#he just spits up a lot of smoke and chokes on it like an idiot

[bangchansslut6]

BIMBO!!

PART ONE OUT OF THREE.

Okay so I'm finally writing this fic!! I want to warn you guys that it won't be the best and probably won't make much sense so I'm sorry for that!! Hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

BIMBO - An attractive but stupid woman (To all my big titty bimbos out there😮‍💨

FUTURE WARNINGS ~ SMUT, Readers father is a disgusting person, reader is a bimbo, reader is a female, reader has big breasts and is called blondie multiple times. Use of slut, bunny, idiot, spit, light choking, clit spanking twice, face sitting, multiple rounds. Chan is referred to as Chris and made him a little freak...Reader gets cat called but Chan is there to save the day. Chan is apart of a gang. DRUGS, ALCOHOL. Chris and Izumi are broken up but get back together. Cheating?? They have a baby together called Ayum. Enjoy!!

CONTEXT

Chris was your ex boyfriend. Why was he your ex? Because your family didn't approve of him. Chris was a "gangster" he rode motorcycles, spray painted, people were scared of him. And when you were younger you had made the mistake of dating him. Since your family didn't like him you left him without explaining which left Chris furious and lonely.

Chris had knocked you up at the first few months of your relationship so when you broke up you had shared custody. Together you had a son called Ayum. He took after Chris a lot. There were bearly signs of you in him but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Chris had Ayum on weekends while you had him during the week. Which made it impossible to avoid eachother.

WEDNESDAY EVENING

It was a late Wednesday night. Chris invited some friends to his house for a drink and a smoke. When they were all completely wasted they started watching some porno type movie. The usual.

"Oi Chris! Howsss..Y/n's new boyfriend?" Said Felix one of Chris's friends making everyone else laugh at how wasted he was. But Chris wasn't laughing.

"Like I care what she does. They look ridiculous together. Plus I heard he's an ass. And he probably can't handle the whole of her." Chris mumbled under his breath taking a swing of his drink. He told himself all the time that he hated you. But in reality. He was a liar.

"Someone sounds jealous-" Changbin poked the bear with a teasing tone. "I'm not drop the topic." Chris barked loudly making everyone flinch. Damm it. He most definitely still had feelings for her. But how could he not?! He had to see her every weekend. And she was hot..like really hot.

FRIDAY EVENING

The house smelled of men's shampoo and colone. Chris had just gotten out from the shower and was now walking around the house while drying his hair. The sound of his naked feet padding against the oak floor the only sound in the house.

The loud noise of Chris's doorbell stopped the peaceful silence. "Perfect." He grumbled rolling his eyes and throwing a tank top on while approaching the door.

When he opened it he saw you standing there one hand holding a baby bag another hand holding Ayumi. "Look who it is? My little blondie?" Chris laughed leaning against the door.

3RD PERSON POV

Y/N stood infront of the dark wooden door. She'd just drop off Ayumi and move on with her day. This was absolutely nothing..she told herself. You are a grown woman..control yourself.

As the door opened her eyes instantly drifted to the man's abs..she was just a woman though.

"Firstly don't call me that. And yes I'm here to drop off your daughter. Nothing else." Y/N said handing Chris the tiny Elza backpack and then Ayumi. "You know the drill call if you need anything and she has everything in the bag okay?" She added crossing her arms.

"Got it. Also what's with the attitude this morning eh? Your man got your nerves popping?" Chris smirked leaning against the door frame.

"That's absolutely none of your business. Now I'm leaving. I'll pick her up on Monday morning. Goodbye." Y/N scoffed saying her last goodbyes to her tiny angel before walking off. Her hips swaying behind her as Chris's eyes trailed down and up her body. Goddamit she was still hot. Why him? And why did he have a boner now..?

Oh he was still such

An

ASS

I am literally the worst writer ever!! I'm SO SORRY about making the wait so long and the first part not even having any smut!! 😭😭 I'm so sorry for the disappointment and I'll try to write part 2 faster!! Once again I APOLOGISE!!

[monsterbrush]

takineko reblogged your photo: Mad Max: Fury Road Fantasy AU part 3 Did anybody...

My question about this AU– are these the kinds of dragons who can shapeshift? Because that would be interesting for Nux x Capable.

My stance on the matter is this: if the dragon is old enough, clever enough, or powerful enough, they can use magic to transform themselves into humans if they want to, though doing so makes them vulnerable. 

The dragons that I currently consider being able to do this are Immortan Joe (who does it often), Miss Giddy (because it’s easier to read books with human hands), and the Ace (who doesn’t do it at all, not even Furiosa knows he can), and there’s always the possibility that “human” characters might not be human at all, or that they might have magic of their own unrelated to dragons. 

Nux, Slit, and Morsov are all very young dragons. They’ve been collared, branded, and used as laboring beasts for most of their lives, they don’t even have hoards - Morsov’s hoard of “interesting rocks” doesn’t really count because it’s a small pile of rocks tucked away in a corner, Nux’s fondness of shiny reflective things doesn’t matter because they aren’t allowed to hoard anything anyway, and Slit only wants to hoard things that other people want. It would take a lot of work for Nux to learn to shapeshift, he’d need guidance, a lot of practice, and a lot of patience, but I am welcome to the idea that he might one day be successful. 

[abundanceofnots]

The door to the darkened alley next to the Alibi Room opens behind him, letting out a jumble of voices and loud music. Mickey expected Ian to find him there sooner or later. That’s why he’s so surprised to see that it’s not his husband pushing the heavy door open with his hip, his hands occupied by holding two glasses of beer, but Tami, his—

Well, whatever they are to each other.

Strangers, mostly. Both holding the title of Gallagher family appendages—the husband and the baby mama—who occasionally shared a laugh over some Gallagher bullshit. But that has always been as far as their relationship went.

“Occupied,” he informs her curtly before he takes another drag of his cigarette.

Tami smiles, undeterred.

“I was actually looking for you,” she explains as she lets the door close behind her, cutting the sounds from the inside to mere thumps again.

“Look, if you’re already tired of your baby daddy’s dick, I can’t say I blame ya, but you’ll have to find someone else because, on principle, I don’t fuck Lip’s sloppy seconds—”

Tami makes a face. “Jesus fuck. Is that really the only reason you can think of why I might want to see you?”

His eyes dart around her head of hair as he tries to look at anywhere but her, suddenly feeling very tense.

“Yeah?”

“Well, fuck you, too. No, here, listen.” She passes him one of the beers. “I saw the way you looked back in there and thought you might wanna talk.”

Mickey’s felt sick all evening. Ever since their big announcement when Ian threw his arm around Mickey’s shoulders, squeezed him tight, and gave him that blinding grin before he told everyone the good news.

There was clapping and noise, so much fucking noise. People were reaching out their hands to tap him on the shoulder or shake his hand, and it made Mickey feel like those hands were all grasping his throat while his blood was pumping in his ears.

His plan was to spend the rest of the party here, where he could breathe again, chain-smoking his way through the ordeal. He thinks he’ll be sick if he drinks anything right now, but he takes the glass from Tami anyway.

“About?” he shoots back noncommittally.

“Why you’re scared.”

On instinct, Mickey scoffs out a laugh. “Fuck off, I ain’t scared.”

“Right,” Tami replies, giving him a pointed look over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip. “That why you’re hiding out here during your own party?”

“Just needed to—” Groaning in exasperation, Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose and composes himself. “I just needed a second away from everyone congratulatin’ me. Or callin’ me daddy Milkovich. Or fuckin’ Kermit asking if I was gonna be the mom or the dad—” He cuts himself off again, measuring Tami with a hard stare. “What’s it to you, anyway?

She responds with a sincere smile.

“Believe it or not, I was scared of having a baby, too.”

Mickey’s brows furrow in confusion. “That why you decided to have another?”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not scared anymore.”

“Sounds fuckin’ stupid.”

“Maybe,” Tami admits with half a shrug.

They spend the next few minutes in silence, Tami drinking her beer and Mickey finishing his smoke, his own beer left untouched.

“But you’re a chick, you know, so it’s different,” Mickey states resolutely after he lights another cigarette, confident he’s found an argument she couldn’t dispute. “You have, like, all those motherly instincts and shit. I don’t.”

For some reason, she snorts and shakes her head. Then, her expression softens again, and she says, “I have it on good authority that there’s one little boy who basically worships the ground you walk on.”

“He’s five. Fuck does he know,” he retorts back derisively, immediately chastising himself because Freddie knew a lot, in fact. Most importantly, how to get underneath Mickey’s skin.

Not that he didn’t love and pester Ian just as much, obviously. Everyone loved Ian, the charming motherfucker. But Mickey and the kid had a special bond, much to Lip’s irritation.

Freddie was one of the main reasons Mickey decided that he was ready to have kids all those months ago. He isn’t so sure of it now, though.

He takes another drag and lets the smoke out through his nose.

“I never thought I’d be this,” he explains ambiguously, not just meaning being a guy who gives enough shit to smoke outside a bar. “Always knew how to survive. I was good at that. I was gonna see forty, most of it behind bars, maybe fifty, if I was lucky enough and didn’t lose a fuckin’ limb at some shitty construction job. And then, one day, I wake up to a tire iron to my spine—”

“If that’s a metaphor, I don’t follow.”

“—and next thing I know, I have a whole ass husband, a fuckin’ condo on the West Side like some yuppie, and I catch myself sayin’ things like, fuck it, let’s have a kid. What’s wrong with me? I can’t fuckin’ do this, can I?”

The truth he’ll never admit to anyone, probably, is that Tami’s right. He is scared. Fucking terrified, really. Because there’s a kid who will have him for a dad, and Mickey feels sorry for it.

The poor bastard isn’t even a proper baby yet. It’s just a sonogram stuck to their fridge. A baby-like matter that Ian’s app insists is the size of cauliflower now. When Mickey finally managed to spot one in Whole Foods, he found himself apologizing to it for some bizarre reason.

He doesn’t want to be like his dad. He wants to do this right, but he doesn’t know if he knows how.

“The most important thing?” Tami breaks the silence then, reading Mickey’s reaction correctly even when he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t bail on this kid. Or Ian, because he’ll need you to be there just as much.”

Mickey bites his cheek and nods. There’s a chance he’d say more, ask Tami for advice even, maybe, if, at that very second, Ian didn’t come out to join them, bursting out of the alleyway door as if summoned.

“There’s the pops-to-be!” he cheers a little too loudly with a smile that splits his whole face. He stumbles forward on clumsy feet and envelops Mickey tightly in his arms. “I was looking for you.”

“Fuckin’ octopus-man,” Mickey laughs, careful not to let the drunk idiot spill his beer. “How much did you have to drink?”

“Just a couple beers,” Ian answers as he nuzzles into Mickey’s neck.

“Such a fuckin’ lightweight.”

Humming his agreement, Ian snags Mickey’s glass and knocks down most of its contents in one go. He belches before saying in a low voice, “I was planning on dragging your ass to the bathroom later and having my way with you, but since we’re already here, alone...”

He already has his free hand palming at Mickey’s dick over his jeans when Tami makes a sound behind him, something between a snort and a cough.

Ian’s eyes take a minute to properly zero in on her.

“Tami! Hey!” he greets her with exaggerated excitement. “You’re here, too. Why are you here, too? Something wrong?”

Tami looks pointedly at Mickey. “Wanna tell him, or should I?”

He seriously considers being honest for a second, but his next words are out before he can stop them.

“Your brother’s girlfriend was tryna jump me.”

Tami almost chokes on the incredulous huff of laughter she lets out. She finishes her beer and shakes her head, staring Mickey down.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Mickey, I swear to God. Forget I ever said anything,” she barks at him as she goes for the door.

“Hey, Tami,” Mickey stops her last minute. “Thanks, or whatever.”

Tami rolls her eyes. Still, just before she slips back inside, she throws a quick smile over her shoulder.

“Did you just thank her for trying to fuck you?” Ian inquires stupidly when the door closes behind her.

“Sure,” Mickey sounds off without further explanation.

He turns back to his husband and lightly pats his cheek, letting his hand slide all the way down to his junk in hopes of pointing his attention in the right direction again. “So, about those plans you had—“

But all of a sudden, Ian’s white as a sheet, giving him a look of absolute horror.

“What?” Mickey asks, mirroring his look.

“Think I’m gonna puke.”

“’ Course you are,” Mickey has enough time to groan before Ian bends in half and proceeds to throw up on the sidewalk.

Mickey takes a few steps away, trying to give Ian some privacy, but he’s stopped by a hand clutching his wrist and pulling him back.

“I’m so sorry, Mick,” Ian says in between spits as his hand slides down to hold Mickey’s awkwardly.

“Hey, that’s okay,” Mickey tells him gently—just as gently as he strokes his back in big circles. “I’m here.”

[noyaism]

Own It

Pairing: SunaxFem!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: car sex, drug usage (weed), degrading, orgasm denial, creampie, choking, spit play, sir!suna, power dynamics, spanking, praising, and a touch of size kink (lmk if i missed any warnings!)

Song Inspo: Own It - Drake

Ever since your first year of high school, the very first day when you met Suna Rintarou for the first time, you found yourself hopelessly crushing. You couldn't tell if it was his stoic look, the vibe he gave off, the intelligence under it all, but whatever it may have been, Suna peaked your interest in every way possible. This caused you to almost instantly befriend him. He was a bit of a tough nut to crack at the beginning of your friendship, but he eventually let you in and let you get close, and as that happened your feelings for him only grew stronger. 

And now here you were, in your first year of college. The feelings you had for him were the same as they had been for years now, not diminished in the slightest. Your friendship with him had become so important to you, though. He was a vital part in your life, and you had to learn to cope with the fact that telling him how you truly felt might ruin the way things were. That was a possibility you couldn't even begin to fathom, and so even though it almost killed you to do, you tried your best to keep those feelings at bay.

Even with your barred feelings, you still did everything with Suna, trying your best never to make your true feelings known. One thing the two of you had recently got into, after a party you were invited to and forcibly made him accompany you to, was smoking. You knew people who did it in high school, but it was never really your scene. You knew Suna had done it a couple times before going to the party, but that night he finally convinced you to try it, and ever since then you two smoked together almost on the daily.

It was a night as normal as any other one. Suna had texted you, asking if you wanted to go smoke. That question was a no brainer, as it always was, and he picked you up fairly soon after. You drove to your usual spot, the picnic area of a park that wasn't too far away from campus. It was usually emptied out by eleven, a couple stragglers stargazing was the most you ever saw. Tonight was about the norm, Suna’s car being the only one in the parking lot, you two the only ones around.

“Let me try rolling it.” You offered as Suna pulled a rolling tray out of the glove compartment, and the weed out of his jacket pocket. 

“You sucked last time you tried to roll. Sure you're ready to try again?” You stuck your tongue out at Suna, shaking your head lightly at the dig.

“I’ll never get better if I don't practice. Hand it over.” It was a fair enough assertion, thus Suna handed you the rolling tray, with both the bag of bud, a grinder and a pack of wraps on it. Admittedly, you weren't the best at rolling. Someone else had always done it for you, either that or you were smoking off carts, so it was never a skill you had really developed. It wasn't until recently that you had started to roll yourself, and it was definitely a bit harder than it looked. 

“Now see, this one is much better.” You said as you dried the blunt off, running a lighter over it to seal it all up. Suna chuckled lightly, nodding his head as he admired your work.

“Yeah, it looks pretty good, I gotta hand it to you.” You let out a satisfied chuckle and got into the back of the car, settling comfortably in the backseat and patting the space next to you.

“Cmon, I can and will smoke this thing alone if you don't get back here.” You jokingly threatened. Suna nodded, quickly grabbing his phone and putting some music on shuffle before joining you in the back. 

A white cloud of smoke filled the car, hazing your sight just enough for Suna, who sat beside you, to be just a bit more blurry than he should be. As he took the last couple hits the blunt had left he cracked the window open a bit, discarding it onto the cement below and rolling the window back up so too much of the smoke didn’t escape. You laid your head on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar smell of cannabis and letting your breathing level out as the high started to set into your body. As per usual, the weed mellowed you out, allowing you to just relax with him. The silence from the lack of conversation was easily filled by the music that played from the speakers, F**k the World by Brent Faiyaz reverberating through the vehicle. Suna hummed lightly along to the song, and you shut your eyes and simply listened to him. 

It was times like this that you wished you had the guts to tell Suna how you felt about him, but once again you thought it best not to. Maybe it was how stoic he was; even though you were definitely the closest person in the world to him, and you probably understood his emotions the best, there was still no way for you to read if these feelings were at all reciprocated. It was the same things you found so attractive about him that also terrified you to open up. You didn’t want to read into the way he treated you, as you thought that was only setting yourself up to be disappointed, and so you simply wallowed in the feeling of a love so painfully unrequited that you were addicted to how bad it felt. 

“Are you okay, y/n?” He asked, noticing your expression was a bit off, which you hadn’t previously noticed. You nodded your head quickly, picking it up off his shoulder and looking over towards him.

“Yeah, yeah I’m chill. Mind kinda started to wander, is all.”

“Off to where?” 

“It’s nothing.” You quickly objected, shaking your head a bit frantically.

“It’s obviously something, just tell me.” You sighed lightly, knowing very well Suna wasn’t going to drop the topic until he knew what was bothering you. He cared way too much about how you felt to just let something like that go. You knew you had to just swallow your pride and tell him, but you couldn’t get the words out. The pure thought of saying you liked him made your throat feel like it was closing up. So, logically, there was only one way for you to get your point across.

Thus, you kissed him.

It wasn’t a long kiss, frankly because your cheeks got so hot you thought your head might just explode, but it was enough for Suna to understand what exactly it was you were trying to say. As you pulled away the gravity of what it was you actually did hit you, and you hid your face in your hands, shaking your head a bit.

“I’m so sorry, Suna. I didn’t mean to...well I did, but I just don’t want the fact that I like you to make things different between us.” Before he responded Suna took hold of your chin between his fingers, pulling your face up and out of hiding so you were now looking directly at him. 

“You’re an idiot. A pretty one, but an idiot nonetheless.”

Before you could ask what he meant his lips were on yours once again, but this kiss felt so much different than the first one. This one had passion behind it, passion that you didn’t know Suna even had for you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer so you could kiss him deeper. He pulled you onto his lap, hands firmly gripping your ass. 

As the music changed you began to move your hips to the rhythm, I Don’t Think You’re Ready by Tank bumping through the speakers. It was a pretty fitting song for the current situation, as you were simultaneously so ready for what might happen with Suna, and yet you hadn't a single clue if you were ready to take it all. 

Your hands snaked up into his hair, tugging softly on the brown strands as the kiss began to get even more heated. It didn't help that it was already pretty hot in the car, but this offered you the perfect opportunity to not only undress yourself, but Suna as well. You pulled your shirt up and off of you, letting it fall to the floor without much regard for where it was going. His jacket and shirt joined the growing pile, and in an instant your lips were reconnected. Kissing him was addicting, even better than what you had imagined it might've been like. 

You whined a bit as he pulled away, a pout coming over your lips.

“I’m guessing by that look you're okay with going further with this.” You nodded your head, leaning forward and kissing him softly.

“I’m all yours, Suna.”

“That's what I like to hear.”

Now that he had permission to continue, Suna was more than ready to get into it. Just as much as you fantasized what it would be like to be intimate with him, he thought the very same about you, and wanted to make some of his fantasies a reality. He reached behind you and swiftly unclasped your bra, lips latching onto your nipple as you discarded it. He rolled the opposite bud between his fingers, and your hips continued to grind into his. He kissed all over the skin of your breasts, a sweet gesture in comparison to his next moves. 

With one fluid motion your back was now clad to the backseat, and Suna hovered above you. The silver chain he wore around his neck dangled down into your face, enhancing the pure sight of him. Not even Michaelangelo himself could’ve carved a face and physique as near perfection as Suna’s, and the fact only your eyes got to feast upon the sight made it all the more attractive. He pulled your leggings off of you, your panties going with them. The feeling of being so bare in front of him was an interesting one. You would’ve expected that you were going to be more shy, more nervous about it, but it felt so right that you couldn’t have possibly felt that way. Suna bit his bottom lip as he looked down on you, admiring the sight of your nude body in front of him for what would be the first of many times.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” He questioned before going down on you. While he wasn’t the biggest fan of his car, insisting it was a soccer mom car with way too much space than he would ever need, it seemed that the space was finally going to actually come in handy. You quite comfortably were laid out while he still had plenty of space to be between your legs. He placed soft, slow kisses on your inner thigh, each kiss heightening your need for him. By how wet you were it was obvious you were ready for him, and he wasted no time giving you what you wanted.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking softly before he began licking long stripes between your folds. Chills ran down your spine, and moans started to slip from your mouth aimlessly. Suna’s tongue flicked over your clit, making you feel pleasure previously unbeknownst to you. Sure, guys had given you head before, and sure, it felt okay, but nobody had ever come close to being this good. It felt absolutely unreal, and the extent of your pleasure was potent in the way you said his name. Over and over again; Suna, Suna, Suna. Like a prayer desperate to be heard. And he loved hearing it, too. It was all he needed to know how good he was making you feel.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth as you began to chase your orgasm, the heat pooling in your core becoming hotter and hotter. You needed to cum and you needed it bad, and you needed him to give it to you. Suna slipped a finger into you, the second coming in quick succession. His mouth parted with you and his thumb began circling your most sensitive bud, so he could come up and loom over you.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” He asked, with a shit-eating grin on his face. He couldn't shake just how pretty he thought you looked like this, all desperate for him to please you. You nodded your head frantically, looking up at him with pure lust in your eyes.

“Ple-please make me cum, Suna.” You begged, much to his liking. He leaned down and kissed you gently, that same grin on his face as he pulled away. 

“Of course, baby. I’ll make you cum,” He prefaced before quickly removing his fingers from you, leaving you empty and with a ruined orgasm. You whined in frustration, confused as to why this was his course of action.

“But you’re gonna cum on my cock. Got it?” You nodded your head as Suna moved to take off his pants, finally letting his hardened erection spring free. You weren't sure what you had expected him to be packing, but the mere girth of him surpassed whatever you would've thought you were getting from him.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, causing Suna to chuckle lightly. He guided the tip of his member between your folds, lubing up with all the wetness that was already present. It was such a sight for him, one he had been wanting to entreat upon for a long, long time now. 

“That’s my good girl.” He praised before slowly starting to push into you. He took his time, not wanting to hurt you, but he had to admit the way you were clenching around him already was enough to drive him mad. He bottomed out soon enough, and you took him to the hilt. It felt so unbelievably good, and you gave him the okay to start moving. Suna kept his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as he began thrusting. Your eyes rolled back and your back arched, your body overwhelmed with pleasure. 

Your brain was kind of scrambled, hazy from how sensitive you were due to your previously denied orgasm, in conjunction with the high you were still on, but you could make out the song that had started to play. Own It by Drake, again, a pretty fitting song for the moment.

You’re still the one that I adore, ain’t much out there to have feelings for…

Both you and Suna had your passions, the things and people you cared about, but those lists were incredibly limited. There just wasn’t a lot that truly excited you. However, there had always been something that made you gravitate towards each other, something that made you need to be around each other, that caused you to be instrumental in each other's lives. Even if you wouldn't outwardly admit it, you adored each other.

Next time we fuck, I don’t wanna fuck, I wanna make love… 

But this time, you two were simply fucking. There was nothing more to it. It was raunchy, it was dirty, and little did you know, the fun was only just beginning for the both of you.

Suna kept his thrusts a bit on the slower side, much more concerned with how deep he was hitting than how fast he was going. It drove you absolutely wild, feeling every inch of him each time he moved. It was almost too much for you, your walls tightening around him more and more with even the slightest of moves he made.

“God damn, this slutty little cunt just can’t get enough of me, huh?” These words caught you completely off guard, you just wouldn’t expect Suna to say something so utterly vulgar, but admittedly, it turned you on way more than it probably should’ve. You shook your head lightly, looking him in the eyes, your gaze spilling over with desperation.

“N-need more.” You begged, much to Suna’s satisfaction. He smirked down at you, letting his right hand snake up your body and wrap around your throat while the left kept you firmly in place, with the entirety of his cock filling you up. 

“Cmon baby, you got better manners than that, don't you?” His tone was so divinely condescending, not really asking if you knew better, but insinuating you needed to. You were in no position to be anything but obedient, nor did your intentions differ. You wanted everything he had and were willing to do whatever it took to get it.

“Please, sir. I need more, I need it so bad.” You repeated, sounding even more desperate than you did before. By the look in his eyes you knew this was enough for Suna, who slowly pulled out of you. 

“Open your mouth.” He instructed, to which you immediately obeyed. He spat into your mouth, which you more than willingly accepted, a small smirk curling the corner of your lips as you swallowed. You were letting Suna know that he was in charge, and that you were there for him to use, his toy. He easily got the message, letting out a chuckle as he released his grip on your throat.

“Nasty little bitch.” 

Suna quickly turned you over onto your stomach, your face now pushed against the cold leather of the seats. His re-entry was quick, a soft squelch being heard as your walls greedily pulled his length right back in, giving you that oh-so euphoric feeling of being full once again. You moaned out loudly, a small yelp following at the unexpected spank he rained down on your ass. It was the first of many, while Suna simply enjoyed how you squirmed on him with each hit. 

After a fairly decent amount of spanking, enough to leave a deliciously painful sting on your skin, he started to fuck into you again. Suna’s slow strokes certainly weren't gentle, each seeming to hit deeper than the last, but this quickened pace turned that feeling up to a ten. Your mouth hung open as you took it all, moans and whines spilling out carelessly. Suna kept one hand firmly pressed onto the window for leverage, the other gripped hard on your waist, certainly enough to leave a light bruise. The sound of skin slapping with each of his thrusts rang through your head, and his grunts added atop that easily drowned out whatever music was playing. You much preferred this song, anyway.

“C’mere, ride me like the good little slut you are.” You didn't need to be told twice, as Suna pulled out and sat himself down you got yourself up and straddled him. You lined his tip up with your entrance, not lowering down onto him just yet, egging him on just to see how he would react. Fitting to what you expected, he grabbed onto your hips and forced you down, a surprised moan coming from you as your head fell onto his shoulder. 

“No no no, you don't get to tease me, whore. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Got it?” You nodded your head, letting out a small ‘yes sir’ in reply, too breathless to speak above a whisper. Suna’s hands gripped onto your ass as you started to ride him, bouncing on his length, circling your hips a bit every time you came down. 

Holding your orgasm back for this long was way more taxing than you would've thought it would be, your legs were shaking and your walls spasmed sporadically, desperate to finally get some relief. A pit of heat once again started to billow in your core, and you prayed you would finally get to cum.

“S-sir please, I need to cum...fuck, please let me cum.” The utter anguish in your voice did so much for Suna, knowing how much control he had over you and your pleasure turned him on more than anything else. He owned you, and he owned your orgasm, and you were both well aware of it. He was incredibly close himself, evident by how he started to pound up into you, matching the pace you had set. 

“Cum for me.” 

And you did. Almost instantly your high washed over you. You let out a moan that bordered on a scream as your juices spilled all over Suna’s dick. The spasms of your walls around his length made Suna cum as well, depositing a load out into you. For a while you two were fairly quiet, both catching your breath from what was undoubtedly the best orgasm either of you had had up until that point. 

You slowly got up and off of him, soreness almost immediately setting in now that you were empty. Suna ran a hand through his hair, fixing it up a bit before looking over at you. He motioned to his cock, a bit of a smirk still present on his lips. 

“Clean up your mess, baby.” You nodded at your instructions before leaning down, taking Suna’s length into your mouth. You licked up every last drop of both you and him, leaving nothing to waste. Once finished you popped your head up, wiping the corner of your mouth. Suna pulled you up and kissed you, placing a peck on your forehead as he pulled away. 

“So, you like me too?” You asked with a small smile. The answer to the question was more than blatantly obvious, but you still wanted to actually hear him say it.

“Of course I do, y/n. Everyone seemed to know but you, anyway.”

“And who is ‘everyone’, exactly?”

“Kita, Aran, the twins, you name it. Atsumu still won’t stop teasing me about not asking you out. Texts me every single day asking if we’re together yet.” 

With that in mind you picked up the shirt Suna had taken off, pulling it over your head before reaching up into the front cupholders to get your phone. He redressed himself fairly quickly, leaving a bit of his jacket unzipped at the top. You unlocked the device and started a Facetime with Atsumu, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you waited for an answer, making sure only you were in the frame.

“Hey! What’s up y/n, long time no see.” Atsumu greeted, giving you a smile and a wave. He was sat on his couch, a plate of sushi and a can of beer visible on the table where he had set his phone up.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. I was just calling to tell you he finally did it.” Atsumu looked at you a bit confused at first, but as you moved to get Suna in the frame as well it immediately clicked.

“Holy shit, thank god. I was getting tired of waiting, I was going to do it for him soon.” You let out a small chuckle, happy to see Atsumu was as bright as ever in his humor.

“Wait, hold on. Are you wearing his shirt? Did you guys fu-” Before he could finish the question Suna ended the call, shaking his head lightly.

“Yeah, I’m never gonna hear the end of that one.”

[xxreader-writerxx]

Study Buddy (Part 2 I guess)

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, exposition, and cursing.

Y/N= Your Name L/N= Your Last Name Y/H= Your House

You walk into where you and Fred usually meet, his dorm taking off your jacket still stressed from Hermione’s interrogation. You get shoved against the wall lightly, feeling his warm lips on yours. “Hi Freddie...” You giggle when he finally lets you go. “Hello darling...” He says while playing with your blouse buttons. “Woah woah woah… Where’s the work?” You ask, smiling goofily matching his smile and he moves over to show you his desk. You look at his papers which have close to chicken scratch writing all over it. He massages your hips standing behind you with his chin placed on your shoulder humming as he fights the urge to leave hickeys all over your neck.

“This problem is wrong.” You point out a few and he sighs. “Just the tie then? Or like halfway unbuttoned? Or cuddles?” He asks and you laugh nodding. “Fix the problems and we can cuddle.” You tell him and he nods turning faster than light to his papers. You watch as he bites his lip as he tries to correct them. He finally finishes and you nod smiling. “Perfect.” You tell him, kissing him quickly as you take off your shirt beneath his view. “What’s that for?” He asks, smiling. “You did finish your work. Just rewarding you.” You mumble going in for another kiss as you both lay down. As he wrapped his arms around you falling asleep quickly from his insane day of Quidditch you couldn’t help but remember how it all started.

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

I sit eating my favorite meal at the Gryffindor table laughing with my friends, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Lee, and Angelina. I’m in Lee and Angelina’s year but I never really made friends with anyone else in my year. Lee keeps trying to introduce me to the Weasley Twins every now and then but I either choke up last minute or get busy. The Weasley twins are the hottest people, and sadly the most troublesome, in our year. I can tell the two apart from a scar on Fred’s eyebrow but we’ve never truly met. I have classes with both but we haven’t talked. I’m the top of my year and I was always on time for class so me and them never really ran in the same circle. They rather prank and be wild. I love a good prank but I rather study.

I head to potions and the twins have already created havoc. The room was filled with a smoke and I realized it from the smell right away. I cover the bottom of my face with my sleeve running over to the cauldron which has a lot of already sleeping students next to it. I throw a lid on it and use a vacuuming spell to get rid of the leftover smoke quickly. I make a batch of the counter potion and put it in a spray bottle. I walk over to the first few students spraying it on them. I get to the end finally spraying the potion on Professor Snape. Everyone is awake and coughing. I go over to the culprits checking if they're ok. “Hi?” Fred says and I shush him checking for any lung harm. “That was dangerous.” I mumble and he nods rubbing his eyes. “George. George, wake up.” I say shaking the other twin. He pops his head up and looks at me quizzically. “H-How did you know who was who?” He asks, still groggy. “It's fairly obvious.” I mumble still in Healer Mode. “And who are you?” He asks as I move on to the next student. “Y/N L/N” I spit out and they nod. “I can handle this Y/N” Professor Snape instructs and I move so he can handle them.

“Now...” I say turning to the two boys. I slap their heads and they groan, rubbing their heads. “That was an idiotic thing to do. You are lucky I got here in time. If I didn’t that sleeping potion would make your lungs stop working and numbing your body. Let alone the others in the room. You better apologize and I will be writing to your mother.” I start to ramble but get cut off by Fred smirking. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” He says smiling and George nods. “Very kissable.” He agrees and I blush against my will. “Listen flattery won’t get you anywhere. Your mother Molly will be hearing of this.” I say and they whip their heads to see me. “Y-you know our mother?” George says now nervous. “Yes. I visit a lot you two are just too insane to notice.” I spit and they look at each other then me with their eyes squinted. “Oh my god- Y/N?! The no-boobs Y/N?! Well you certainly- Grew.” Fred says and I give him a death stare. “Sorry.” He mumbles and I nod.

I walk over to Snape and check his pulse and everything since he cannot do it himself. I nod curtly stepping away and he fixes his collar. “Good job Y/N/ 150 points to Y/H, 115 points from Gryffindor.” He reports and I nod going to my desk. Instead of my usual partner I get greeted by Fred who is smiling wildly. “Yes?” I ask and he shrugs. “I like this seat.” He explains and I nod.

We finish our class and Professor Snape calls me up. I walk over and he points at Fred. “He and George are falling behind. They have potential but waste their time doing pranks and jokes. Could you help Fred do work? I will give you extra credit. Me and his teachers think you and another girl are the best for the two. Top of your years of course.” He explains and I nod. “Yes sir. I will definitely get on that, no extra credit needed.” I say making him raise an eyebrow. “The joy of teaching of course.” I mumble and he nods questionably.

***

A few hours later I’m banging on Freds door. He opens the door only wearing sweats and I cover my face with papers. “Sorry. Thought you were my roommates.” He explains shyly grabbing a shirt off of the ground out of the millions of piles. I look around with my nose scrunched at the mess. “I always love getting that reaction. Helps the ego.” He says looking at the mess before him.

“Anyways...” I say and turn, giving him the books. “Read these. I have noticed your usual reading rate is around 160 pages per minute. But when you like the book it's 300. Try to meet me in the middle. I also noticed you dog ear pages. When you do that its bad for the book. Bookmark. Now what I think we will start off studying potions and finishing that workload. When you finish that we do transfiguration. Then some DADA homework. And-” I stop myself seeing him walk over to his bed reading a pranking magazine. “What are you doing?” I ask and he looks up at me. “Zonkos.” He points out showing me the magazine. “I know that… Why are you reading it?” I ask sitting down moving his legs. “Work.” I point out the books and he nods. “Read em all.” He explains. “What do you mean?” I ask and he laughs. “I read 'em. How do you think me and George make those potions? We know our shit, it's just the work we don’t bother doing.” He explains. I nod grabbing the magazine earning an upset groan. “How bout each workload you finish you get to read an article.” I propose and he groans getting up.

A few minutes later he’s finished and snatches the magazine from me grumpily. I smile reading the work. It's perfect. Some mistakes but it was only the hard stuff. I smile hugging him lightly and I back away quickly realizing I just hugged Fred Weasley. “Sorry.” We both say and chuckle. “Ok. Next piece of work.” I say and he groans, giving me the magazine. “This counts as slavery” He points out and I shake my head laughing. “I did want to say, your laugh is my favorite.” He says and I look at him confused. “Just because I didn’t remember you doesn’t mean I don’t notice you. You aren’t stuck up like most of the smart kids. I always liked that.” He tells me and I blush. “Just do your work you flirt.” I say blushing and he winks grabbing his quill. “Only flirt with the pretty ones.” He says and I blush more.

He finishes all his work after about two hours the whole time we joked around and laughed. I get up to leave but he stops me smiling. “Want to stay a little longer?” He asks and I kiss his cheek sweetly. “Gotta study myself.” I say and see he’s now blushing. “You studied this entire time.” He tells me and I laugh. “I have advanced classes, always gotta study.” I explain and he nods his smile only dropping a tiny bit. “Maybe later.” He says with a wink. I walk out blushing and sit next to Hermione who laughs at my state.

***Fred POV***

I walk over to Ron with George. We grab his collar from behind lifting him up and bringing him into a nearby storage closet as he yells. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!” He yells at us and we look at him annoyed. “OH GODRIC- MIONEEEE- L/N- SOMEONE BLOODY HELP ME THESE TWO ARE GOING TO HURT ME I KNOW THE LOOK!” He yells banging on the door. We grab his collar again earning a shriek. “CALM DOWN I JUST HAVE QUESTIONS ABOUT Y/N YOU TWIT!” I yell over his screams and he looks at me confused. “Y/N? What about her? She came over last christmas.” He explains and we look at each other slapping each other’s arm. “Why the hell do we not remember?!” We ask each other and he shrugs. “Fred was snogging some girl and George was drunk and high.” He explains and we look at each other annoyed.

“So what are your questions?” He asks and we nod. “We need the insider information. The pretty girl that he’s been drooling over is actually Y/N. She’s tutoring Freddie Boy and he’s got a crush.” George explains and I blush hitting his arm. “Do not.” I say and he scoffs.

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

We start shoving each other and Ron stops us. “What the hell do you want to know?!” He asks and I nod. “Stuff like her favorite flower, favorite food, favorite everything.” He asks and I nod. “Well- She likes Blue Irises, but she’s allergic. Her second favorite is roses, she loves when guys know the meaning behind them too. I remember you read up on them so go with that. She doesn’t have a favorite food but if you want to be alone with her she’s always in the library after dinner. Tell her you wanted some extra study time or something.” He explains and we look at him skeptically. “Why are you telling us this?” I ask and he opens the door a little and points at a table in the Great Hall. “Malfoy’s making moves on her. I much rather Fred than him.” He explains. I watch as she giggles with Malfoy smiling besides her. “He’s probably just trying to use her. She’s hot as hell and smart too.” Ron admits and we nod.

“Well that isn’t happening.” I say and conjure a bouquet of light pink, peach, and coral roses. I walk over to her table and hold them up for her. She looks at them putting a hand to her chest. “Oh my god Fred what are these?” She asks, smiling and I smile back warmly. “I just wanted to say thank you for helping me with my school work.” I explain and she smells them smiling. “So the pink is for how sweet you are for helping me. Then the orange means appreciation because I really do appreciate it. And finally coral means friendship.” I say lying on the last part. She chuckles taking the coral one and smelling it. “Coral actually means desire but this was so sweet!” She says hugging me tightly. I smile at the short girl trying her best to wrap her arms around me and look at Malfoy as he sneers at me. “So Draco… As I said I’m now tutoring Fred, and have been for bout a week, so sadly I can’t tutor you. But maybe when his grades get up I’ll help with yours.” She explains and quickly kisses his cheek. I feel as if I just got a bludger to the chest and I keep my composure.

***Y/N’s POV**

I’m studying inside the library when I hear scuffling at the doors. I walk over to see Fred fighting Ron and George as they shove him into the library. I laugh quietly watching as they shove him inside. I can’t make out what they’re saying but they finally get him inside. They talk for a few seconds and Ron grabs his shoulders then slaps him a few times. He stands up nodding and they leave. He tries running out but they shove him back inside and I laugh a little louder. It gets his attention and he fights them harder making me feel a little upset. I walk over as he fights them and tap his shoulder. “If you’re afraid of me you can just say that.” I tell him and he looks down at me blushing. “N-no no no. I just don’t want to be studying but they’re forcing me.” He explains and I nod.

“Want to study with me? The library’s a little stuffy so I was just about to head to my dorm. If you’d like I would love it if you’d join me.” I ask shyly and he looks down at me smiling. “Well… Don’t want you to be lonely...” He says and I laugh holding my hand out. I drag him to my dorm sitting on my bed.

After some time of studying I catch myself looking up at him even though his back is turned to me he’s hypnotizing. I watch his strong arms move from one book to another or how he would lean his head back all the way. I rub my thighs together lightly as I try to take my mind off of it but I soon realize I have a mirror right in front of him. He spins around in his chair looking at me with a smirk. “Watcha doin?” He asks and I shrug acting innocent. He nods turning around chuckling.

***

A few days later I’m tutoring him in a classroom as he sits at the desk and he finally gets annoyed. He pushes all of his books on the ground getting my attention. I turn and see him walking up to me smiling flirtatiously. “I have been staring at your ass for way too long for that to be allowed.” He says and I blush furiously. “What?” I stutter and he grabs the side of my face kissing me. I give in to the kiss holding the back of his head and he slips his tongue past my lips. I moan lightly at this as he picks me up massaging my ass. He sets me on the desk when he finally retracts his head, placing his forehead to mine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He whispers out of breath. I kiss him again and feel his hands start to undo my polo. I place my hand on his chest and he looks at me worried. “W-we shouldn’t be doing this...” I mumble and he kisses me lightly. “We don’t have to, but I do think we totally should.” He says and I chuckle. I kiss him again and pull away stopping myself. “Godric why do you have to be so hot?” I ask and he shrugs smiling.

“What if...” He starts. He walks over to his desk and taps it. “Each piece of work done. One article of clothing. Then you're still doing your job and we still get to have fun.” He proposes and I chuckle shyly. He picks me up from the front desk placing me on his with my legs on either side. “Well?” He asks again and I bite my lip. “We would be breaking the rules...” I mumble and he laughs as if I said the funniest joke ever. “Like I care. Now. One piece for one piece of clothing?” He asks and I finally give in nodding. He kisses my thigh and I feel it go all the way to my core.

He rubs my thigh absent-mindedly as he works on the paper. He finally gets the first one done and hands it to me as he unbuttons the polo I have on. I check it and place it behind me. “First one done.” I say as if my shirt wasn’t off and he wasn’t eyeing my chest. “One kiss?” He asks and I laugh kissing him. He starts kissing down my neck and I finally stop him, handing him the next piece of work. He gets that done quicker than ever and tries taking off my bra but I stop him. “Underwear last.” I tell him and he nods, kissing my thigh again sending shivers through my entire body. He helps me shimmy off my skirt and throws it on the ground. “Godric you are beautiful.” He mumbles looking at me with a hunger I’ve never seen before.

He finishes another assignment at record speed. “Are you sure darling?” He asks before taking off my bra. “Please.” I mumble and he nods taking it off. He keeps his eyes on my chest making my cheeks turn pink. “Darling… You are gorgeous.” He tells me, kissing me roughly. He massages my chest making me moan. He drags my hips to fall into his lap as I feel contact with my aching clit and his trousers I moan louder into his mouth. “I know darling..” He mumbles as he moves to my chest sucking on my nipple and massaging the other. “Freddie...” I moan as he leaves hickeys on my chest. I remember the work and almost don’t care but making him wait would add so much more fun.

I give it to him sitting back in my place and he groans hitting his head on the desk lightly. “You are murdering me here.” He mumbles and I chuckle massaging his head lightly. He picks it up, moving his work back on the desk. Every now and then he’d glance at my chest smirking and working harder. He finishes the homework, giving it to me and I read it over slowly. He finally grabs it viciously and slamming it behind me, making me jump. “Darling please take off those horrible panties before I cut them off.” He tells me and I nod quickly. I shuffle them off and he flicks his wand to silence and lock the room.

He tugs my hips to the edge of the desk kissing my inner thigh. He moves to right above where I want him to be kissing it and I whine lightly. “Aw darling… Would you like me to lick your pretty cunt clean?” He asks and I nod furiously as he finally licks all the way from my entrance to my clit and lightly swirls his tongue around it making me moan. He starts eating me out (is it obvious I don’t know how to word it-) and rubbing my clit as I moan his name over and over again. He pulled away right before I was about to come, leaving me to let out a whiney moan. He kisses me lighty and pulls away chuckling. “Sorry I just can’t take the trousers right now.” He mumbles softly. He gets up taking his clothes off and I watch biting my nails lightly.

He kisses me finally and I stop him before he sits down. “I-I’ve never. Ya know...” I mumble and he kisses me. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He tells me and I shake my head. “No I just want to warn you...” I explain and he kisses me softly. “You sure?” He asks and I nod, biting my lip. He sits down and moves me slowly on him. It hurts at first but Fred’s kisses helped me and the pain turned quickly into pleasure. I nod and start moving when he gives me the go-ahead. I feel his hands guide my waist as I go up and down against his dick. He chuckles, kissing me, moving one of my hands that are clutched to his shoulder to my stomach, smirking. “Feel that? I shouldn’t even fit” He chuckles and I nod kissing him roughly. I feel him massage my ass with one hand still guiding me with the other. He moans my name, moving his head back. I feel myself get close as he keeps moving me sucking on my chest. “Freddie ‘m gonna come.” I mumble and he nods kissing my shoulder. “Go on. I want to see your cum spill on my lap.” He mumbles and I nod, continuously going up and down.

I moan out his name loudly when I finally come all over his dick and he lightly praises me. I keep going until I feel him cum inside me and I fall into his arms exhausted. “So… Do I get out of tutoring now?” He jokes and I laugh lightly. “I will not succumb to your seduction.” I mumble and he laughs. I feel his chest rise and fall violently from laughter and I just hum in ecstasy.

We get dressed and he stops me blushing lightly. “Is this… an only one time thing?” He asks and I laugh. “If you think you will take my virginity and it being a one time thing I will hex your cute ass.” I tell him and he smiles pulling me in for a long kiss. We sit down facing each other and I grab my notebook. “Whatcha doin?” He asks and I click my pen. “We need rules” I tell him and he nods.

“Ok so You follow the school rules, I follow yours. You don't, you don't fuck me for a week per rule broken got it?” I ask caressing his cheek as he melts into it smiling goofily. “Yes ma’am...” He mumbles and I write it down. “Let's also make the clothing=work. Not all the time, just when I’m tutoring you.” I tell him and he nods happily. We continue making rules while he rubs my wrist lovingly.

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

I get snapped back to reality as Fred is giving me a light backrub to soothe the tension from Hermione’s questioning. “Right there darling...” I mumble and he moves a little to go to where I was pointing. “What were you thinking about?” He asks and I nod as he tries his best to massage my back. I smile at the question and rub his hand. “When we got together four months ago.” I mumble and he chuckles. “That was a many blow and hand jobs ago.” He jokes and I slap his hand laughing. “Can’t believe they still haven’t found out! Like should we tell them already?!” I ask and he laughs shaking his head. “It's funny watching them prod and wonder.” He tells me. I hear the door rattle and George mumble a spell. I jump to the floor and roll underneath his bed quickly. Should I make a part 3 where they get caught? So sorry if its bad

[falling-pages]

Oh no I'm late to the Bakugou party! (if you want to) I'll send a request of Bakugou using his quirk to light your cigarette. Perhaps you two are sitting outside a coffee shop, talking or rather bantering back and forth, and you pull out a cigarette to which he leans forward and sets the tip ablaze, all while keeping eye contact -

Sis 🥵 Thank you for this!! I deviated it a little bit to make it a hurt/comfort fic, so I hope that’s okay. It took me a minute to figure out, but in the end I’m happy with the result! I had fun with the banter and making their history. I also threw in a little bit of mutual pining to tug at the heartstrings.

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Description: When Bakugou’s childhood best friend is injured in battle, he goes against all hero training to get them to a safe place and comfort them against the pain, realizing new feelings in the process.

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Pro-Hero Katsuki Bakugou x Pro-Hero Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Fluff, Childhood Friends-to-Lovers

Warnings: Smoking, blood.

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“Just give it to me!” you snarled, lashing your fingers at Bakugou as he dragged you along the sidewalk. Even as the rough concrete dragged against your back, grating against the sensitive skin exposed by the rips in your hero costume, all you could focus on was the aching need lodged in the back of your spine.

Bakugou listened to you whine, only rolling his eyes as he continued to haul you along the street. He wished he could carry you--it would be a lot faster, and it would put you in less pain--but with his left arm wounded by the same villain that took a bite out of your side, you’d have to be content with the bumpy ride.

It was the opposite of everything he’d ever learned in his hero training, but this was you, his best friend, and he couldn’t leave you vulnerable and hurt on the ground for the villains.

“No, dumbass,” he grunted. His right arm muscles strained from carrying you. “You need medics, not a cigarette.”

“Give me both then!” you demanded. “Baky, come on, you know I need one right now!”

“If you need a smoke that badly, I’ll explode in your face. Inhale that.”

“Not the same.” 

Bakugou ignored your rant, only focused on finding a safe place. When he was a student he would have thought this cowardly, running away from a battle, but as soon as he saw you fall a few minutes ago all he could focus on was getting you away from the fight and hidden from villains. Despite the public oath he took upon graduation to protect the city and its citizens above all else, you were his best friend, and you came first.

His eyes searched the streets for any refuge. Despite the nice weather, no one was outside, a welcome relief. For once they actually listened to orders and stayed inside. He didn’t have to worry about you and some clueless civilian getting mixed up in a villain’s way.

But, if someone were here, maybe they could have helped.

Soon your complaints turned to pained whimpers, and Bakugou’s heart raced as he realized he had little time left. You needed a hiding spot and a doctor, and fast.

“Hang on, dumbass,” he said, tightening his hold on you. “You’re not dying on me. That’s extra behavior.”

“I’m not an extra,” you grumble.

“Hell no you’re not. So just stay with me.”

Despite the raging pain flowing through your body, you cracked a smile. He couldn’t see it, but it warmed your heart to know he cared. Even if he was awful about admitting it.

As he got more fatigued, your body got heavier. For both of your sakes, he needed to find a hiding spot fast.

Finally, he found a closed coffee shop with a broken lock and dragged you inside. He hid the two of you behind the counter, amid bags of coffee beans and pristine equipment. Though the lights were off, the windows were big enough to let him see just how badly you were injured.

Slightly delirious, you rested your head against a sack of flour to stop the world from spinning. Your injury was bad enough, but him dragging you across the city exacerbated the blood loss. The edges of your vision were fogging up.

You felt his hands on your stomach, hooking under the torn strips of cloth and ripping to expose your lower abdomen where the bite was. Too hurt to even be embarrassed, you let him examine you. The rush of air was cold against your burning skin.

Bakugou sucked in his breath. You had been attacked by some sort of poison villain, a new one. They had sunk their fangs into you and pumped toxins, causing the veins stretching across your stomach to turn a sickly neon blue as the poison spread. When they detached their fangs, they took a chunk with them, leaving an exposed wound down the side of your body.

If the poison were as dangerous as it looked, you would have died already. What he needed to focus on now was your blood pooling on the floor.

He crouched above you, instinctually shielding you in your weakened state. The villain had attacked him too, but he managed to rip them off before the toxins could paralyze him, only leaving a bloody wound in his bicep. In the heat of battle, he had to cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding…

“Hey, idiot,” he said, snapping his fingers. You slowly opened your eyes, watching him in paralytical annoyance. “I’m going to use my quirk to stop the bleeding, okay? Bite this.” He found a spare dish towel and strapped it in your mouth, both to protect your tongue and keep your screams quiet from anyone who may have followed the blood trail outside.

You accepted it, but your eyes betrayed the fear ricocheting through your body. Just as he lowered his good arm to your wound, a tear slid down your face, catching his attention. With the most comforting expression he could muster, he lifted his numb hand and wiped the tear away, letting it rest against your cheek for a few subtle moments.

“Hey,” he whispered, gruff voice lowered into a calming tone. “I know this is going to hurt. I’m sorry. But this is the only way to stop this type of bleeding, so you need to be brave for me, alright?”

A couple more tears escaped as you nodded. He dutifully wiped them off. He pushed your hair back from your eyes and made you look at him, showing you his blown-out pupils and just how scared he was, too. 

“You are the bravest person I know, and that’s saying something, especially considering myself.” You smiled at his attempt at a compliment. “So I just need you to keep being brave.” In lost judgement, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, feeling how hot your face was even beneath his lips. You shed another tear, not from pain, but from gratitude for not being alone. 

As he kissed you, he activated his quirk, letting the heat consume your side. Fire licked at your skin as you mustered a scream, biting down on the dish towel in an attempt to lash out. Bakugou pressed his forehead against yours, pinning down your legs with his own to keep you still as you thrashed, muffled curse words mixing with your cries. 

“Just a few more seconds,” he whispered, feeling your skin close beneath his hand. “Hang on.”

You grabbed his other hand and squeezed, needing something to anchor your consciousness. He let you, returning the affection even with the little feeling he had in the wound. Each scream pierced his heart.

Finally, he felt the wound close completely and released your side, waving away the smoke that scorched your skin. You panted and spit out the towel, eyes rolling back from the shockwaves of pain. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would have to do for now. At least the bleeding stopped; an antidote could come later.

“Baky…” you whined.

He knew what you needed, silently getting up and finding a mug to fill with water. You struggled to sit up, pain blinding every move, until you felt hands shift beneath your armpits and pull you into a sitting position. He moved your head to rest against the counter and brought the cup up to your lips.

“Drink.”

You did as you were told, gulping the liquid as quickly as you could. Bakugou yanked the cup away mid-sip, making you choke. Water dripped down your chin as you shot him a dirty look.

“Small sips.”

You grabbed the mug to hold it for yourself, though his hands still hovered lightly against you. His bright red eyes stayed trained on yours as you followed his instructions, draining the cup bit by bit, until it was empty and you were satisfied. 

You held his gaze for a little while longer, daring him to do something, anything.

“Thank you,” you finally whispered, feeling the pressure of his strong hands overcome you, making you put the mug down on the floor. His hands covered yours, worn scars upon worn scars, warmth upon warmth.

He rocked on his heels and smirked. “You’re not dying on me, extra. You’re damn wrong if you think you can get out of opening an agency with me.”

“I’m not an extra,” you spat again, but he heard the mirth in your voice. The promise you made together in high school makes you feel warm, flooding your insides with nostalgia, filling your mouth with honey. Open your own agency together, be Heroes together or not at all. 

Today, it was almost not at all.

“I want--”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou read your mind. He reached into the hidden compartment of his gauntlet and presented your favorite pack of cigarettes, pulling out a long, slender stick and perching it on your lips. His hand lingered a second too long, brushing against your chin, but his eyes widened as they met yours. 

A fleeting desire crossed your mind, like a comet streaking against the sky, but then the ache in your side sent you back to earth.

“Thanks.” You said, lifting your hand to push the cigarette further into your mouth. 

“Tch. Those things will kill you,” Bakugou grumbled, but he leaned forward, not breaking eye contact, until he was close enough to almost taste the other end. His gaze dropped down to your mouth, back to your eyes, and then down again as he raised his hand.

With a tiny pop, his palm connected to the cigarette butt and produced an explosion just big enough to light up the end. The buzz filled your mouth and crawled down the back of your throat, scratching that sweet itch. As you inhaled, Bakugou shook his hand out to clear the smoke.

“Can’t be much worse than this poison villain.” You took a breath. “I’m bouncing back fine.”

Bakugou huffed, setting his sight on the blue veins on your abdomen. “You weren’t the one carrying a basically unconscious body.”

“First of all, I was conscious, and second of all, you were dragging me. There was no ‘carrying’ in this scenario.” You watched the guilt manifest in his eyes, that rare sight of remorse. “So if I get skidmarks on my back, that’s on you.”

“Would be a cool scar. You could match Dunceface’s lightning strikes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, watching as he inhaled the smoke. His eyes sparkled like rubies in the night sky. “Maybe. But at least I know you’ll save me again.”

“Tch. I have since we were kids, haven’t I? I will, forever.”

He wasn’t looking at you. Guilt settled in his stomach as he stared at the charred skin stretching between your ribs and hip, thinking about how much pain he must have caused you. You winced as you leaned forward to touch his shoulder, leveling eye to eye and just a few inches apart. The movement seemed to send an electric shock through him as he forced himself to meet your gaze. 

He had been your partner, your protector, for as long as he could remember. And today, he let his guard down, and you got hurt. You almost died. And in saving your life, he had caused you more pain.

Your aching scream would fill his nightmares for the rest of his life.

“You didn’t do this to me, Katsuki.” His teeth rippled along his lower lip as you said his first name. The familiarity of your voice, your scent, your touch washed his heart in peace. You were here. You were with him. You were safe.

“I did. I exploded your side.” He wanted to shake you off, pay penance for his guilt with a broken heart, but your grip was like steel. “Some hero I am, doing this to--”

“You saved my life!” you screeched. “Katsuki, look--look at me!”

He turned his eyes to you, but he wasn’t looking at you, he was busy searching for any other explanation for how close you were now.

“If you hadn’t been watching me when that villain attacked me, I would be dead. If you hadn’t dropped everything and dragged me to safety, I would be dead. If you hadn’t used your quirk on me, I would be bleeding out in front of you.” You pant and grab his face, forcing him to look into your soul, into your heart, into the very depths of feelings you had for him. “You saved my life. You are a hero.”

He was puzzled. You were a pro-hero. He didn’t need to protect you anymore. So why was he insistent on watching?

Because he could never take his eyes off you.

He whispered your name as if it were a prayer, thanking everyone who cared to listen, as he leaned in and kissed you.

Your heart shattered, but in the best way, as if it had been puzzle assembled incorrectly and each piece was falling back into its perfect place.

As if he could control it, the pain lessened the longer Bakugou kissed you, gently grabbing your waist opposite your wound. The kiss was salty, and warm, and long, the product of years of pining and pent-up feelings. Every time you tried to pull away, he would bring you back in, as if he couldn’t believe this was actually happening and needed more proof. You, too, couldn’t believe how gently your angry blond friend held you. It was the opposite of everything you had ever known about him, but maybe you had a good influence on him.

Maybe, this was the start of something new.

-

-

-

[rainboq]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck she is hot though.

I’m so boned.

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

“Uh, hey Max! You look… hella great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spicy or nah?”

“No way, never spicy.”

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

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

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

“Muy bien, gracias. ¿Y tú?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about the part where you said yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re adorable.”

“You’re one to talk.”

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

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

“Yeah but yours are tastier!”

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

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

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

“It's a deal then.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m older than you!”

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

“You got me there Maximus Wrecked.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey, you’re great so…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, knock yourself out.”

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

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

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

“So, uh…”

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

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

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

[fallen-gravity]

Sixty Candles

On June 15th, 1972, Stan Pines celebrates his eighteenth birthday in the back seat of his car.

or, how Stan Pines spent his birthday throughout the years.

Notes: Here is my very loose interpretation for Week 4 of @stanuary!The prompt for this week was Future with the subcategory Old, and I decided to play around with the concept of birthdays! This was a lot of fun to explore and I hope you have a ton a of fun reading! :D

AO3

At exactly midnight on June 15th, 1972, Stan Pines celebrates his eighteenth birthday in the backseat of his car.

It’s not ideal, and nothing like how he thought he had it planned from the moment he turned sixteen, but he supposes he should be thanking his lucky stars he’s able to celebrate at all. His Ma, bless her caring heart, must’ve snuck some emergency funds into his duffle bag the moment she saw Pa reaching for it before he kicked Stan to the curb.

Stan supposes that she probably intended for that money to be spent on emergency rations and gas money, but what she doesn’t know probably won’t kill her. He also supposes that he probably should’ve gotten himself a cake, but cakes are messy and he has no means of cleaning it up, so a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes will have to suffice.

He pops open the bottle with ease, and takes a large swig.

“Happy birthday, y’ asshole” he says to nobody, slamming the bottle down onto his car dashboard with more force than intended. “Hope you’re livin’ it up at home with your fancy expensive pizza and two layer cake you’ll never be able to finish on your own” He leans back against his chair, propping his arms smugly behind his head. “An’ I hope the guilt is eating you alive” he slams his hand down on one of his armrests, and reaches for the bottle on his dashboard for another swig.

Just six months ago- not even a year, just six months ago, Stan and Ford had been talking about what it’d be like to share their first drink together. They’d talked about getting absolutely wasted at the pub down the block, followed by walking to the boardwalk to ride the coaster until it made them both sick.

It wasn’t much, but it was theirs.

Stan chokes, and he isn’t quite sure if it’s the alcohol or his emotions.

“Fuck,” he coughs, and stumbles out of the car for some fresh air. In between his coughs and splutters, he takes a sharp inhale of the cool nighttime air to steady his breathing. He sighs deeply, and pulls out the pack of cigarettes from his ratty coat pocket. 

He lights one up, and leans against his car to lose himself in his thoughts as he wordlessly watches the cigarette smoke dissipate into the starry night sky. Stan gets too distracted by the sight and accidentally burns his first all the way down to his fingertips, and hisses in pain as he stumbles to light a new one.

No matter. He stomps on the burnt remains with his shoe, and grinds his emotions into the ground with them.

 ~~~~~~~

On June 15th, 1978, Stan Pines celebrates his twenty-fourth birthday in prison.

“Pines!” An officer shouts, whacking at the cell door with his baton. “Wake up. You’ve got a visitor”

Stan sits up in the cheap cot, groggily rubbing at his eyes. “Wassat?”

The officer’s keys jingle as he clicks Stan’s cell door open. “You’ve got a visitor. He insisted it was important, so we’re giving you ten minutes to talk.”

Stan’s been to jail enough times that he knows that when someone says something’s important, it really just means that they bribed their way through security so they can talk to Stan before the designated visitor hours.

But who could possibly be willing to risk getting arrested just to talk to him before eleven in the morning? Every name that comes to mind is either on the run, already in jail, or…much worse. Anybody foolish enough to try is either out of their mind, or…someone who genuinely wants to see him.

But…who could possibly want to see him? After everything he’s done, after everyone he’s stolen from, who could possibly be left that trusts him enough to bribe a police officer for his company? The police officer happens to walk Stan by the surveillance room, and he notices his page-a-day calendar is torn to June 15th.

Stan’s heart nearly stops in his chest.

It-It couldn’t be, could it?

Six years of silence, and Ford wants to break it like this? Is this some kind of joke? What kind of idiot does Ford take him for, thinking that now is an appropriate time to make amends? After all the times Stan tried writing, or calling,  or even trying to get a hold of him through Ma, now is the time that Ford finally agreed to reconvening? 

Pah. He had his chance the past five times Stan tried to pass on a happy birthday. He doesn’t care if it’ll land him ten more years in prison, the moment he sees his twin brother’s stupid face he’s spitting in it.

As Stan rounds the corner to the visitation room, though, all of his anger disappears into thin air, and if it weren’t for the officer pushing him along, he’d turn heel and sprint the other way.

“My friend!” Rico cheers with a forced smile on his face. He’s holding a large box in his hand. “It’s so good to see you again!”  He takes a seat at the small table, rhythmically tapping on the box.

Stan swallows hard, but takes a seat across from him. “It’s, uh…” he squirms uncomfortably, unsure if he’s allowed to address him by name. “…good to see you too, buddy. What, uh, what are you doing here?”

Rico laughs heartily. “What, a man cannot visit his best friend on his birthday?” He flips open the box he brought with him, and Stan flinches when he spins it around towards him. To his surprise, it…looks like a perfectly normal birthday cake.

“Would you mind giving us a moment alone?” Rico flashes a grin towards the police guard behind Stan. “I would like to sing my dear childhood friend happy birthday, but I’ve always been very shy about the sound of my voice. I promise I will be quick”.

Childhood friend? 

The officer squints at the birthday cake in the box for a moment. “Fine.” He says. “You get two minutes. And I’m staying right outside the door to prevent anything funny from happening”

“Of course! You have my word,” Rico grins, placing his hand over his heart. The officer says nothing, and for the briefest of moments Stan’s convinced he sees right through Rico’s bullshit and he’ll let Stan slip quietly back into his cell.  But after those brief moments pass, the officer shrugs as he closes the door behind him.

Rico’s fake-plastered grin slips from his face the moment the officer is out of sight.

“Alright, listen here, you walking stain upon the Earth,” Rico slips easily into Spanish. “You think you’re safe behind these bars? You think my boys still won’t burn this place to the ground to collect what you rightfully owe us? You’re gravely mistaken. We have eyes everywhere, in every corner of the globe. And don't you dare even think about running off somewhere else under a new name, Stanley Pines, because we’ll find you, one way or another”

Rico stands from his chair and pushes the cake box towards Stan. “As soon as those guards declare you a free man, we’ll be waiting for you on the outside.” He grips Stan’s shoulder as he heads towards the door. “It really is such a shame. I loved you like a brother. But you know what they say, don’t you?” He places his hand on the door, and glances back towards him. “The good ones always die young”

Before Stan has time to respond, Rico slips his fake smile back on and opens the door. “Happy birthday, my friend,” he says, slipping back into English and speaking loud enough for the officer waiting outside to hear. “I hope you enjoy your cake”

Stan swallows, defensively bringing his hands to his throat, before he carefully inspects the cake in front of him. It looks normal, as far as he’s concerned, just a standard chocolate cake with “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STAN!” inked across its surface in bright red frosting.

He contemplates. On one hand, he hasn’t had any real food outside of the slop they’ve been feeding him here for the past three months, and he’s never been one to turn away free cake.

On the other, knowing Rico…

Stan shutters. He stands to his feet, takes the cake box, and throws the whole thing into the trash can in the corner of the room.

He’d rather starve to death than risk being poisoned.

~~~~~~

Stan stopped keeping track of his age the day he started going by his brother’s name.

Sure, it wasn’t even close to being the first time he had to live under a new name. You do it enough times and you’re able to come up with an entire life story at the drop of a hat. Stetson Pinefield was from Ohio, born in the fifties in late December. Andrew "Eight Ball" Alcatraz, born in Alabama in mid-May, got his nickname from his troubled childhood that resulted from his dad getting locked up when he was only eight. It was something of a specialty, giving life to people that never truly existed.

But suddenly, all at once, Stan was forced to overtake the life of someone he loved, and it’s like he forgot how to so much as breathe. This wasn’t some sob story he could bullshit to people he’d never see again, or a name he pulled out of his ass to keep him in place just a bit longer. This is his twin brother, someone he spent every moment of his childhood with, yet someone he feels as though he doesn’t know a thing about.

Sure, none of the people in this town can tell the difference between himself and Ford, and for that he’s grateful.  But a man can only pose as his possibly-dead brother for so long before somebody starts getting suspicious.  Ford’s lived in this town for over ten years, he’s bound to have been on good terms with somebody.

Oh well. He’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it. For now, all Stan needs to focus on is scamming enough people out of their wallets so he can pay off the bills and keep working on the portal that swallowed his brother whole, and those seem to be going…well, just about as smoothly as teaching yourself three years-worth of advanced multiverse physics when you never even graduated from high school can go, but at least he’s making process.

Turns out, there’s still one more flaw in Stan’s plan that even he should’ve been able to factor in.

As much of a recluse Ford advertised himself to be to the locals of Gravity Falls, it turns out that he always receives a call from home on his birthday.

The first year Stan spends in Gravity Falls, he debates letting the phone go to voice mail. He has no idea how in or out of character it would be for Ford to answer his phone, nor does he have any idea who could be calling at all.

Eventually, though, he figures it’d probably look even more suspicious if he doesn’t pick up, and Stan isn’t willing to risk anything, even if it means bullshitting his way through a phone call for the rest of the night.

He takes a deep breath, and with a shaky hand he picks up the phone.

“Stanford?” his mother says, and to say he’s overjoyed to hear her voice for the first time in years is a massive understatement.

“Ma?” Stan replies, struggling not to slip into his own voice. “Why are you calling?”

She cackles. “Well hello to you too, birthday boy. I’m starting to think all of that research is getting to your head. Can’t a mother call her son on his birthday?”

Stan blinks. Is it…really June already? “Is that today?”

She laughs again. “See? It is getting to you! Do your poor aging mother a favor and go outside and get some sunshine. It’ll be good for you!” She quips. “Or at the very least, please, take a break and go to bed early tonight, for me”

Stan smiles. “Okay, Ma. I will.”

“Good,” she replies matter-of-factly. “Now, tell me all about what it’s like up there on the West Coast. Is it unbearably hot over there? I can’t seem to find your little town on my map. Must be why it’s so spooky, since you’re the only living soul for miles.” She laughs again. “I’m kidding, dear. I’m sure it’s fantastic. Tell me everything.”

And all at once, it’s like Stan’s a kid again. Stan and his Ma talk on the phone for hours. He figures that Ford must not call very often, so he spews out anything that comes to mind in hopes that she doesn’t see right through him. She buys it, miraculously, and when they hang up at the end of the night Stan promises that he’ll try and call home more often.

It becomes an easy pattern for Stan to slip into as the years go by. Just as long as he calls frequently enough not to raise suspicion, he can always look forward to receiving a call on June 15th every year. Some tiny part of him feels selfish for posing as his brother and lying to his mother for so long, but it’s the most connected he’s felt to any sort of family in years.

Deep down, though, he knows he can’t get too comfortable, and there’s still too many loose ends he needs to tie up before he can let his guard down.

On June 5th, 1987, just before his thirty-third birthday, Stan Pines dies in a fiery car crash.

On June 7th, he just barely misses a call from home as he’s coming up from tinkering with the portal.

“Stanford”, his mother’s voice says, lacking any of the snarky bite it usually contains. “I know that you’re a very busy man with your research, and driving all the way back to New Jersey on such a short notice is…unfair of me to ask of you, but…” She pauses to take a shaky breath, like she’s struggling not to cry. “But something terrible happened to Stanley, and…” she pauses again. “We’re holding a service for him on the fifteenth. I know that things haven’t been great between you two the past few years, and I can’t imagine a funeral would be an ideal way to spend your birthday, but…It was the only date they had available, and it would really mean the world to all of us if you could attend. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. Call me as soon as you get this, okay? I love you.”

There’s a click, and she’s gone, and Stan contemplates his options.

Would Ford attend his funeral, if things were exactly the way it seemed? Would Ford even consider him worthy of the time? He’d said it himself: I want you to get as far away from me as possible. Would Ford be relieved that he was finally rid of him, like a weight off his shoulders?

Stan doesn’t even realize that he started crying until a tear drop lands on the counter beside the phone. Just how long has Ford been waiting to get rid of him, anyway?

No. Stan shakes those thoughts away. He can’t lose himself in those kinds of thoughts again. Every time he lets those thoughts get to him, bad things happen.

Besides…a funeral for, er, himself, may not be the most ideal way to spend his birthday, but finally being able to spend it at home for the first time in near decades, despite the circumstances, still beats slaving over an indecipherable journal in a dimly lit basement for twelve hours straight.

He takes a deep breath, and dials home.

“Hey, Ma”

~~~~~~~~

Ever since he turned eighteen, Stan found himself unable to celebrate his birthday without a sour taste in his mouth. As a kid, he looked forward to it more than anything. It was the one day a year that Pa would splurge and let him and Ford do whatever they wanted, and having a birthday in mid-June meant that there was only about a week of school left before they were free for the summer.

Most of all, it was about togetherness. Stan and Ford never had that many friends when they were growing up, so their shared birthdays were always about spending time together, because nobody else deserved to come to their party and celebrate with them anyways.

Once he was forced to spend his birthdays on the streets, Stan was starting to think that maybe he didn’t deserve it either.  Even when he did have people to celebrate with, whether that be his cellmates in prison or nameless gamblers in Vegas casinos, everything felt empty, and there isn’t enough cake or alcohol in this world that could’ve filled that void.

Those early summers in Gravity Falls were the worst years of his life. The calls from home were nice, sure, but his stomach flipped with nausea every time his mother called him Stanford. To no fault of her own, she made him feel as though her love was conditional, and that he wasn’t meeting any of the requirements.

He knows, of course, that it’s not true in the least, but Stan just wishes that wake-up call hadn’t come from attending his own funeral. Stan had gone in expecting to have a terrible time, but he really had thought that seeing his mother’s face for the first time in a decade would’ve cushioned that fall.

Turns out that it only made him feel worse, and he’d declared sometime later over a bottle of whiskey that his birthday must be cursed, and that he never wanted to celebrate it again.

~~~~~~~~

On June 15th, 2013, Stan wakes to the sound of a seagull screeching its head off outside his window. He groans, and sits up in bed to look out his window, but all that meets his eye is the vast sea. He looks then to his bedside clock, which reads 8:30am.

Grumbling to himself, Stan kicks off his covers and stands to his feet, because he knows if he tries to go back to sleep now he’ll be out cold until mid-afternoon. He ruffles through his clothing drawer and picks one of Mabel’s hand knit sweaters at random, because the Arctic doesn’t care what time of year it is when it comes to the weather.

Ford is already sitting out on a deck chair with a fishing rod when Stan steps out of his bedroom.

“Morning” Stan says as he approaches so as not to sneak up on his brother and spook him.

“Oh, good morning, Stanley” Ford smiles as Stan takes the seat beside him. “Did I wake you?”

“Unless you’re a screaming bird, then no” Stan rubs at his eyes. “How long you been up?”

Ford shrugs. “About an hour, hour and a half, I think? What time is it?”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “You sure you slept at all, Poindexter?” He holds three fingers mere inches from Ford’s face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Ford smacks his hand away. “Very funny, Stanley. I’ll have you know that I got a solid four and a half hours of sleep last night”

Stan cackles. “Woah, looks like we got a new record, folks” He stretches his arms in the air. “You make any coffee yet? I’m still not awake enough to deal with the cold”

“Oh,” Ford replies, like the question caught him off guard. He stands to his feet. “I must’ve completely forgotten” he says.

That reply does catch Stan off-guard.  Ford? Forgetting to make coffee? His practical lifeline? There must be something up.

Stan rises from his chair, frowning. “You sure you’re doing okay, Sixer?”

“Of course,” Ford replies, not turning back to look at him. “I’m just…tired, is all”

Okay, Ford knows that Stan can sniff out a lie from hundreds of miles away, so whatever it is that Ford is hiding from him must be really bad, because---

That train of thought leaves his head just as quickly as it had entered it the moment he steps foot into the kitchen. There’s a banner hanging up above the window that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY, and there are a handful of multicolored balloons scattered across the floor.

And right at the center of their table sits two cupcakes and two steaming cups of coffee.

“It was Mabel’s idea,” Ford finally turns to meet Stan’s eyes, smiling. “She called me last night to try and walk me through her cupcake recipe, but…” he rubs at the back of his head as he takes a seat at the table. “It turns out that baking isn’t quite my forte” He gestures to the seat across from him at the table. “So instead, when we were still docked last night, I snuck off board to hunt down a bakery”

Ford fiddles with the paper wrapper on his cupcake. “I know it’s not much, but…” he raises his cupcake in the air like he was making a toast. “Happy birthday”

Not much?

Not much?

This is winning the lottery compared to all the other birthdays Stan’s suffered through.

He takes the seat across from Ford, and raises his own cupcake to clink it against Ford’s.

“Happy birthday to you too, Poindexter”

[captain-cerrillo]

Operation Asteria

from x

“Hey loverboy,” Jackson Vance called mockingly from across the open space.

The biotics lit the darkened underground bunker around them, and Isaac turned off the parts of him that couldn’t focus when Eva was near. He wasn’t easily baited and slipped naturally into a familiar, lighthearted rhythm.

“You know, I can’t say I blame you, Cap. I’d abuse all of my power just to get to that sweet heat between her legs too.”

Max Townsend was one of Isaac’s best and oldest friends. He was also a seasoned N7 Destroyer. They’d been cooped up or deployed together for a cumulative total of at least ten years and had spent a fair amount of that time actively trying to kill each other. Which was helpful in a lot of ways generally, but Isaac was extra grateful for it now.

“Look at our girl.” Vance gestured to Eva who looked like she was quite literally fighting for her life and Isaac scrambled to push it all down. If anyone could survive a direct confrontation with two Asaris it could only be Eva. He hoped. “Fucking her way to the top.” Vance faked a sniffle. “I’m sort of proud.”

Isaac didn’t bother to explain the Alliance chain of command. Or how many other old soldiers were more impressive than him. The right arm of his armor frosted as the physical pneumonic of his hand gestures activated his suit’s cryo system to expel a flash freeze that sprayed out in a cone shape in front of him. It didn’t still the Destroyer, but it slowed the targeting mechanisms that his T5-V battlesuit’s VI used to lock onto threats long enough for the Paladin to roll into cover behind a half wall next to a row of terminals.

Isaac could hear the familiar grinding of the suit’s shoulder-mounted hawk missile launcher’s tiny gears as they struggled to shake off the freeze. Vance cursed and leveled his rifle. His armor glowed with a shaky red haze that told the Paladin he’d activated the suit’s devastator mode to boost his damage at the cost of movement. The choice confirmed Isaac’s suspicions that Vance was an idiot thug, not a seasoned soldier, because N7 Paladins were notoriously fast.

“Have you found that mole on her inner thigh? Right in that soft spot where her leg meets her hips. God she tastes so good there.” Vance intended to poke Isaac, but the Paladin didn’t spit back. Eva had a lot of fascinating beauty spots but the one on her chest, closest to her heart, was his favorite. He tried not to think of it.

Isaac popped out of cover, expecting the barrage of bullets to ripple against his suit’s shielding and adjusted his body weight accordingly. He stretched out another pneumonic, detonating the cryo explosion with a burst of fire from his other gauntlet. The plasma blast ate a decent chunk of Vance’s shielding but, again, he wasn’t stopped.

“We’ve got your boy. We’ve got your disc.” The Destroyer grunted as he expelled the heat sink from his rifle and reloaded with practiced speed. “And now we’re going to wipe you off the map before we leave.”

Vance fired a stream of armor-piercing rounds across the open space, chasing the Paladin as he rolled between cover to get closer before the Destroyer could move away. They collided in a show of smoke and fire as Isaac closed the distance only to tuck behind his omnishield when the suit’s shoulder rockets beeped their targeting confirmation. He waited for the ripple to subside and almost let up too early when a barrage of frag grenades shook the ground around him as he hunkered down.

A small piece of shrapnel from the edge of a metal storage crate at his back pierced his armor when one of the grenades rolled past him. He felt the familiar sting of a foreign object bite into his flesh as the scrap metal found a weak joint on the back of his armored knee as he crouched. He couldn’t help the painful yelp as his gloved fingers dug deep enough to pull it out. He threw the bloody piece on the ground, and it made a small jingling sound as it wobbled to a still stop.

“There we go. I knew you could bleed.” The venom in Vance’s voice was dripping. “Do you think Eva is bleeding right now?”

Isaac’s shield fizzled to nothing, and he leveled his pistol expecting the worst. The ringing sounds from the combo explosions and the smoke that filled the space around him were disorienting but he stayed steady on his feet. Isaac choked down the creeping fear at the thought of the Fury being caught in more than she could sustainably handle as every minute of the struggle stretched between them.

He rolled out of the way, just barely, before another rocket screamed by. It impacted another crate behind him that send shards flying. He ducked his back against a wall and popped his shield to spare another jab until the pieces clinked, falling onto the metal floor.

Isaac rolled out of cover, finding his feet lightly, straining his eyes and his suit’s telemetry as he searched for the Destroyer through the smoke. The spot behind his knee stung as the medigel sank in, knitting the raw wound beneath the tight fibers of his undersuit, but he wouldn’t let it affect his certain stride.

He knew he wouldn’t win the long game if Vance had enough ammo so he decided to close the distance. He tucked his pistol and his head, sprinting in a zig zag to delay the missile launcher’s targeting systems until he was close enough to swipe his shield with the full force of his rage of behind it.

The tech upgrades to his kit made a wall of flaming plasma between them and Vance screamed as the rifle fell from his hands to clatter on the floor. Isaac knew firsthand how the heat of the shield could make a man feel like he was going to boil to death in his own sweat. He knew firsthand the impossible weight of it as the tiny motors in his suit amplified his natural strength to unnatural levels.

Vance’s armored boots skidded across the floor and Isaac’s shield fizzled to nothing only for him to step forward and bash the Destroyer again, pinning him against the concrete wall under the weight of the suit and the shield. Isaac was grateful no one would see the way his teeth bared when he doubled down, intent to press the life from the idiot thug before he got another word out.

A cry that his bones recognized as Eva but his ears had never heard rang out in the distance. Isaac’s blood chilled.

“Sounds like they got her.” Vance sputtered, his hands grasping, gloved fingers clawing for purchase but meeting only chemical heat. “Better dead than yours.”

Isaac knew exactly how much pain he had to be in. He knew that if he didn’t move soon the fibers of the undersuit they both wore would begin to fuse with the younger man’s skin in all the hottest places. He knew what that smelled like. He wanted it. But he needed to back up Eva.

His shield fizzled to nothing, and Isaac stepped back to let the Destroyer crumple to his knees. The battlesuit sparked in several critical places and Isaac had a very good idea of the string of system notifications and warnings that the VI must have been spitting out over the Destroyer’s HUD.

“Old age has its benefits,” Isaac started. “Patience. Perspective.” He halfheartedly wondered if the man’s medigel delivery systems were still functional before he kicked him to the ground. “Experience.”

He grunted, a feral sound heavy with the weight of his fear and frustration as he slammed the shield down on the Destroyer’s armored shoulder. Vance howled, a blood curdling scream as the onmishield sliced through his broken battlesuit, biting a chunk out of the floor beneath him with the unyielding impact and cauterizing the wound at the same time.

“You’re an idiot and a thug. And you don’t deserve this stripe.” Isaac bent enough to make sure the Destroyer was watching as he lifted the armored limb that once belonged to Vance and threw it carelessly over his shoulder like he was packing for a trip.

Eva screamed again in the distance and Isaac had to go.

[oopsiedoopsie23]

The princess and the drummer | Rook x reader

A/N: Soooo I sort of drifted away from the prompt but I actually liked how this turned out so forgive me my loves. Also, wouldn’t mind doing a part 2 to this so let me know if ya want one <3

Prompt: Rumours spiral when the reader, a famous pop star, is spotted getting drum lessons from a certain drummer ;)

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea Y/N, you have press starting soon for your album and we really need to control what the press is saying about you before then, being there will do nothing but hurt your image right now.”

“Mhm...mhm...”

“Y/N are you even listening to me? I’m trying to save your image, you know?”

You sighed as you took another sip of your beer before putting your phone back to your ear.

“Look, all I’m doing is hanging out with my friends before their concert tonight, it’s fine, I don’t see how that could possibly end my career.”

“I’m not saying that this will end your career...”

“Perfect! So if it doesn’t end my career then I don’t give a shit.”

You end the phone call before quickly downing the rest of your beer.

“Damn girl who the fuck did you just kill?”

You turn around and see none other than your best friend himself, MGK, in what you like to call his prime element, joint in one hand, microphone in the other, wearing expensive clothes that he was definitely gonna strip off 5 minutes into his concert.

“What makes you think that I killed anybody?” you smirked as you took the joint out of his hand. “The fact that you just downed that beer and sounded like you wanted to shoot whoever you were on the phone with, in the balls.”

You laughed, almost choking on the smoke coming out of your lungs as you hand the joint back to him. “Trust me, I wanted to do a lot worse to that fucking idiot.” You roll your eyes, “My manager says that they’re the best publicist in this stupid ass industry, but they seem more like a fucking babysitter with a stick up their ass, to me.”

This time it was Colson’s turn to laugh. “C’mon dude forget that shit, you can keep us company during sound check.”

You nodded, accepting his invitation, following your best friend through the  venue’s small hallways and staircases leading to the stage.

“Damn Col, this is a dope ass venue.” you whistled, the venue was definitely smaller than you were used to but with all of the lights and screens set up, it created an atmosphere that felt almost euphoric.

“I know, it might not be one of the arenas that you perform at but this is something else.”

You turn around, ready to smack Colson for his slight dig at you when you hear another voice interrupt you,

“Hey sweetheart, heard you were about to kill someone over the phone earlier!”

“Rook...always the gentleman.” you smile as you take the beer from his hands.

The two of you stand in silence for a bit, admiring the venue and each taking small sips of your beers.

“Do you know how to play the drums?”

You almost spit out your mouthful of beer as you begin laughing.

Rook can’t help but join in as he watches you fall to the ground, clutching your stomach from laughing so hard. “What? You seem like the type of girl to kill someone in their sleep so you must play the drums at least a little bit.”

“I sing fucking pop music Rook, and what is it with everyone calling me a murderer today?”

“In my defence, your music gives off more of a ‘sweet but psycho’ vibe and not much of a ‘pop princess’ vibe.”

You watch as the drummer smiles wide, as if he’s about to laugh at his own joke, before stretching his hand outward slightly, like he’s offering you to take it.

“C’mon even pop stars can learn how to play the drums.”

You blush slightly as you take his hand, allowing him to lead you up another set of stairs that led to the drum set.

“So...this is my home.” you giggle as Rook picks up one of his drumsticks using it to point to each part of the drum, explaining what they do, you were so entranced by him and his passion for the instrument that it takes you a few minutes to notice that he was still gently holding onto your hand.

It isn’t until he leaves to grab more beer that he lets go of your hand. You can’t help but feel as if your hands miss the warmth and gentleness of his as you’re sitting in his seat holding his drumsticks, awaiting his return.

“Y’all motherfuckers need to get a room.”

You spin in the seat, glaring at your best friend who was leaning against the wall, seemingly watching you.

“First of all, you look creepy as fuck, second, you know that we’re just friends.”

Colson smirks at you before taking a sip of whatever poison he was drinking, “Then why were the two of you holding hands the whole time?”

You blush as you realize that you weren’t the only one that had noticed.

“Hey I got one for you too, in case you wanted one.” 

Rook carefully sets the beers on the ground before turning to you.

“What are you smiling about?”

“The fact that after this lesson, I’m gonna give you a run for your money.”

Rook laughs and you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat as you see how wholesome his smile is.

“Okay then, let’s see what the pop princess can do on the drums.” 

“I thought that I was more of a psycho than a princess?” you smirked

“Well it depends on how much you give me a run for my money, princess.”

You swear that you almost fall off of the chair at the nickname. Rook notices your slight surprise and takes the opportunity to stand behind you and wrap his arms around your shoulders so that he was able to put his hands around yours on the drumsticks.

Your breath hitches as you move your head up so that you were looking back into his eyes. 

You watch as his eyes slowly scan down your body, from your eyes to your lips, to your cleavage that you knew you were giving him a better view of, from your positions. You smirk as you take advantage of his surprise to grab the sides of his face, pulling him downwards so that both of your lips collided. 

You felt electricity go throughout your body. It was as if you could feel a spark buzzing throughout your body travelling from your lips to your feet. You felt his hands slightly graze over your hips and you try your hardest to hold back a moan.

“Hey Rook, if you’re done tongue fucking my friend can we do our sound check now?”

The two of you stop kissing and look down to see Colson smiling at the two of you, phone in hand, with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You were on such a high from your make out session with Rook that it took you a second to realize that Colson was filming the two of you. Rook immediately noticed you tense up and put his hand on the small of your back, trying to calm you down.

“Kells are you filming this shit?”

“Hell yeah dude, I’m live right now, I want to make sure that we have a video of this so we can play this shit at your fucking wedding!”

You groan and put your head in your hands, knowing that Colson’s video of you and Rook was definitely going to cause an onslaught of articles written about the two of you. And just as you were about to reach for your beer, as if it was clockwork, your phone began buzzing like crazy.

You sighed looking back up at Rook, who was still looking down at you, watching you with worried eyes, with his hand on your back.

“It’s all over the websites isn’t it?”

“You bet your ass it is! What in God’s name were you thinking? You’re a pop star for fuck’s sake not some groupie! I told you that you should’ve just stayed home! I knew that you were gonna do something to mess all of our hard work up!”

You didn’t know if it was the fact that you were 2 or 3 beers in, or if it was the fact that you still felt a buzz of electricity coursing through your veins but you had enough of this bullshit publicist and were ready to actually put them through a fucking grave like everyone thought you would.

You stood up, grabbing your beer, holding your finger up to Rook, signalling for him to give you a minute before walking away slightly so that you were behind a wall, safe from prying eyes and Colson’s drunk livestream.

“Listen up you little shit, I’m sick and tired of you thinking that I will do whatever the fuck that you say, and treating me like I’m some precious pop star. When you said ‘our’ hard work I think that you misspoke because the only work that’s been done is me working my ass off, making music that I don’t even like and pretending to be someone that I’m not!”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that from now on, I’m gonna do the shit that I want, not giving a fuck about what the press will say in the stupid fucking interviews and...you’re fired.”

“Wha-”

“Tell my manager to find me a better fucking publicist.”

You end the call, before leaning against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

“Should I call the police to report a murder?”

You look to your side and see Rook looking at you with worried eyes.

“I think that I might have to throw away my phone to get rid of the evidence.” 

Rook chuckles before stepping in front of you and taking both of your hands in his. “You know, we never really got to finish our drum lessons.”

“So does that make me a psycho or a princess?”

“I don’t know I haven’t decided yet...I think that we need to finish where we left off first, to help me make a decision.”

You roll your eyes as the two of you connect lips once again, reigniting the sparks that were flying.

“You do know that all of the fucking websites are going to be saying that you were making out with some mystery drummer right?”

You can’t help but burst out laughing, as you wrap your arms around his neck,

“The princess and the drummer...I like the sound of that.”

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

Let me know if you want a part 2 my loves :)

[rosy-cheekx]

Heat Without Warmth, Light Without Sight

This fic is for the @tma-valentines-exchange and was written for @barnabasbennett (pretty sure, at least!) AO3 link is in the source! Based on the prompt: rewrite episode 159 to feature Tim and Archivist!Sasha.

I’ve been waiting SO LONG to post this! I hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter One: Embers

The archives are quiet. So quiet. Sasha can hear the tick of the clock on her desk and the hum of the radiator she had brought in so many months ago, back when her biggest concern was how cold her Archivist office was. Before the idea of heat reminded her of Tim in oh-so-many painful ways.

The Unknowing had been…bad. Daisy had been imprisoned in The Choke, Sasha left unconscious and Basira forever changed. She had seen it, she told Sasha later, the way Tim had stood amidst the rubble of plastic mannequins and brick and mortar, unscathed as smoke billowed into the sky, silhouetted in greys and blacks. It was terrifying, she said, in a completely different way than the Unknowing had been. Basira described Tim as unstoppable in that moment, a train bulleting towards destruction and revenge, a rage in his eyes that only intensified when he saw the unconscious form of Sasha James, bruised and lying in the rubble.

In Sasha’s six-month coma, she had missed a lot. Martin had explained things to her; a sad compassion in his eyes as he stirred sugar into tea. Tim had fallen to the Desolation, The Cult of The Lightless Flame calling him home after they had heard about his sudden resilience to heat and flame. It made sense. Tim had experienced so much loss and destruction in his life, losing Danny and Jon (and, temporarily, Sasha) due to the machinations of The Stranger. His connection to the Desolation had probably been growing when none of them, not even Tim, had noticed. Sasha tried reaching out to him; Tim was still employed by the Magnus Institute after all, but he was sullen at his desk, the air around him smelling faintly of burnt hair and the iced coffees he used to love now simmering slightly in his mug. Sasha didn’t think he could’ve been any more withdrawn than he had been in the ramp up to stopping the Stranger. But here he was, prickly and cold and altogether uninterested in Sasha’s attempts to reconnect with him.

Sasha unfolds the letter, singed at the corners. She must have just missed him. Again. Her heart pounds in her chest as she reads the words, written the slanted, neat print she knew so well.

Sasha,

If nothing else, I will miss you. But that loss is essential, Jude says, to feeding the spark that binds us all. They think Agnes Montague’s spark passed to me when I decided my loss of life was more important than the survival of The Stranger and their ritual. Something about total commitment to pain, self-destruction, etc. There is some satisfaction in knowing how unhappy they are about it, especially Jude. I think she really wanted to be special. You’d hate her. Maybe it’s cliché, but I don’t think I’m coming back from this. It all began, and it all must end. Who knows? Maybe I’ll finally be able to quit.

I    You are truly unforgettable, boss,

Tim.

Sasha had seen so many of the people she loved fall to the fears of this world in which they find themselves trapped. The loss of Jon had come first, when the thing that Was Certainly Not Jon had stolen him away under their noses. This discovery had come with the loss of the heart of their office: Martin. Realizing he had been in love with a lie had broken something in him, and while Sasha did her best to show him compassion, she couldn’t imagine going through it all in his place. The nature of Gertrude’s death had shocked her; Sasha had known her, had seen such a strong woman she had been. To see (or rather hear) her death reduced to a few cowardly gunshots felt…inadequate. Daisy had become softer after surviving the Buried, kinder to Sasha, but there the Hunt was still there, deep in her. Basira and Melanie were fine, but evasive, suspicious, too eager to wield a knife. And now?

Sasha had no friends, no one she could truly trust, no one left besides Tim. She hadn’t stopped trying to care for him, to make herself available, but she refused to keep her heart open for someone so clearly eager to move away from it all, even if that was motivated by a cult of fire and destruction and pain. But that love she had for Timothy Stoker was still there, the idiot who took her out for drinks and dressed up as her once for April Fool’s and had them all over for Guy Fawkes Day (should she had guessed it then, his eyes illuminated by the pyre, drinking in the light and heat of the flames?) and insisted he cook for everyone whenever he got the chance.

Eyes sweeping over the letter over and over, she read the words, trying to hear each of them in his voice, feeling something in her gut twist as she read her name is his handwriting, in his voice, over and over. Tim had said it so many ways: with mirth, frustration, exhaustion, and warmth. There was still so much left to say. There were so many more ways for him to say her name, and Sasha wanted to hear them all.

This letter? This would not be the last time he said her name. Sasha James, the Archivist, would make damn sure of that.

-

Sasha is hurrying through the Institute when she almost collides with Elias Bouchard. His hair is unkempt, shaggy from his time in prison, but he is dressed immaculately, black dress shirt rolled to his elbows and a tie that seemed to shimmer yellow-green when it catches the light.

“You-Elias, what the hell?” Sasha takes an involuntary step back, hand ghosting to the letter opener she had instinctively tucked into her waistband.

“Save the effort, Archivist. I’m only here to help, after all. My sources say Tim has left?”

“Sources?” Sasha spits the word, fingers resting against the mottled blue handle of the blade. “Please. There’s no need to hide what you are anymore, Elias.”

“Hmm, very well.” His fingers drum patiently on his jaw, one elbow elegantly balanced on the opposite wrist. He looks too calm, too relaxed for the anxiety and anger thrumming its way through Sasha’s chest. “So, you don’t want to know where he’s gone?” Fuck. Elias’s eyebrow arches expectantly, eyes staring past her as he focused on what she could now recognize as what she called the Knowledge.

“Elias Bouchard, t̶̡̟̲͓̩̜̣͕͇̟̱͉̹̽̋̑̑̅̊͒́̔̂͠ͅe̶̝͍̜̲̘̙̤̰̬̞͒͗l̴̛͕̜̟̟̰͑̿̎̎́͛͌̽̆͆̓̋̾l̴̟̤͚͉͔̼̄̈́̆̌̏̇͝ ̷͖̙̠͕̜̮̬̟̝̰̫͍̆ṁ̶̨̗̮͍̖͍͖̱̟̍̽͜͝e̴̗̩͒̈́͛̊̽́̿ ̷̧̨̡̦̻̙͎̬̪̞͕͙͖̓͂͂͂͂̊̔̊̕̚͜w̴͈̖̦̒̾̀̽͑̓̑̎̂̇͗̂͒ḩ̸̩̺͎̤̳̰̘̱̣̍ę̵̫͚̖́̇͜r̷̢̘͍̣͚̠͚̫̦̭͌ͅͅͅẻ̵͓͖̆̀̒ ̵͇͕̱̬̻̖͔̲͇͇͊̓͊́̽̍̋̓̈́̎̿̆̕͘͝h̷̨̡̧̨̻̝̲̱̬̻͙̻͋́͒̈͆͛͛̒͂̉̈́̎͜e̴̡̪͓̘̳͇͙̪̠̳͈͔̳͕͗̓̉̎ ̵̢̡̟͍̬͖͔͎̹͇̞͗̓́́i̶̲̬̰͙̖̘̮̠̘̜̙̗̍̈́̀̌̔͌̊͋́̍͌̑̚͝s̶̞̱̥͚̽̔̏͠͝.”

Her voice echoes with persuasion, the smooth words rolling off her tongue before she could consider it. Elias sighs, seeming almost tired with her. “He’s in the Desolation.” Elias sighs, seeming almost tired with her. “Honestly, Sasha, I would have told you without you needing to ask like that.”

She tunes him out, her own Knowing searching for Tim and landing her only with a burning inside her skull. She hisses her pain through her teeth and focuses back on Elias, who seems almost amused.

God, what a bastard. “Ȟ̶̡̱͈̖̱̱̱̤̮̖̳̬̆̿͐͛̾́͗͠͝͝ͅͅo̷̡͎̙̓͗̋̂͊̏̏̅̚͘͝ẅ̶̢̨̧̝̖͚̦̱̟̹̼͕͌͌͌̋̒̆͑̈́̓͛͠ ̶̱̩̜̖̫̼̰̐d̴̢͈͍̗̱̀̉̽͋o̷̢̡̫͈̼̺̹̩̥͕͕͘̕ ̵̢̭̦͍̬͖̪̹͍̬̝͝I̶͕̥̱̤̽̿̃̃̂͐̔͒̒̇̆͗̚̕ ̴̛̞̜̘̥͓̙̗̫̰̙̼̝̀͗͋̊́̕ḡ̴͈͈̗̜̦̇͐̏̿̾̅́̆̎̂̊̕͠e̷̡̡̲̘̞̟̤̗͓̺̱̣̘͐̆̈́̔̎̃͋́ṯ̶̨̺̜̪̺̼̼̟̽̽̍̾̊́͊́̒̕͘ ̵̢͔̟͈̘͚̫̩̭͑̃͘ͅt̸̪̊͛̽̀͒h̴̘̫̖̤̜͕̻̺̯̼̦̟͔̋̍̋̈̌̃͐̈́̍̋e̶̢̛͚͉͕͓̪̖̘͖͇͇̫̲͉̐̀̈́̋̄̃̆̽̃̍͊̓ͅr̵̨͍͖̜͕͈̱̤̤̭͈̳̯̜͈̆͒̾̎̓̓̀̐̈̀̂̉̕͠e̴̦̱̺͓̝͕̥͔̮̓͐͛̚?̸̛̝̞̦͈̦̿͐͌̂̌̆͂̆̔̋͗͒̊”

“Honestly, Sasha, you’re wearing yourself out. Timothy and Jude just left. They were in the library; I’m sure you can follow them. Let your mind follow theirs. Find the right string, if the Mother will pardon my analogy, and pull it. I’m sure they left the door open for you.” He winks, as if enjoying a private joke, and turns on a polished leather shoe, striding towards the Archives with purpose.

Sasha redirects her course and hurries to the library. Is this a trap? Almost definitely. But honestly, she doesn’t care. Rosie, head of the institute while Elias had been “previously occupied," had been the last to leave the Institute, Sasha Knew as she ran, clocking out at 18:02. The librarians and assistants were gone. It was just her. Well, she and Elias, certainly. She was already a pawn in this fourteen-way game of chess; she may as well take down some bishops if this was going to be her end. She has never met Jude Perry, but Tim was right about one thing: she certainly already hated her.

-

In the library, Sasha halts in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of her. The heat is excruciating on her cheeks as she sees a blazed trail of singed books, paper, and manuscripts. The burning in her face and soul is caused not by any fire, but by the sheer anger that someone dared mar her memories of this library, where she had met so many of the people she loves. Loved. No, loves, she decided with certainty. Jon is gone, the true memory of him lost to everything but the errant polaroid, Martin is all but gone, a shell of the warm man they had known, and Tim is just out of reach. But despite all this, maybe in sheer spite of everything they’ve been through, Sasha still present-tense loves each of them.

It is that love, she thinks, that guides her now, more so than the omniscient Eye that paves her way to the Desolation, the scar on reality widening and opening for her before it swallows her whole, the library crumbling into ash around her.

One way or another, she was going to end this.

[babiesdreams]

Superhuman +18 Chapter 1

Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, smoking, mentions of suicide, gore(?.

Renjun’s story:

She came to me when I was just sixteen. I knew something was wrong with me since a long time ago, but her presence made it worse. She always makes feelings much more intense and pure... It’s really hard to leave feelings aside.

You know my... powers are related to feelings, the purest feelings are the strongest power source. I’m basically a generator. Anger and sadness are usually the best ones.  

I finally got out of my home, I was gonna start a new life, a new stable and normal life. For once I wouldn’t be judged for being too shy, or not letting my feelings in, or for being “a psychopath” 

But then she passed by, offered me a cigarrette and whispered how she knew everything. I felt like my whole life plan ended right there, but she was right. If I simply ignore my abilities I’m only making it worse, I had to learn more about them, and use them in my own advantage. I needed to know how to properly control it before getting into another messy life, before hurting anyone else, so she was a savior at the time.

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“You have to meet them” 972 shouted at me. “I don’t want to, we can just go as a duo” I screamed back. “Huang Renjun, your anger levels aren’t under control, please relax, or I’ll have to call security” 

“I don’t want others to get involved with me” A soft wave moves the air around me, as I start getting more and more angry. “You know what happened” 

“Huang Renjun, control yourself or I might take action” 972 kept her angry tone, making it worse. “Let me go alone on the mission” My eyes fire up with anger, feeling how my power grows inside of me. “Stop. Now” She demands, making everything worse. 

A big explosive wave brushes the whole place, destroying everything on its way. I fall on my knees, crying for what I just did. “I can’t have a team, I’m a monster, I’ll fuck everything up” I shout with a broken voice tone. For a moment I thought she was dead, but then her voice sounded in the distance.

“We all are monsters here” Her voice whispers as her hand rests on my shoulder. “We... all... are” She whispers with a sad tone.

Shotaro’s story:

Since I was born, the weather changed along with my mood, if I cried, it would start raining. If I was angry, it would turn into a thunderstorm. I think you get it. The thing is that at first I was quite good at controlling my mood, but growing up made it harder and harder, to a point that I couldn’t control anything about it. I got scared of feeling, and isolated myself for months, but that only made it worse.

When I got in here, I wanted to learn how to destroy my powers, ended up knowing how to control them. Now it’s not at all linked to emotions, more like I have full control over the weather, I can change it as I want. 

I was known for being the best at controlling my powers and even if they’re not the most powerful ones I think my ability to control them made me stronger, that’s how I ended up being the leader.

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“Guys you need to practice more” I say calmly. “Why would we practice? we are quite strong” Jisung says, not taking his eyes off the screen as he plays some stupid videogame. “It doesn’t matter how strong you are if you can’t control it” I say calmly, trying to make them understand. “You’re just jealous of our powers” Jaemin spits out, taking another chip into his mouth.

“You all are bombs, uncontrollable bombs, that’s not useful at all. Sure you’re powerful, but you’re basically dangerous for everyone” I say with a more serious tone. “Should I make him think we are training?” Chenle asks to the rest. “I heard you” I tell him.

But all the mess calms down when Renjun stands up. “Let’s go train, he’s right” He says with a serious voice and everyone follows. I sigh, feeling useless in comparison to his natural leader abilities, but yet glad that he helped me with it. 

Jaemin’s story: healing body (His fluids heal any harm)

I realized when I was a kid, I used to cry whenever I got hurt and then everything was fine. It got more intense when I kinda saved my mother.

I was holding her hand, focused on the beats produced by some machine. The sudden beep, made me anxious. I didn’t really know what to do, I panicked and started crying and when I realized she was fine again. 

With time and some exploring I realized it wasn’t only my tears that healed people, but all my fluids. Someone could be dying and if I licked his hand, they’d be completely fine. It feels like a lot of responsability tho, you never know the story behind someone dying.

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

The agonizing man starts choking on his own blood, trying to breath, yet unable to do so. I roll his body, getting him to rest on one side, to stop him from choking. I take his bloody hand and lick his index finger. 

Seconds later, the blood stops coming out from his mouth, and the cuts on the man’s stomach dissappear. “What did you do?” He says with a low voice tone. I look at him challenging, sometimes people really are ungrateful. “I just saved your life” I reply, proud of myself.

“Nobody asked you to do so” He shouts at me. “S-sir, I saved your life” I say stuttering. “They are gonna get my family if I don’t die you idiot” He shouts at me. I step back, scared of his words, letting tears fall down my cheeks. “I-I didn’t, I didn’t know that” 

That’s where I discovered that saving a life sometimes mean killing others. Butterfly effect. Maybe someday I could have saved a serial killer and then how many deaths would I be responsible for? I needed to learn that I can’t save everyone and sometimes I need to let people die. 

Jeno’s story:

I was an average student when I found out. Well actually I was a pretty stupid teenager. Classes were boring so I just went around with my friends, play games, and live life I guess. One day I saw soe students bullying a transfered kid, and I got into the fight.

I have always been pretty strong, so fights were an easy task for me. However those kids were much older than me, and I was alone. So they basically beated me up, until I did it. I don’t even know how I did it, I was just angry.

Trash from bins started floating, making people concern as to what was happening. I’ve heard my eyes turn red whenever I use my abilities so that might have helped to make them fear me. But after that day I became the school’s king.

Being at that place I started to hating my powers. I just wanted to feel normal, to be normal. But I guess that’s something none of us can really achieve. So I just kept training my brain and try to be better.

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

“Get out of the way” I say to Jaemin. The scared boy gets behind me, making me feel his shaking hands on my back. “So you want to die sir?” I say, looking at him with a fierce look. The man nodded, so sure of his decision, and I smiled at him.

“Have a nice trip” I say, while concentrating on the knife resting on the floor a few meters away. I held the knife mentally in front of him, pointing at his neck. “Do it” He says, crying desperately. “Look away” I whisper to Jaemin, before tearing his throat open. My figure gets covered by the man’s blood, while he dies slowly in front of my eyes. 

I throw the knife a few meters away, still not touching it for a split second. “It’s done” I say lowly, turning around to face Jaemin. My bloody hands hold his face, trying to calm him down. My fingers clean his tears, replacing them with blood.  “It’s fine” I whisper, letting him hug me tightly. 

The bloody scenario felt specially creepy under the moonlight, so I understand how Jaemin felt so guilty about everything. Still, he needed to grow up for future missions.

Jisung’s story: 

I remember looking up to superheroes like Spiderman or Hulk, or Superman. But being super strong isn’t exactly the best. Plus people don’t trust me when I say I’m strong. Of course, I tried to hide it, since all heroes in movies do that. But, it felt wrong somehow... Letting people take advantage of weaker people. Even letting people take advantage of me. 

So I decided to go anonymously, that way nobody would know who I was. But, again, nobody took me seriously. My family was also not doing so good, so I got into some illegal businesses. 

A guy decided to trust me and I started getting into street fights. I won money thanks to people’s bets. It wasn’t the best job, but at least I had something, and I stayed anonymous so they couldn’t interfere in my normal life. 

However I started to get tired of it and I stopped going there. I didn’t expect them to find me so fast.

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

“We had a contract” The old man says. I couldn’t stop trembling from fear. “Put the gun away” A woman’s voice says from behing the old man. He turns around, to find out how his bodyguards were already dead on the floor. 

The gun the man was holding started melting in his hand. “W-what are you?” He asked stuttering. The girl chuckled, and inmediately after a hole appeared where the man was standing, making him fall. His fingers held the floor, to stop himself from falling helplessly. 

“Hi, Park Jisung , I’m 972, I would like to recruit you into our team. What do you say?” Her eyes were fiercer than any eyes that ever looked at me, kinda hypnoticing. The grunts of the old man resonated all over the room, but they eventually stopped when she stepped on his fingers, breaking them with her heels. The fall was slow and long, ending with a disgusting sound, as the old man reached the floor somewhere at the bottom of the hole.

“I’m interested” I finally say, shaking the smiling girl’s hand.

Chenle’s story: 

Changing people’s percception is so funny. I can literally get away from every situation. I’ve never got punished for anything at all. Plus I can do whatever I want, no limits, no judgements. 

Sure, sometimes I don’t quite control what they are seeing instead of what I’m doing, like that time I was borrowing some clothes from a shop and people were seeing me pee on the clothes. I got arrested anyway. But I know how to use my power, that’s why I think training is stupid. 

We are basically gods, our powers’ limits are barely there, so let’s just have fun right? right?

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

“Let jun take care of this” 972 says, making all of us stay aside. I turn to look at Jaemin and Jisung, changing their perception so that they would see everything going fine, but I looked.

A loud sound scared all of us, and the buildings around the zone he was in started falling apart, getting reduced to ashes. People’s screams were really horrifying, something I will never be able to forget. And a loud growl from Renjun followed, filling the air with anger. “W-what happened?” Jaemin asked confused. 

“You have some work to do hyung” I told him, letting him finally see what really happened. He fell on his knees seeing all the victims from Jun’s powers. “You think you can do it?” I ask him doubting the limits of his abilities. 

“I can” His voice was shaky but I trusted 972′s plan. “Zhong Chenle get the living victims and make them think nothing happened. I’ll get the buildings back to normal. Lee Jeno, find the enemy’s body and bring it here. Remember, no fingertips on anything. Osaki Shotaro and Jung Sungchan get Na Jaemin to the victims. Park Jisung, you stay here in case I need protection” She ordered, while the buildings started getting back to normal. 

“On our way” We all shouted at the same time. It was something chaotic, but it worked out. “Now I’m gonna get an agent from unit V. Thanks for your collaboration, Unit D. You can all go now” 

Missions are always like that, cold-hearted and all about “Getting the job done”

Sungchan’s story:

I touched my grandma’s old clock. And I saw my grandfather, when he was younger, fighting in war, leaving home, giving her the clock. Everything happened in front of my eyes so fastly, I couldn’t really...

It took me a really long time to really get used to it. And when I did I hated the feeling. I wore gloves everywhere, so that I wouldn’t touch nothing directly. But avoiding it made it worse. Much worse. Because when it happened accidentally I could see more than what I normally would have.

The thing is that I thought my powers were more of an inconvenience than something useful. Until my father got that complicated case about a “Suicide” I touched the letter she wrote, and the chair he got over to hang herself up. Except it didn’t happen like that. 

Someone else wrote the letter and she was forced to stand on the chair that the man kicked, making her die instantly. I told my father my theory, and they got enough proof to take the responsible man. That’s when I felt like a hero. I thought I found my future profession as a detective.

I read all Sherlock Holmes books, idolizing what he did, wanting to be just like him, and now I have my chance.

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

I touched her face, and I saw everything she went through, who she really was. 

“Jung Sungchan, we talked about this didn’t we?” She says calmly. I nod, recalling her words about not touching her, probably to avoid me knowing her secrets. “We all have secrets here, we need to help each other okay?” I nod once again, and watch as her figure gets lost in the distance, still trying to process the information.

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Masterlist –requests open– How to request?  Check out your score.

Check superhuman series in here

[fairlyspnfanfic]

The Secrets We Keep - Part 4

Part One   Part Two  Part Three

I could feel his footsteps behind me, following me into the building in silence.  I kept my eyes ahead of me, focused on the destination that I had in mind.  Walking past the blackjack tables, I could see Dean laying his initial bet down.  His eyes flashed up at me with a smile playing at the corners of his lips.  Holding my hand up to my mouth, I mimicked drinking from a glass and pointed to the bar. He nodded quickly before looking back down at the table in front of him as the dealer began setting down the hands for the round.

All the barstools were empty save for one.  A man in a disheveled brown suit sat in one of the stools looking burned out.  I grabbed a seat at the other end of the bar and waited for the bartender to come over to me.  Sam still stood behind me with a few feet between us.  

“What can I get you?” The bartender was fairly young, maybe in his mid-twenties, with short brown hair and a smile on his face that seemed authentic enough.  I gave him a smile in return and ordered.

“I’ll take a Tin Cup. Thanks.”  

“Coming right up.”  He turned around and set to work pouring just enough whiskey, lime juice and ginger beer into the shaker.  A few seconds later, my glass sat in front of me, full to the brim. I quickly grabbed it and put it to my lips, savoring the taste.  

Sam sat down on the stool next to me, his pensive expression fixed on my face, but he said nothing. My drink was halfway gone, and he had yet to stop staring at me.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Sam, what?” I snapped as I turned my head quickly to face him.  He looked almost shocked.  

“You’re mad.”

“Thanks, captain states-the-obvious.”  I turned back to look at the TV screen behind the bar and finished off my beverage.  

“What can I do?” He asked. “How do I fix this?”

I slammed my fist down onto the bar and made eye contact with the bartender. “I’m going to need something a lot stronger than this.”  He nodded at me with a chuckle as he set to mixing a Long Island Iced tea.  

Sam sat silently, letting his questions linger in the air as I gulped my alcoholic tea.  “We’re gonna have to keep these coming,” I nodded to the bartender who accepted my order as I slid my credit card across the bar top.

“I don’t know that you can, Sam.”  I answered tersely.  His expression turned from intent to surprised, if not hurt.  “Do you really want to?”  

“Of course I do, Y/N. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”  I stared at him blankly, attempting to digest the words he’d said.  

“Sam,” I began.  I pulled another mouthful of from my glass before finding the confidence to continue.  “You’ve made your opinion of me pretty clear.  You said everything you said and followed it up with four months of silence. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘I’m interested’ if you know what I mean.”  I tapped my now empty glass which was almost immediately replaced with an identical one.

“That’s not fair, Y/N.” Sam stated defensively.  “You never reached out to me either.  The phone works both ways.”  His eyebrows were stressed as he stared at me.  

“What was there to say?” My voice rose as did my indignation.  “You told me you were out!  You were done with me.  Why would I ever reach out after that?”

 “I don’t know,” he began to get incredulous. “Maybe to apologize?”

I choked on my drink and stopped just short of spitting it out across the bar.  

My eyes were open as wide as they physically could be and I stared at Sam’s face, waiting for the realization to hit him that he was in fact being an idiot.  

I threw back the remaining half of my drink before asking the bartender to close out my tab.  

“Where are you going?” Sam asked as I stood up and waited for my card back.

“Does it matter?” I bit back at him. “You’re done chasing me, right?  You’ve been done with me for months so why the hell should you care now?” I shoved my credit card back into my wallet and shoved it down into my pocket before turning on my heel.  My eyes searched for Dean in the sea of gamblers and smoke that had accumulated since I walked in.

“Dude, you’re super screwed.” I heard the bartender begin to chastise Sam as I walked away.

I quickly made my way out of the large gambling area and found the front entrance.  Pulling out my phone, I quickly ordered a ride to pick me up. I had an 8-minute wait that seemed like it was going to take a lifetime. I quickly scrolled through my contacts list before stopping on the one that I needed.

“Hey, it’s me.  I need a job.  What do you got?”  

“Y/N?  Are you nuts?  You just got back home.  Don’t you want a few days to recoup? I thought you had to work if nothing else?” Garth’s concern was tangible even over the phone.

“I’ve got vacation time and I need to get out of here.”

“They’re there, aren’t they?”

I rolled my eyes.  “Garth, please,” I begged as my voice cracked.

I listened to him sigh. “I’m gonna regret this.  Just texted you the details.”

A smile found its way to my face. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”  

“Remind me of that after Sam pummels me.”

I ended the call and pulled up the message he had sent.  Demon signs were identified just a few hours west.  He had included the phone number of the local hunter on the job and the address to meet them at.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice came up behind me.  “What’s going on?”  

I lowered my head as I put my hands into my back pockets before looking back up at him.  “It was worth a shot, Dean.”  

He looked at me, confused, with his arms out to the sides. “You’re leaving?  What the hell happened?”

I shook my head and tucked my hair behind my ears.  “Nothing happened.” I chuckled sadly.  “Same as always.”  

Dean turned his head to look behind him before turning back to face me.  “We didn’t even get to have lunch.”  

I stood on my tip toes and placed a swift kiss on his cheek.  “Maybe next time.” I smiled at him. “You know where to find me.”  I heard a car pull up behind me.

“You Y/N?” the driver shouted from the window.  I nodded in response before I turned and opened the rear passenger side door.  I quickly took my seat and fastened my seatbelt. Looking out my open window, I made eye contact with Dean.  

“Y/N…” he began. “Don’t go.” There was a desperation in his voice that his expression tried desperately to hide.  I waved at him silently and the car pulled away.  

Part 5 

Tagging from previous like-age:

@vicmc624​@waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy​ @carissime72​ @deans-baby-momma​ @formulafun​ @woodworthti666​ @yetanotherreader​ @crashlyrose​ @hobby27​ @gabby913​ @jxackles​ @polina-93​@supernaturaladdictsblog  @fandomoverdose666​ @deans-baby-momma​ @deanwanddamons​ @tazzi-baby​ @acertainhero

[magniloquent-raven]

so, uh, this fic is inspired by this post. cuz @bambixxblue tagged it as billy/steve and the idea lodged itself in my brain. so here y’all go, pls enjoy

----

Valentine’s Day was a month ago. Steve had, on a whim, bought a box of chocolates. The heart-shaped box kind. It was a deep shade of red, and, because he wasn’t drunk when he bought it, the least frilly one he could find. 

It was a completely normal thing to do in early February. Especially for a guy like Steve. He might have been dethroned and dumped for the school creep but he was still rich and good-looking, people expected him to be putting himself out there. It had been months since he and Nancy broke up, enough time for him to have moved on. 

And he had. Moved on. Hence the Valentine’s Day gift. 

He was sweaty and anxious the whole time he was in the store, worried that someone might look at him and just know. Know who the chocolates were for. 

No one did, because it was a dumb thing to worry about, but he still left with his heart in his throat and his palms sweating through his gloves. 

He drove home a little faster than normal that day, and his hands shook as he unlocked the front door. 

Once Steve got inside he stared at the bag in his hand. Stared at it, and...god, this was such a stupid idea. This was the kind of shit he did for girls he liked, back before Nancy. He could just walk up to them in the cafeteria and their friends would giggle and blush and it was all so easy, but this...

He couldn’t do that with Billy. Nothing about this situation was easy. 

The chocolates ended up shoved in Steve’s sock drawer, and he spent the next month trying to forget the whole thing. 

Which is hard because he and Billy are friends now. At first it was a silent truce. A shared cig here and there while they were waiting for the kids. Then there was Billy’s muttered apology, and Steve’s tentative forgiveness. 

Then suddenly Billy was everywhere, and Steve...well, Steve apparently hadn’t learned much from getting his heart broken before because he fell hard. Again. 

So now they’re hanging out in Steve’s back yard sharing a blunt and he’s trying really hard not to think about how his mouth is touching something that Billy’s mouth also touched because he’s apparently been transformed into a twelve-year-old who’s never been kissed and gets worked up about shit like that. 

It’s, frankly, very embarrassing. 

“—and I told her, it wasn’t happening, but—” Billy’s rambling about something, smoke trailing from his lips, and Steve isn’t hearing a single word. “—Harrington?” Steve blinks a couple times. Refocuses. “You with me, man?”

“Um.”

Billy snorts, “Yeah, didn’t think so.” He’s grinning though, slow and lazy. He only smiles like that when he’s high, like he’s shed a couple layers of whatever keeps him wound so tight when he’s sober. “S’cool.”

“So, uh, what were you...?” Steve rubs the back of his neck, sheepish, and looks away. It’s easier to listen to Billy when he isn’t looking at him. His face is...distracting. His everything is distracting, actually.

“Ugh, fuckin’ Amy. Chick won’t leave me alone. It’s annoying.”

Right. Billy’s endless line of suitors. Steve’s favourite thing to talk about. He shrugs in a way he hopes is noncommittal. “She’s cute though.” He glances at Billy, who’s wrinkling his nose. 

“Why don’t you date her then,” he grumbles. 

“I did. Sort of. Sophomore year I bought her flowers for Valentine’s Day and then we hooked up a couple times.” He immediately regrets bringing it up. It reminds him of the aborted Valentine’s Day gesture stuffed in his dresser. Thinking about it ever is awkward, but doubly so when Billy’s sitting right next to him.

“Right, forgot you used to do that stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Girls.”

Steve chokes on his spit. “You’re an asshole,” he coughs, while Billy cackles at him and pats his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Billy hums. His expression settles into something more pensive. “You didn’t do anything this year though. You’re not still hung up on Wheeler are you?”

“No!” he says it too quickly, too vehemently. Billy raises his eyebrows. “I mean—I—I’m not. I was gonna do something but—” Steve’s whole face feels like it’s on fire and he bites his tongue. Literally. He clenches his jaw to keep any more words from coming out. Billy’s hand is still on his shoulder and it feels like a lead weight. 

“Oh yeah?” His voice is light but Steve can feel Billy’s fingers tighten on his sleeve, clutching at his shoulder. Steve’s brain goes a little fuzzy. “Why didn’t you?”

He cannot have this conversation. He can’t. It shouldn’t happen. He repeats it, in his head, panicking and anxious, guts in a knot, but the words slip out anyway. “No point. It...wouldn’t have gone over well.”

“Come on, King Steve’s afraid of a little rejection now?” 

Yes. Terrified. 

Maybe it’s the weed making him stupid. Or maybe he just wasn’t that bright to begin with. Or maybe monster hunting has made him reckless even in the face of fear, because he stands then, tells Billy to wait and walks into the house.

His body feels numb. There’s nothing but the roar of his heartbeat and a sick, anxious twist in his stomach.

The box is a little squashed. There’s a crease in the cardboard lid, a jagged line across the length of it. 

It feels like he’s barely had time to blink before he’s in his back yard again, looking down at Billy. He’s sitting on one of the lounge chairs, blinking at Steve. His button-up is askew, hanging off to one side and half unbuttoned, his eyes are a little bloodshot, his hair is tangled from the breeze, and Steve’s never seen anyone more beautiful. 

He drops the box in Billy’s lap.

“There’s no note or anything. I...didn’t think I’d actually...It’s been sitting in my sock drawer for a month because I was too chickenshit to tell you that I—anyway, that’s for you. It’s for you, ok? And that’s why I didn’t do anything for Valentine’s Day, because I’ve liked you for months and I knew it was stupid to do anything about it, but, well, no one’s ever accused me of being smart.” Steve lets out shaky breath that’s half sigh, half self-deprecating laugh. He feels like he’s about to shake apart, he’s trembling so hard. 

Billy hasn’t said anything. He’s staring at the box in his lap, putting his hands around it real careful like he’s afraid to break it. Or afraid it’s going to explode. Honestly, Steve can’t read how he’s feeling about the whole thing but he’s bracing himself for the worst when Billy finally looks at him, wide-eyed. “You...I...” he trails off, then shakes his head, laughing. 

And...it’s not the worst thing that could have happened. But it still hurts. Steve’s getting ready to bail so he can cry himself to sleep when Billy stands up, a weird look in his eye. “Wait here,” he says, and walks off. Which. What.

Forty-five excruciatingly long seconds later Steve—who hasn’t moved, can’t, he’s panicked and frozen—feels a hand on his shoulder.

Billy’s back, and...

He shoves something crumpled and pink into Steve’s hands. 

“That’s been in the glove box of my car for a month.” It shows. The edges are bent and there’s a split up one side of the lid. There’s a bow on it, squished beyond saving, with a little card hanging off it that says pretty boy in smudged ink. “Couldn’t keep in in the house ‘cause I got drunk and fuckin’ wrote on it, like an idiot,” Billy’s fidgeting with his hands, not looking at Steve.

He looks nervous, even though Steve was the one who brought this shit up in the first place, even though Billy already knows Steve has feelings for him. Even though Billy Hargrove never gets nervous. 

Steve’s heart is so full it hurts. “I kind of love you,” he blurts, too loud and extremely unsmooth. He can’t feel embarrassed about it though, because Billy finally looks at him and the look on his face takes Steve’s breath away. 

He’s got this tiny little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes are wide and wet and hopeful, and who gave him the right to have eyes that blue, and his freckles—

Billy’s standing a lot closer than he was before, and Steve’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breathe entirely by this point. Which is fine, because he can feel Billy’s hand sliding across the back of his neck, threading through his hair, and if this is how he dies then so be it. 

And then Billy presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek, to his nose, his forehead, so softly, cradling his face like it’s something precious and Steve is so happy he could cry. 

“Oh,” he breathes, quiet, afraid to break the moment. 

Steve can feel Billy’s smile again his cheek, “Yeah,” he says, breath hot in Steve’s ear.

He doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t need to. Steve pulls him close and kisses him soundly and he knows he’s loved too.

[louiserandom]

inappropriately hot

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: T

Summary: “HASHIRAMA,” he roars, “HOLY FUCK!”

“Madara?" Hashirama says, unusually calm as he sits on his desk amid mountains of paperwork like the childish idiot that he is. "What’s wrong, are we under attack?”

Glaring at his confused-looking best friend, Madara lets out what’s been bothering him for the past two excruciating months.

“WHY THE FUCK IS YOUR BROTHER SO HOT?!”

For: @kaiyaru and @sleepysenseis the awesome enablers💙💜

Read on AO3 or under the cut! (also feel free to join the Founders Era discord where the madness happens :D)

Ko-fi and fic commission info in the header :3

Madara is in pain.

His life is in shambles.

Reality falls away into a mesh of confusion and indignation as his morning, which had started so well, with delicious inarizushi and a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Tōka about the merits of their favorite murder weaponsーthe ideal morning comes crashing down as Tobirama godsdamned Senju walks past him on the street, sporting a tight-fitting black outfit that does nothing to hide the enticing ripple of his muscles, leaving only the tantalizing column of his neck exposed.

Madara’s mouth runs dry. Breathing becomes a chore. His brain is momentarily empties itself before exploding with a flurry of far too inappropriate thoughts about the man who’d almost killed his little brother.

(The little brother who’s dubbed himself Tobirama’s best friend now, but the fact is unimportant. Madara hates Tobirama’s guts and that is how things were, are and should be, and yet the universe insists on making him suffer through this madness.)

It’s unacceptable. Even more so, since this exact fucking scenario has been repeating itself almost daily now, and Madara cannot and will not stand for this a moment longer.

A couple of shunshins and lots of cursing later he kicks open the door to the Hokage’s office, chakra raging like an uncontrolled forest fire to match his anger.

“HASHIRAMA,” he roars, “HOLY FUCK!”

“Madara?" Hashirama says, unusually calm as he sits on his desk amid mountains of paperwork like the childish idiot that he is. "What’s wrong, are we under attack?”

Glaring at his confused-looking best friend, Madara lets out what’s been bothering him for the past two excruciating months.

“WHY THE FUCK IS YOUR BROTHER SO HOT?!”

Hashirama’s face stays mostly passive, and a raised eyebrow his only answer to Madara’s matter of life and death.

“Well?” Madara demands. “I can’t fucking stand this anymore! Can you tell the fucking bastard to stop wearing thatーthatーthe clothing, heー” Madara swallows heavily, feeling a damnable blush warming his cheeks. “The inappropriate clothing!” he spits, for lack of any other adjective other than sexy.

Another uncharacteristic gesture for Hashiramaーthe idiot fucking smirks. As if Madara’s suffering is entertaining for him to watch. And just before Madara launches into a rant about his offensive behavior, Hashirama disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving none other than Tobirama grinning at him from where he’s sprawledーin quite the indecent posture, Madara notices, and in the same fucking attireーon the Hokage’s desk.

Madara stammers as his mind goes blank again.

“I heard you loud and clear, Madara,” Tobirama says, tone laced with unbridled derision. “Unfortunately, Anija has a severe case of procrastination today, so I’m acting as interim Hokage until Mito finishes beating some sense into him. So,” he drawls, smirk growing wider as Madara starts hyperventilating, “you can discuss the matter of my... inappropriate hotness, as you put it, with me personally.”

“N-no,” Madara tries, voice barely audible as he chokes out incoherent sounds amid sparse words, “I-I, uh, a joke, that was aー”

“A joke?” Another raised eyebrow. “And here I believed you had a problem with my clothes. I can divest myself of them if you’d like.”

“YE-IーNO!” Madara screams just as his mind rages, YES.

Oh, gods. He is in pain. His life is in shambles. And the one escape attempt Madara tries for ends up with Tobirama grabbing his collar and keeping him in the suddenly too small space of the office.

“There’s no rush, Madara,” Tobirama chides, eyes glinting with amusement, “I just want to talk.”

Coming to terms with the disaster his life has crumbled into, Madara utters a heart-felt,

“Fuck.”

[samcrobae]

Kid sister

Jax x Reader where reader is Happy’s younger sister and moves to Charming to help with TM and falls for Jax.

Warnings: mentions of unprotected sex, language, maybe smut?

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

*flashback*

“God... yes... right there..” the feeling of his dick pounding in and out of you was unlike anything you have ever felt. Every thrust felt like your entire body was on fire. You had spent all night having sex with this blue eyed stranger. His hands tangled In your hair , your hands gripping your bed sheets as the orgasms you were given rocked your body. “Come on baby, cum for me sweetheart”. That boyish grin sent shivers down your spine.. the next morning you woke and he was already dressed, ready to head back home. Leave Las Vegas and head back to his small town in California. You couldn’t remember what the name of the town was. All you remember is that he had told you it was small, quaint, everybody knows everybody. You didn’t exchange names let alone phone numbers .. it was what you wanted. Sex and no strings.

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

You snapped back to reality at the sound of your phone ringing. Thrown off your memory by the voice at the other end “hey don’t be late tomorrow. Gemma will be waiting for you at 1.” “Yes, Happy. I’m aware you’ve told me this a thousand times.” “Don’t give me no shit just be there. Don’t make me look bad.” “Yeah you don’t need your little sister to do that. You do that all on your own. See you tomorrow Hap”. You threw your phone in your purse and got into your car ready to drive to charming.

Business was booming for TM and Gemma mentioned she needed some help with the books and paperwork and it was no longer a one person job. She needed someone with people skills. Happy mentioned to her you used to be a receptionist at a law firm and she asked if you’d want to come work for them. You had no ties in Vegas, just the Good time but figured a change of scenery wouldn’t hurt.

You pulled into the lot of Teller-Morrow and parked next to a black Cadillac. You glanced at your phone .. “12:50”. You let out a sigh as you headed to the office door. Before you could knock it swung open. “You must be (Y/F/N). Happys told me all about you, come on in sweetheart.” You entered the office and sat down, across from the woman. “Sorry” you manage to spit out, “but um I didn’t get your name”. “Gemma. So. Start tomorrow?” You raise a brow, surprised she didn’t give a formal interview. “Well don’t you wanna know anything? Ask me any questions?” “Nah, see you tomorrow. 10AM. Don’t be late”.

The rumble of their Harleys pulling into the lot made you turn to look out the window. “Perfect, boys are here. Come say hi.” Gemma said as she ushered you out onto the lot. The men, all clad in leather vests with giant reapers on the back stepped off their bikes and made their way towards you. The first one you saw was young, sporting a Mohawk and tattoos on his head. A tall one with wild curly black hair followed, then one with scars on his cheeks. The last one to approach made you freeze in place. It was him. The blue eyed god who rocked your world just a few weeks before, his eyes about to bulge out of his face. swallowing hard you shift your gaze back to Gemma. “Boys this is Y/F/N. She’s gonna be helping out around here. Be good to her.” Gemma turned to walk back inside. “Hey doll, Tig. But you can call me Daddy.” He held his hand out and you shook it. “Think I’ll stick with Tig”. “Aye lass excuse him he don’t get out much. I’m Chibs, that’s Juicey. This here is Jackie Boy”. He put his arm around the blonde who was wide eyed as ever.

“Well it was very nice to meet you all but I gotta head out. I have some unpacking to do. I’ll be around tomorrow.” You turn to head back to your car when you feel a firm grasp on your arm, turning you around to face him. “Y/F/N, what the hell are you doing here? Where are you staying?” Jax asked, sounding frustrated. You looked into his piercing blue eyes, “not far. Bout 15 minutes up.” He looked at you for what felt like an eternity.. “gimme your address, I’ll come by. We should talk.” “Jackson, look it’s fine. I.. uh.. alright. Gimme your phone”. You punched your address into a note and hand the phone back. “Come by around 7.”

You had just taken a shower when you heard his Harley pull into the driveway. You opened the door and he greeted you with that smile. “Hey, come in.” You shut the door and before you could get another word out, you were pushed against the wall, face to face wit the man you hadnt stopped thinking about since he left you that morning just a few weeks before. Your lips practically touching he stared at you. A dark gleam in his eye. You wanted to get words out- protest what was happening. But the mix of mint and cigarettes lingering on his breath and his cologne was an intoxicating scent. “Do you want me darlin’? His eyes gazing deeply into yours searching for the answer he was hoping to have for him. You nod your head letting him know you were okay with whatever was about to happen. “Good”, he replied.

He kissed you deeply, an animalistic urge behind his kisses. You moan into them as he pulls your hair and gently pulls your head back, exposing your neck to meet his lips. He sucks roughly at your skin, bruises already forming. In one swift motion he tugs your T-shirt over your head , admiring the black lace bra you had on underneath. His fingertips running up and down your sides, your breathing becoming heavy as he kisses his way down your neck, to your collarbone, to the tops of your breasts as he slides your bra straps down your shoulders. He sucks and bites at your shoulders and you reach back to unclasp your bra, letting the fabric fall to the floor . You reach for his vest, pushing the clothing off his shoulders, he pulls back, taking it off and setting it on the couch.

He pulls you to him, standing between his knees, he unbuttons your shorts and lets them fall to the floor, planting kisses on your lower stomach, just above your panty line. You step out of your shorts, straddling him on your couch, your grind your hips into him, feeling his erection through his pants. “Jackson...I want you.” He fumbles beneath you for his belt and buttons, sliding his pants and boxers down, he runs his cock against your slick folds. “Yesss I need you inside of me.” “Whatever you want darlin. Reach into my pocket there and hand me a rubber first”. “No time, I need you now” you slide yourself on to him, letting out a sigh at how good he feels inside you. His lips returning to your neck and chest, he sucks, bites and licks at all exposed skin. Desperate to leave his mark. Hands grabbing at your ass as he guides you up and down his rock hard length. Your moans filling the air as you ride out your highs.

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

The next morning you get ready for work , unable to hide the many hickies that cover your neck and chest. Smiling to yourself you get in your car And head in. Pulling into the spot Gemma designated just for you, you check your makeup once more and step out of the car. Passing the guys up on your way into the office. “Morning boys.” Just then you see your brother sitting at the picnic tables . “Hap!” You fun to greet your brother with the biggest hug. “I’m so glad you’re here, I missed you yesterday. Couldn’t stay long.” Jax watches the interaction. Unsure as to how you know the Tacoma Killer, and how he’s known Happy for years and not once did he see the man smile til today. “Sis what the fuck happened to your neck?! Can’t come to work looking like that!” “Yeah yeah save it. I gotta clock in”.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted. “You fuck her Jackie Boy?” He snapped his head to the side at the scot. “What the hell you talkin about Chibs?” “Aye, I see how you looked at her yesterday. Then today she comes in here covered in hickies, the way you’re staring at the gash watching her talk to Happy.” Jackson plays with the cigarette in between his teeth before taking a long drag. “It’s different brother. She’s different. I can’t explain it. But there’s something about her.” Just then Tig walks over. “You guys won’t believe the shit I just found out..” he stares looking dumb founded. Chibs shifted his gaze to Tig “out with it idiot!” “Y/F/N man.. she’s Hap’s kid sister.”

Jaxs breath caught, choking on the cloud of smoke he just inhaled. “Jackie boy... easy. “ Chibs said patting him on the back. Tig looked over at Jax. “Hey man, you alright?” Chibs let out a cackle, “Jackie Boys a dead man!”

——————-