.

“Dustoff, Dustoff, this is Blackbird, requesting medevac. Over.”

He took the pressure off the button and the click on the radio was the most beautiful sound Billy had ever heard. 

“Blackbird this is Dustoff, send it. Over.”

Billy kept a cool head and clear tone as he said the first line of the request, reciting their coordinates then continued,

“Line too: niner niner six fife. Break. Blackbird. Break

Line tree:...” here Billy hesitated for a moment. There had been 13 members in the squad that left their base that morning, packed away in 3 vehicles on a route that had been previously scouted and cleared as safe, the faces of the brothers he lost flashed through his face, he didn’t let his thoughts linger any longer, knew he didn’t have that commodity, not here. He had to think about the men that were still alive, still breathing, still had a chance to make it outta this desert road. He cleared the knot that had formed in his throat and continued to recite the request he had to get through. 

“Three alpha, break, two delta. Break.

“Line fow-er: Alpha. Break

“Line fife: 3 Lima. Break. 2 Alpha. Break

“Line six: November. Break

“Line seven: Charlie. Break

“Line eight: Alpha. Break.

“Line nine: None. Break. 

“This completes 9line medevac request. How copy. Over.”

The click came again and the voice over the radio was clear as it said, 

“Blackbird, this is Dustoff. We copy, medevac dispatched, EAT 10 minutes. out.” 

Billy breathed a sigh of relief, 10 minutes. He quickly unscrewed the radio from the console, grabbed a couple of smoke grenades and trotted to the back of the car, unhooked the stretches they had strapped there and trotted back to where Reyes and the others were, they still had to transfer Otto, Jason, and Malone onto the stretchers so they could just be loaded up onto the helicopter and evacuated. 

When he reached them he set the radio down and the stretchers down, looked up at Reyes and told him, 

“Bird is 10 minutes out, we need to get these guys on the litters to load them up and…” he paused but the we gotta get the others outta the others outta the cars hung unsaid between them. 

Without further prompting, Reyes hooked his arms under Jason’s armpits and Billy took his leg and gripped at the loose fabric of his fatigues, counted to three and lifted him up and onto the stretcher, gritting his teeth as pain shot up his abdomen. Doing the same for Otto and Malone. Then started the arduous task of removing their dead and lining them up a little ways away from their injured, covering them with a canvas sheet, Billy was working on tugging Stone out of the lead car, the man deathly still as Billy pulled and yanked to free him from where he was snagged on something when he heard the crackle of the radio, he jumped up and out and rushed over to the radio, pushing down the dizziness that threaten to overtake him as a voice came through the receiver,

“Blackbird this is Dustoff 609. Two minutes out. Over.”

At those words Billy pulled the pin from one of the smoke grenades and almost instantly, green smoke erupted from the top of the can, encasing them in seconds. 

“Blackbird this is Dustoff 609, we got visual on green smoke. Is that you? Over.”

Billy says a breathless yes into the receiver before his training kicks in and corrects himself, reciting call signs and confirming that the green smoke was in fact them.

“Blackbird this is Dustoff 609 we see you. Over.”

It wasn’t long before they were able to hear the sound of the helicopter, even less when the spinning of the blades cleared the smoke, men jumping out of the helicopter and running to where they were, taking hold of the stretchers and rushing them over and loading them onto the helicopter. Another couple of guys went to where the rest of their squad laid and loaded them onto other stretchers and carried them to the second helicopter. He was on his way to help them when he stumbled, his vision blurred at the edges and everything seemed a bit too bright He closed his eyes tight and breathed for a moment, steadied himself and took a step when he was caught by the shoulder He turned and saw one of the guys from the first helicopter, his lips were moving but he could barely make out he was saying over the sound of the helicopter motor. 

“What?” he yelled, hoping the guy was able to hear him.

“I said, we gotta get you loaded up!”

Billy gave him a quizzical look, to which the guy said, 

“Soldier, you’ve bled through your bandages, we gotta get you outta here!”

Billy looked down at himself, the dark elastic bandage he had wrapped around his stomach had a large, wet dark spot. He looked back over at the guy, Wade read the name over his right breast pocket

“C’mon, we gotta get you outta here.”

Billy nodded and let Wade guide him to the belly of the helicopter, where Otto, Jason, and Malone were already being hooked up to IV bags, Reyes was sitting on one of the seats in the back, holding a cold compress to his head. Wade pointed for him to lay across a few seats and had him hold clean bandages to his stomach.

He felt when the helicopter took off the ground and shifted forward and that’s when his eyes began to droop, everything fading as tiredness overtaking him.

[the-sha-official0hazanon]

Club Utopia (Writers Wednesday)

I haven't posted this oneshot on my blog yet, so this is going to be a Writers Wednesday exclusive for today! 😲

There was nothing on the exterior of the building that would indicate it was a sex club, not that you had particularly expected there to be a glowing sign saying ‘SEX CLUB’ on it.

You nervously walked into the lobby and approached the counter.

“Welcome to Club Utopia. I’ll need you to read over these rules for the club and sign a form. I’ll also need your ID,” the girl behind the counter told you. “We accept cash or card for the cover.”

You skimmed the rules that you’d already read on their website before you’d chosen to come, signed the form, handed over your ID, and paid the cover.

“You’re set now. Enjoy!” The girl returned her attention to her phone as you walked toward the entrance to the club itself.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but this wasn’t quite it.

The inside of the club was dimly lit with blue lighting, and the only other patrons you could see were two women sitting close together. They looked up at you for a moment and then returned to their conversation.

The televisions mounted to the wall were showing low quality porn, an orgy set at a frat party. Since no one was around yet that piqued your interest, you chose to ignore the porn in favor of paying attention to your phone for the moment.

Hopefully, you hadn’t just wasted your Friday night.

You got distracted on your social media and were quite startled when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, is this seat taken, love?” a smooth male British accent asked from beside you.

The accent was an immediate turn-on, not something you encountered often living an entire ocean away from England. 

You glanced up at him. The first thing you noticed was his pale blue eyes, striking even in the dim light. Although you couldn’t see him perfectly with the lights as low as they were, he was still definitely the hottest guy who had ever paid attention to you.

At that moment, you decided to go for it. You came to the sex club for a reason, after all.

“It’s not,” you told him with a smile.

“I’m Harrison,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Harrison. You’re far away from home,” you commented.

“I travel a lot for work,” he explained.

You wanted to ask more about him, but you weren’t sure what was appropriate to ask a sex club patron, eventually blurting out, “so, what brings you here?”

“You mean what brings me to a sex club?” he asked with a chuckle, raising his eyebrows.

“Sorry, I’ve never been to one of these before, and I’m a little nervous,” you said, sheepishly.

“Honestly, I haven’t either,” he confessed. “This isn’t like meeting girls in a pub. I guess I’ll just outright ask. Would you like to go to one of the private rooms with me?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” you answered, so excited at the prospect of what was about to happen that you almost knocked over your chair as you got up.

He laughed softly to himself at your eagerness.

You followed him across the main floor into one of the private rooms, shutting the door behind you.

The room was small. There was a padded bed with no bedding and a small table containing a bowl with packets of lube and condoms in it, with a wastebasket on the floor next to it. A TV mounted on the wall was showing the same low quality porn from the main floor.

You stood in front of him silently, started to fidget.

“So, uh…” you trailed off awkwardly.

Harrison opened and closed his mouth, looking a bit lost. He leaned down to kiss you, but immediately pulled away. “Shit, one second.”

You were momentarily worried that he’d changed his mind, but you were relieved when you saw he just went to the wastebasket to spit his gum out.

“Sorry about that. I’m usually smoother than this,” he apologized.

“I’m not, if we’re being perfectly honest here,” you admitted.

He chuckled. “Now, where were we?”

“Right about here,” you responded, leaning up to kiss him as he leaned down.

You met his soft and warm lips with your own. The kiss was never really chaste, his tongue quick to dart out and slip between your already parted lips. He tasted slightly cinnamony as he brushed his tongue unhurriedly against yours.

He moaned quietly into your mouth when you stopped being a passive partner, your tongue making its way into his mouth. You traced his perfect teeth, then explored his mouth slowly and thoroughly.

You lost track of time, completely engrossed in the kiss, only returning to awareness when his hands slid down your mostly bare back to squeeze and massage your ass through the thin material of your tight dress. He tugged you completely flush against him.

One of his hands slipped up underneath the hem of your dress, finding its way in-between your thighs from behind.

He broke the kiss, breathing a bit heavily, eyebrows raised. “You’re not wearing panties, darling?”

You grinned. “Where are we right now?”

He smiled back. “Point taken.”

You spread your legs as much as you could in the confines of your dress, to give him more room to work with, but it wasn’t enough for your liking.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, tugging the offending garment over your head.

He chuckled. “No bra either, I see. Not that I have a problem with that. Less in the way.”

His head dipped to take one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it. His fingers now easily found their way between your folds, going for your clit immediately and rubbing slickly around the sensitive nub.

“Oh my god.” Your knees started to buckle, but he fortunately stabilized you with his arm from behind.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he mumbled against the skin of your breast, two long fingers pressing into you while his thumb took over on your clit.

“Talk to me?” you requested breathily.

“Like dirty talk?” he clarified.

“Yeah,” you responded, nodding.

“Love how wet you are for me. Tight, too. Gonna have to loosen you up some first before I can get my cock into you, though.” A third finger pushed in, next to the other two, scissoring slightly as he continued to pump them in and out of you and rub your clit. “Your pussy will feel so fucking amazing around my cock, I can’t wait. I promise I’ll fill you up better than anyone else ever has.”

The combination of what he was doing with his hand and the dirty talk in his delicious accent had you close. “Want to cum, please, Harrison.”

“Well, since you asked me so nicely.” His thumb worked your clit faster, and he fingered you a bit rougher, aiming more directly for your g-spot.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned as your climax hit you harder than a brick wall, burying your fingers in the fabric of Harrison’s shirt while the sparks of pleasure coursed through you.

As you came down from your high, his motions gentled, until he finally stopped. He let you slump against him bonelessly.

He lifted you like a limp ragdoll and carried you over to the bed, gently depositing you on it, before he stepped back to strip off his own clothes.

“Hey, what if I wanted to undress you?” you complained, watching as he kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt.

“You’re in no state to do that right now, and I’ve been dressed plenty long enough. I’m in town for another four weeks anyway, if you’re interested in a repeat performance,” he offered.

“We’ll see. You might have a disappointing dick,” you teased.

“I seriously doubt it, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.” He undid his pants and shucked them and his boxers at the same time.

You looked him over, from head to toe. He was leanly muscled, with endless planes of smooth skin waiting to be touched. It left you eager to get your hands on him. You saved what you hoped to be the best for last, and you definitely weren’t disappointed.

His cock rested against his stomach, looking achingly hard, precum glistening at the tip. It wasn’t huge by any stretch, but it would be more than enough to fill you up. Maybe not the most you’d ever been filled up, or enough to ruin you for other men for the rest of your life, but you knew you were going to leave the club a very satisfied woman.

“Like what you see?” he eventually asked.

“I do,” you replied, simply. “You should come over here now.”

He smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

You watched as he made a quick stop at the bowl of condoms and lube.

He grabbed a condom of the bowl, fumbling a bit because of how quickly he tried to remove it from the wrapper and roll it down his length. It was obvious that he was just as desperate for you as you were for him.

You spread your legs and waited impatiently for him to join you on the bed.

“Look so pretty like this,” he commented, hands brushing lightly against your knees as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“Thank you. If you want me to move some other way, I can. I mean I’m not sure what your favorite position is,” you said. “I’m happy with whatever you want.”

“This is perfect. Missionary is sort of underrated in my opinion,” he told you, lining himself up and pushing into you in one long thrust. After he was all the way in, he lowered himself on top of you and pressed a brief kiss to your lips. “Need me to stay still for a minute?”

“Thank you for offering, but I think I’m good,” you replied. “I really want you to move right now.”

“Your wish is my command.” He rocked his hips against yours slowly, increasing the length and speed of his thrusts gradually, until he was finally fucking you at a just about perfect pace and depth.

You rolled your hips back into his thrusts until you found a rhythm you both liked, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him tighter against you.

His mouth met yours in wet and sloppy kisses, sometimes barely more than moaning and breathing heavily into each other’s mouths.

You snaked a hand between your bodies to get yourself off again before he came, but he pushed it aside.

“Let me,” he breathed. His hand replaced yours, fingers collecting some of your wetness near your entrance. Then, he started rubbing slick circles around your clit.

“Getting close,” you told him as your second orgasm of the night approached. It came much quicker than you’d anticipated, and even harder than the first one.

Your body clenched and pulsed around his cock, milking him, and bringing him over the edge with you.

He came with a loud groan, thrusts growing rougher and more erratic as he spilled into the condom. When his climax finally ebbed, he collapsed on top of you.

A comfortable silence stretched between you as you both recovered, heart rates gradually slowing and breathing evening out.

“How do you feel about pancakes?” he eventually asked.

“Um, they’re fine, I guess?” you responded, confused. “What do pancakes have to do with anything?”

“That was me asking you if you want to join me at IHOP. I’m hungry, and I saw one around the corner. They’re open 24 hours,” he explained.

You laughed. “Sure, why not? Going to IHOP in the middle of the night with a guy I met at a sex club wearing a skimpy dress with nothing on underneath it probably wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

He smiled at you. “Sounds like you’ve got stories to tell me, pretty girl.”

“Sounds like I do,” you agreed, smiling back.